CHAPTER III

LAYING OUT A GARDEN AND BORDERS AROUND THE HOUSE

Perplexities assail a would-be gardener on every side, from the day it

is decided to start a garden. The most attractive books on the subject

are English; and yet, beyond the suggestions for planting, and the

designs given in the illustrations, not much help is to be derived in

this latitude from following their directions. In England the climate,

which is without great extremes of heat and cold, and the frequent

rains, with the soft moist atmosphere, not only enable the English

gardener to accomplish what would be impossible for us, but permit him

to grow certain flowers out of doors that here must be housed in the

winter. Daffodils and Narcissi bloom in England, near the coast, at

the end of February and early in March,--Lilies-of-the-Valley in March.

Many Roses live out of doors that would perish here during our winters.

Gardening operations are begun there much earlier than in this part, at

least, of the United States, and many of the methods for culture differ

from those employed here. In England there is excess of moisture;

therefore, care in securing good drainage is essential, while here,

except in low places near streams, special provision for drainage is

rarely necessary. It is more important to have a deep, rich preparation

of the soil, so that plants may not be dried out. A serious part of

the gardener's work during the average summer consists in judicious

watering of the garden.

One writer will say that this or that plant should have sun, another

that it does best in the shade. One advocates a rich soil, another

a light sandy soil; so that after all, in gardening, as in all else

in life, experience is the best teacher, either your own or that of

others who have already been successful under similar conditions.

A garden is almost sure to be gradually increased in size, and its

capacity limited only by the grounds of the owner and his pocket-book.

The possibilities and capabilities of a couple of acres are great, and

will give the owner unlimited pleasure and occupation.

Individuality is one of the most marked of American characteristics;

hence, in making a place, whether it is big or little, the tastes and

individuality of the owner will generally direct his efforts, and no

hard and fast rules can be given.

In starting a garden, the first question, of course, is where to plant.

If you are a beginner in the art, and the place is new and large, go to

a good landscape gardener and let him give advice and make you a plan.

But don't follow it; at least not at once, nor all at one time. Live

there for a while, until you yourself begin to feel what you want, and

where you want it. See all the gardens and places you can, and then,

when you know what you want, or think you do, start in.

The relation of house to grounds must always be borne in mind, and

simplicity in grounds should correspond with that of the house. A craze

for Italian gardens is seizing upon people generally, regardless of the

architecture of their houses. To my mind, an Italian garden, with its

balustrades, terraces, fountains and statues, is as inappropriate for

surrounding a colonial or an ordinary country house as would be a Louis

XV drawing-room in a farm-house.

[Illustration: _Rhododendron maximum_ and Ferns along north side of

house, with _Ampelopsis Veitchii_

July fourth]

What is beautiful in one place becomes incongruous and ridiculous in

another. Not long ago, a woman making an afternoon visit asked me to

show her the gardens. Daintily balancing herself upon slippers with

the highest possible heels, clad in a costume appropriate only for a

fête at Newport, she strolled about. She thought it all "quite lovely"

and "really, very nice," but, at least ten times, while making the

tour, wondered "Why in the world don't you have an Italian garden?"

No explanation of the lack of taste that such a garden would indicate

in connection with the house, had any effect. The simple, formal

gardens of a hundred years ago, with Box-edged paths, borders and

regular Box-edged beds, are always beautiful, never become tiresome,

and have the additional merit of being appropriate either to the fine

country-place or the simple cottage.

[Illustration: Plan for a Small Plot]

For a small plot of ground, like the one before mentioned, the plan

of which is on page 24, the matter is simple, because of the natural

limitations. I love to see a house bedded, as it were, in flowers.

This is particularly suitable for the usual American country house,

colonial in style, or low and rambling. Make a bed perhaps four feet

wide along three sides of the house,--south, east and west. Close

against the house plant the vines. Every one has an individual taste

in vines,--more so, perhaps, than in any other ornamental growth. If

the house be of stone, and the climate not too severe, nothing is

more beautiful than the English Ivy. It flourishes as far north as

Princeton, New Jersey. I have never grown it, fearing it would be

winter-killed.

_Ampelopsis Veitchii_, sometimes called Boston Ivy, grows rapidly,

clinging closely to the wall and turning a dark red in the autumn, and

is most satisfactory.

The Virginia Creeper, and the Trumpet Creeper, with its scarlet

flowers, are both beautiful, perfectly hardy, and of rapid growth. All

of these vines cling to stone and wood, and, beyond a little help for

the first two or three feet, need not be fastened to the house. Care

must be taken to prevent the vines growing too thickly to admit sun and

air to the house.

If the house be of wood, the question of repainting must be

considered. Both the White and the Purple Wistaria, which can be

twined about heavy wire and fastened at the eaves, Rambler Roses and

Honeysuckles may be grown. They can be laid down, to permit painting.

But, if the house be of wood and well covered with vines, put off the

evil day of painting until it can be deferred no longer, and then have

it done early in November. Never, never permit it to be done in the

spring, or before November, unless you would take the risk of killing

the vines or of losing at least a season's growth. The house surrounded

by my gardens is colonial, something over a hundred and fifty years

old, stern and very simple. Tall locusts, towering above the roof, and

vines that cover it from ground to eaves, have taken away its otherwise

puritanical and somewhat uncompromising aspect. These vines are mostly

the ordinary Virginia Creeper, which I had dug from the woods and

planted when the first fat baby was two months old. Now their main

trunks are, in places, as large as my arm. They have never been laid

down. Whenever the house has been repainted, I have been constantly

by, and admonished the men to gently lift the heavy branches while

painting under them, and not to paint the light tendrils. When the

master-painter has remonstrated, that it was not a "good job" and took

three times as long as if the vines were laid down, my reply has been,

that "three times" was nothing in comparison with the years it had

taken to grow them, and that stunting or killing the vines could never

be a "good job."

