MRS. TOMPKINS COACHES NORMA.
The foregoing letter was sealed and mailed that forenoon when Farmer
Ames drove past on his way to the general store. But there may be some
readers who have not met Natalie and her friends at Green Hill Farm,
and so, are not aware that Natalie left New York City with Mrs. James,
her valuable companion and friend, and Rachel, the old southern cook
who had been with the Averills for many years, to live on a farm in
Westchester County that had been left the girl by her mother.
The old Colonial house on the farm was large and comfortable, so
Natalie’s four school chums had agreed to spend the summer there, and
board with Mrs. James. This income would help pay current expenses of
housekeeping, and the girls could enjoy the freedom of country life
and be happy in each other’s company.
All the amusing incidents that occurred to Natalie when she launched
her plan and started a vegetable garden to help defray expenses, and
the still more ludicrous experiences Janet had after she began her
stock farm, are told in the two preceding volumes of this country life
series, namely: “Natalie: A Garden Scout,” and “Janet: A Stock-Farm
Scout.”
The same day that Norma’s letter went to her parents, a letter written
by Frances Lowden was also mailed at Four Corners. In Frances’s letter
she begged her parents to leave the automobile at the farm when they
went to Colorado for the summer months. The reason for wanting the car
at Green Hill was explained in the other volumes; that Frances
proposed running a jitney as her business venture that summer, and
thus put Amity Ketchum out of his profession for the time being.
How this venture succeeded and how Frances added to this undertaking
the other branches of work that won her the badges in scoutdom, is
told in full in her book which follows this one.
The preceding evening, while four of the girls called on Nancy Sherman
and Hester Tompkins to make an appointment for the meeting of the two
scout patrols, Mrs. James took Norma and introduced her to Mrs.
Tompkins, the flower lover.
“I trust we are not disturbing you, Mrs. Tompkins, but I wanted to
introduce Norma to you, as I think you two will be very close friends
after you get acquainted with each other’s ideals,” said Mrs. James.
“I’m glad you came in, as Hester just went out to visit Nancy Sherman
for a little time this evening, and I am quite alone. I was just on
the point of going out to my garden and watch the bud on a
night-bloomer. I hope it opens tonight.”
“Oh, then, let us go with you, as Norma is going to start the flower
gardens at the farm, and will be very grateful to you for any hints or
helps you can give her,” explained Mrs. James.
“I’m glad to find someone who is interested in my hobby,” was Mrs.
Tompkins’ reply, as she smiled at Norma. “Come right out and let me
introduce you to my favorites in the flower beds.”
Norma and Mrs. James followed their hostess out to her large gardens,
and Mrs. Tompkins began describing various plants as they passed them.
“You’ll find that most of my flowers in the beds nearest the house are
all of the old-fashioned variety, because they give out such sweet
perfume. I love to sit by my back window and smell their refreshing
odors. It is payment in full for all the time I give to their food and
growth.”
The two visitors walked slowly along the neat footpath and stopped
frequently to stoop and smell of a bright blossom, or admire a
wonderful color of a flower.
“I try to use good judgment in the arrangement of my plants, too, as
well as to group the colors so they will blend instead of fight with
each other. Sometimes, I have great difficulty in this arrangement, as
a flower will open and surprise me with an entirely different color or
shade than I expected. Quite often, the bees, or birds, will carry a
germ from one flower to another when they visit it to sip the nectar,
and this fertilization of the seed, after the flower dies, is made
manifest in a totally different color in the next production of the
plant.”
“Oh, how interesting! I never knew such things happened in a flower
garden,” exclaimed Norma.
Mrs. Tompkins laughed at the girl’s very evident interest. “You will
find stranger and more absorbing things happening in a flower garden,
than this very common occurrence. Because you see, it really depends
upon the breezes, the bees, or the birds—sometimes, on a creeping
insect or caterpillar—to carry pollen and the fertilizing germs from
one flower to another. And Nature seldom errs in her judgments,
either.”
“Mrs. Tompkins,” now asked Mrs. James, “do you know anything of the
quality of the soil in the flower beds at Green Hill?”