[Illustration: Arch over rose-walk, covered with Golden Honeysuckle and

_Clematis paniculata_. September fifteenth]

Among the creepers are the Crimson Rambler Rose and the Honeysuckle. In

three years the Roses have grown above the second-story windows.

_Clematis paniculata_, with its delicate foliage and mass of starry

bloom in early autumn, is particularly good to plant by veranda posts

in connection with other vines. It grows luxuriantly and is absolutely

hardy. The large white-flowered Henryi and purple-flowered Jackmani

Clematis, though of slow growth, should always have a place, either

about a veranda, a summer-house or a trellis, for the sake of their

beautiful flowers.

While waiting for the hardy vines to make their first year's growth,

the seeds of the Japanese Morning-Glory, the Japanese Moonflower and

_Coboea scandens_ may be planted. All of these will grow at least ten

feet in a summer, and cover the bare places. But I would not advise

sowing them among the hardy vines, except the first summer. In their

luxuriance they may suffocate the Roses and Clematis. The seeds of the

Moonflower must be soaked in hot water, and left over night, before

sowing. So much for the vines about a house.

In front of the vines, and on the south side in the same bed, plant

masses of Hollyhocks, from eight to twelve in a bunch, and Rudbeckia in

bunches of not more than five, as they grow so large. Hollyhocks and

Rudbeckias plant two feet apart; they will grow to a solid mass. In

front of these, again, put a clump of Phloxes, seven in a bunch, and

Larkspur, _Delphinium formosum_ being the best. On either side of the

Delphinium have clumps of about a dozen _Lilium candidum_, which bloom

at the same time. Edge the border with Sweet Williams, three kinds

only,--white, pink and dark scarlet.

I should not advise making all the borders around a house alike. The

easterly one will be most lovely if planted with tall ferns or brakes,

taken from near some stream in early April, before they begin to grow.

These will become about four feet high if you get good roots and keep

them wet. Plant in among them everywhere Auratum Lilies, and you will

have a border that will fill your heart with joy. On the north side

of the house it is not possible to have much success with vines, as

they need the sun. They will grow, but not with great luxuriance. Here

plant two rows of the common _Rhododendron maximum_, which grows in our

woods. I crave pardon for calling it "common," since none that grows is

more beautiful.

In front of these plant ferns of all kinds from the woods, and edge the

border with Columbines. If these Rhododendrons do not grow in your

vicinity, they can be ordered from a florist. In the hills, about five

miles from us, acres of them grow wild, and twice a year I send my men

with wagons to dig them up. They stand transplanting perfectly if care

is taken to get all the roots, which is not difficult, as they do not

grow deep. Keep them quite wet for a week after planting, and never

let them get very dry. A good plan is to mulch them in early June to

the depth of six inches or more with the clippings of the lawn grass,

or with old manure. When once well rooted, the Rhododendrons will last

a lifetime. They seem to bear transplanting at any season. Some think

they do best if taken when in full bloom. I have always done this in

April or late October, and, of a wagon-load transplanted last October,

all have lived. Many of these were like trees, quite eight feet tall

and too large to be satisfactory about the house, so they were set

among the evergreens in a shrubbery.

[Illustration: _Rhododendron maximum_ under a Cherry tree

July fourth]

In cold localities, where the thermometer in winter falls below zero,

Rhododendrons should be mulched with stable litter or leaves to the

depth of one foot, after the ground has frozen. They should also have

some protection from the winter sun, which can be easily given them by

setting evergreen boughs of any kind into the ground here and there

among them. Rhododendrons are as likely to be killed by alternate

freezing and thawing of the ground in winter as by summer drought.

The lovely _Azalea mollis_, and many beautiful varieties of imported

Rhododendrons, are usually described as "hardy," but I cannot recommend

them to those who live where the winters are severe. In such places

their growth is very slow, and many perish.

Maidenhair, the most beautiful of the hardy ferns, is to be found in

quantities in many of our woods, particularly those covering hillsides.

Their favorite spot is along the edges of mountain brooks. I know

such a hillside, where Maidenhair Ferns are superb. But nothing

would induce me to venture there again, since I have been told it was

infested with rattlesnakes, and that the woodchoppers kill a number of

them every year. This fact, too, gives me scruples about sending the

men to dig them up, although it is an awful temptation.

All ferns should be transplanted late in the autumn, or very early

in the spring before the fronds are started, as they are very easily

broken. This is particularly the case with ferns from wet places. When

planted on the east or north side of a house, the tall ones at the

back, and Maidenhair and other low varieties in front, they make a

beautiful bank of cool green. They must be kept moist, however, to be

successful, and in dry weather require a daily soaking.

[Illustration: Vase of Delphinium (Perennial Larkspur)

June twenty-first]

The Cardinal Flower, whose natural haunt is along the banks of streams,

and whose spikes are of the most beautiful red, can also be safely

transplanted, and will bloom in deep, rich soil equally well in shade

or sun and will be very effective among the Ferns. About the end of

November, after cutting the dead stalks, cover each plant with a piece

of sod, laid grass-side down. Remove this the first of April, and the

little sprouts will soon appear above the ground. Cardinal Flowers

bloom for nearly a month--during the last two weeks of August and first

two weeks of September.

HOW TO PLANT A SMALL PLOT

A woman's hardy garden · 第 3 / 16 章