“I’m afraid I am not well enough acquainted with it to render any
verdict on it now. But I could visit you and examine it, so as to give
you an intelligent answer on what flowers it will raise. The last
tenant of the farm did not waste much time, or money, on the floral
side of the grounds. His hobby was vegetable growing and the barn
yard, and his wife cared little for gardening, so the beds were
generally neglected.
“Fortunately, there is no danger of spoiling soil when it is not
planted, and it is a very easy matter to enrich it so that any plant
will thrive in it. The only impossible soil is what is known as ‘hard
pan,’ but we find little of that around here.”
“I forked over some of the dirt in one of the beds and found it was
rather dry and lacking in richness. Now this may be due to a sandy
soil, or it may mean the soil is impoverished and needs more
vitalizing properties before we plant the flowers,” said Mrs. James.
“If the ground was well manured early this spring or if you use good
barn yard manure this fall, the beds will show a fine condition by
next spring. I should use about a half-barrel full of manure to a
square yard of the soil. But that will not do you any good for
immediate planting. I would have to see the soil before I prescribe
now for it,” explained Mrs. Tompkins.
“If Janet adds to her poultry business and buys pigeons and other
feathered fowl very soon, we can use that manure for the beds. I’ve
heard that poultry manure is best for flowers,” ventured Mrs. James.
“I’ll tell you what I do,” returned Mrs. Tompkins. “I believe poultry
manure is one of the best to be had for any purpose with plants, as it
is rich in nitrogen, easily stored and handled, and does not contain
the grain or weed seeds that stall manure has and always reproduces
when used in the garden. I remove any droppings from the perches and
the floor of the house where the fowl roost; then I sweep the floors
of all the coops, and use a fine tooth rake to clean out the poultry
yards. These I throw in the box where that particular compost is kept.
If I have any waste vegetable matter from the gardens or the kitchen
garbage, I mix that with the poultry manure and leave it to decay
thoroughly.
“I have learned that such a compost heap, far enough from the house to
prevent any disagreeable odors from reaching us, will attract the
chickens when they are at large, each day, to exercise. They will
scratch in the heap and mix it better than I can. You do not need
nearly as much poultry manure as you would of stall manure.”
“What kind of manure can we use now that will not burn the plants
Norma may wish to raise?” asked Mrs. James.
“As I said before, I had better test the soil before I commit myself
to reply. If the soil is damp, she’d better use some wood ashes from
the fire-places, to furnish the potash and improve the condition of
the soil. Bone dust makes a good fertilizer that can be used at most
times, but it does not provide any humus to the ground. I think I
should use a fine bone dust for present needs, but use a coarse powder
for spring or fall enriching.”
Norma now interrupted this conversation by exclaiming: “Oh, what a
beautiful bed of gladiolis! In New York we would have to pay a dollar
for six of those stalks.”
“I’m very fond of my gladiolis, and so are my bees and birds,
especially the humming-birds. They hover in and out of the blossoms as
long as there is one to hold honey or nectar. My July flowering
gladiolis are planted in early spring and produce magnificent spikes
of flowers right through to frost time. I plant many of the bulb in
late autumn and protect them from the frost with straw sweepings from
the stable.”
One corner of the garden was a mass of gorgeous color produced by
great peonies. Mrs. James pointed at them and remarked about their
size and the sweetness which she could smell as far away as she was.
“I am justly proud of them,” smiled Mrs. Tompkins. “I was careful to
plant them where they would be protected from the east wind. They love
a deep fertile soil and will thrive well in a sunny sheltered garden.
You can grow them from seed, but you will wait a long time before
enjoying the flowers. If you transplant a well-rooted plant, you will
have flowers the following season.”
“I don’t suppose we can plant any roots so late as this?” queried
Norma, anxiously.
“No, it would merely kill the plant and the root would dry up in the
ground.”
The iris, the phloxes, the pinks, lavender, portulacae and many other
old-fashioned flowers were discussed, and for each one, Mrs. Tompkins
had a valuable lesson to give Norma. As they went along the paths,
Norma carrying a flat-bottomed basket, the hostess would dig up a
small plant which had sprung up from a seed beside the older plant,
and place it carefully in the basket. Thus by the time the three had
covered the length of the paths in this section of the garden, Norma
had almost a full basket of young slips and roots to take home for her
own gardens. Then they walked over to a garden well enclosed with
hedges, both low and high.
It brought forth a simultaneous exclamation of admiration, as Mrs.
James and Norma saw that this large garden contained all kinds of
roses, from the single American Beauty standing upright and queenly,
to the tiny bush prolific with pink blooms. The hedges, too, were well
worth admiring and seeing.
On the side nearest the other flower-beds, the low hedge was comprised
of hyssop, rosemary and lavender. On either side were hedges of roses,
thickly grown and kept well-trimmed, but back of the riot of color and
perfume of the rose garden proper, stood dark green privet and back of
that a row of dwarf cedars. This effectually screened the barns, but
what really covered the grey, unpainted buildings were the luxuriant
vines and creepers which were trained up over the roof, and hung in
festoons from gables and dormer windows set in the roof.
Standing, as the visitors now did, beside the low hedge of flowers,
and gazing across the roses to the taller hedge of cedar and then up
at the tangle of green vines, the effect was lovely. And so thought
the woman who had accomplished this effect.
After Norma had inhaled the perfume and sighed in an ecstasy of
pleasure at the beautiful roses glowing before her, Mrs. Tompkins
retraced her steps toward the house, as the twilight was falling and
the dew began to gather on the foliage of the plants.
Norma carried the basket as if it were filled with frail creations of
mist, but she asked questions, nevertheless.
“Why do you have table oilcloth spread out over the basket, Mrs.
Tompkins?”
“To keep the soil from drying and to keep the roots and plants moist
after they are placed in the basket. The oilcloth keeps the air from
circulating about the roots and soil.”
“Then why have such a shallow basket. Would not a deep one keep away
the air?”
“If we used a deep basket you would have to reach down into it and,
perhaps, break a delicate stem, or catch your sleeve, or leaves of
other plants, while you are removing a plant or root. By having such a
shallow basket, one is not tempted to place other plants with their
soil, on top of those in the bottom, as might be the case if one used
a deep basket.”
As the three reached the back piazza which was completely hidden under
vines, Norma remarked aloud: “It’s a wonder Mrs. Tompkins never went
into the florist business, instead of keeping all these wonderful
flowers and her valuable knowledge about them, to herself.”
Mrs. Tompkins smiled. “I’ll tell you something that I seldom speak of.
I have had many tempting offers of large salaries and easy hours, to
take charge of private greenhouses owned by millionaires who like to
raise prize flowers; and also from commercial florists to superintend
their greenhouses, because I have won quite a reputation for myself
through my successful floriculture. But I stayed at home to work with
my own garden and with my old-fashioned tools and ways.”
“Oh, Mrs. Tompkins! Didn’t you want fame and riches?” cried Norma,
scarcely able to understand why one should refuse such wonderful
gifts.
“Well, maybe I am queer, but I love flowers from a different
standpoint than these growers of fancy and freakish plants,” explained
Mrs. Tompkins. “It would hurt me to see the boss cutting all my young
and glorious buds and blossoms to sell to a city market. I would see,
in my mind’s eye, all my pets being sold to cold individuals for
decorating their homes for parties, or to pin at their waist, without
a thought for the sweet life of the flowers. And naturally, I would
scold the owner of the greenhouse for such wholesale destruction. Now
put me in charge of a rich man’s greenhouses, and tell me to produce a
giant rose or chrysanthemum with which to win a prize and a newspaper
comment! I couldn’t do it. I love all flowers so that I would fight to
protect them. In my own home garden, I am ruler and no one tells me to
strive for a prize, or sell my blossoms for money. And my flowers know
I love them, so they really race with each other to see which one can
offer me the finest blossoms.”
Norma laughed delightedly at this explanation, and Mrs. James nodded
her head understandingly, as she murmured: “That is the way I could
love the flowers if I allowed myself to specialize with them. And
because I think Norma is much the same, I wanted her to try the flower
gardening and then come and meet you.”
“Yes, I am that way!” declared Norma. “The other girls always laughed
at me when I refused to pin flowers at my girdle, because I said they
would droop and die so quickly. That’s why they dubbed me ‘Sentimental
Norma.’ But it wasn’t that I hated to wear them, but that I couldn’t
bear the thought of how much longer the flowers would have lived and
shed their fragrance abroad, had they been able to remain on the
plant. Then the bees and birds and all Nature would have benefited
more than by cutting the flower to please one person.”
Mrs. Tompkins now learned from Norma’s guileless remark how idealistic
and poetical the girl really was. She stepped forward and placed one
hand on the tangled waves of hair and said: “I see we are going to be
very good friends, Norma.”
Norma smiled up at the plain-faced woman and Mrs. James showed her
satisfaction at the way Norma was accepted by their hostess. The other
girls who had gone to Nancy Sherman’s had not yet returned to the
Tompkins house, so the three flower lovers sat on the narrow front
piazza and waited for them.
Twilight had given way to grey evening, and the frogs began croaking,
and the little lizards chirping over in the meadow across the road as
the three friends sat and talked of various things pertaining to
floriculture.
“If you find the soil in any section of your garden of a clay nature,
you will need to lighten it. Sand generally needs rich farm yard
manure to strengthen it. This must be dug under and well mixed for
about two feet in depth. As I said a while back, it is too late in the
season to make use of farm yard composts of any kind, unless you use
it in the water with which you soak the plants after sundown, at
night. I keep a hogshead of water in a back corner of my garden, in
which I soak manure from the barn yard and stalls. I add a small
quantity of the compost to this water every time I add water in any
quantity. This keeps it always at about the same degree of
nourishment.”
“We have a few lily-of-the-valley plants along the side of the house
where the driveway comes in. But they do not seem to be thriving,”
said Mrs. James. “Can you tell me what to give them?”
“That’s because they are in the wrong location; now they are facing
the southern sun and are exposed to the rays as well as to all the air
that reaches the piazza. You must dig them up this fall, Mrs. James,
and place them in a shady northeast bed. Plant them on that northeast
side of the house where the stone wall sticks out like a buttress. I
never knew why that freak of an out-thrust was there. But _now_ I know
why it is there—to protect and shade your lily-of-the-valley plants.”
Norma and Mrs. James smiled at this interpretation, and Mrs. Tompkins
continued: “It would be a pity if Norma had to go back to the city
before she had had time to plant her bulbs for next year’s flowers.
The daffodils, tulips, crocuses, hyacinths and other bulbs, which need
fall or early winter planting, and the hardy vines and shrubs which
beautify a place so wonderfully, have to be planted in the fall when
the sap is all out of the wood.”
“Mrs. Tompkins, do you think I could ever grow such lovely flowers at
Green Hill, as you have back there in your gardens?” asked Norma,
yearningly.
“Why not? Perhaps better ones; for you have soil, right exposures and
finer surroundings than I ever had here at Four Corners. You must
understand that plants are living things and they really appreciate
their environment as much as we do. But the most important factor with
them is the warmth of creative love—not the mortal selfish kind, but
the divine eternal unselfish love. That is why you read of a scraggy
little plant half-dead in the pot, that began to revive and flourish
when cared for by a bed-ridden child whose days were passed in a
tenement cellar. That plant needed not the sunshine and air of nature,
as much as the beams of love and devotion and sacrifice from a human
soul.”
“When you visit us at Green Hill, Mrs. Tompkins, I am going to show
you an eye-sore that spreads all the way from the barn yard end of the
farm to the road that runs past the northeast corner of the property.
Perhaps you can suggest a remedy for that disgrace,” said Mrs. James
earnestly.
“There is no ill in Nature. It is what man makes of his opportunity. I
know the spot you speak of, and I often wished I had the right to go
in there and work my will in that depression.”
“Then it is yours to do as you will with it, only let Norma and me act
as your aides in doing it,” laughed Mrs. James.
“If we three consolidated and began alterations on the grounds of
Green Hill, few people would recognize the place in a year’s time,”
rejoined the hostess, smilingly.
“We’ll do it!” declared Norma eagerly.
“When you remember the rolling, artistic natural grades of the farm,
and the sheltered, as well as exposed areas for planting, is it not a
wonder the former tenant could not see the beauty in flower-growing?”
said Mrs. James musingly.
“Will you come over the first thing tomorrow morning?” asked Norma
anxiously.
The ladies laughed and Mrs. Tompkins replied: “I’ll try to drive over
when Farmer Ames goes back home.”
The other girls now joined the three people on the piazza and Hester
said: “We’re all going to join the scout patrol, Mother, and there
will be lots of fun after this, all summer through.”