JANUARY
Beauty of woodland in winter -- The nut-walk -- Thinning the overgrowth
-- A nut nursery -- _Iris stylosa_ -- Its culture -- Its home in Algeria
-- Discovery of the white variety -- Flowers and branches for indoor
decoration.
A hard frost is upon us. The thermometer registered eighteen degrees
last night, and though there was only one frosty night next before it,
the ground is hard frozen. Till now a press of other work has stood in
the way of preparing protecting stuff for tender shrubs, but now I go up
into the copse with a man and chopping tools to cut out some of the
Scotch fir that are beginning to crowd each other.
How endlessly beautiful is woodland in winter! To-day there is a thin
mist; just enough to make a background of tender blue mystery three
hundred yards away, and to show any defect in the grouping of near
trees. No day could be better for deciding which trees are to come down;
there is not too much at a time within sight; just one good picture-full
and no more. On a clear day the eye and mind are distracted by seeing
away into too many planes, and it is much more difficult to decide what
is desirable in the way of broad treatment of nearer objects.
The ground has a warm carpet of pale rusty fern; tree-stem and branch
and twig show tender colour-harmonies of grey bark and silver-grey
lichen, only varied by the warm feathery masses of birch spray. Now the
splendid richness of the common holly is more than ever impressive, with
its solid masses of full, deep colour, and its wholesome look of perfect
health and vigour. Sombrely cheerful, if one may use such a mixture of
terms; sombre by reason of the extreme depth of tone, and yet cheerful
from the look of glad life, and from the assurance of warm shelter and
protecting comfort to bird and beast and neighbouring vegetation. The
picture is made complete by the slender shafts of the silver-barked
birches, with their half-weeping heads of delicate, warm-coloured spray.
Has any tree so graceful a way of throwing up its stems as the birch?
They seem to leap and spring into the air, often leaning and curving
upward from the very root, sometimes in forms that would be almost
grotesque were it not for the never-failing rightness of free-swinging
poise and perfect balance. The tints of the stem give a precious lesson
in colour. The white of the bark is here silvery-white and there
milk-white, and sometimes shows the faintest tinge of rosy flush. Where
the bark has not yet peeled, the stem is clouded and banded with
delicate grey, and with the silver-green of lichen. For about two feet
upward from the ground, in the case of young trees of about seven to
nine inches diameter, the bark is dark in colour, and lies in thick and
extremely rugged upright ridges, contrasting strongly with the smooth
white skin above. Where the two join, the smooth bark is parted in
upright slashes, through which the dark, rough bark seems to swell up,
reminding one forcibly of some of the old fifteenth-century German
costumes, where a dark velvet is arranged to rise in crumpled folds
through slashings in white satin. In the stems of older birches the
rough bark rises much higher up the trunk and becomes clothed with
delicate grey-green lichen.
The nut-walk was planted twelve years ago. There are two rows each side,
one row four feet behind the other, and the nuts are ten feet apart in
the rows. They are planted zigzag, those in the back rows showing
between the front ones. As the two inner rows are thirteen feet apart
measuring across the path, it leaves a shady border on each side, with
deeper bays between the nearer trees. Lent Hellebores fill one border
from end to end; the other is planted with the Corsican and the native
kinds, so that throughout February and March there is a complete bit of
garden of one kind of plant in full beauty of flower and foliage.
The nut-trees have grown into such thick clumps that now there must be a
vigorous thinning. Each stool has from eight to twelve main stems, the
largest of them nearly two inches thick. Some shoot almost upright,
but two or three in each stool spread outward, with quite a different
habit of growth, branching about in an angular fashion. These are the
oldest and thickest. There are also a number of straight suckers one and
two years old. Now when I look at some fine old nut alley, with the tops
arching and meeting overhead, as I hope mine will do in a few years, I
see that the trees have only a few stems, usually from three to five at
the most, and I judge that now is the time to thin mine to about the
right number, so that the strength and growing power may be thrown into
these, and not allowed to dilute and waste itself in growing extra
faggoting. The first to be cut away are the old crooked stems. They grow
nearly horizontally and are all elbows, and often so tightly locked into
the straighter rods that they have to be chopped to pieces before they
can be pulled out. When these are gone it is easier to get at the other
stems, though they are often so close together at the base that it is
difficult to chop or saw them out without hurting the bark of the ones
to be left. All the young suckers are cut away. They are of straight,
clean growth, and we prize them as the best possible sticks for
Chrysanthemums and potted Lilies.
After this bold thinning, instead of dense thickety bushes we have a few
strong, well-branched rods to each stool. At first the nut-walk looks
wofully naked, and for the time its pictorial value is certainly
lessened; but it has to be done, and when summer side-twigs have grown
and leafed, it will be fairly well clothed, and meanwhile the Hellebores
will be the better for the thinner shade.
The nut-catkins are already an inch long, but are tightly closed, and
there is no sign as yet of the bright crimson little sea-anemones that
will appear next month and will duly grow into nut-bearing twigs. Round
the edges of the base of the stools are here and there little branching
suckers. These are the ones to look out for, to pull off and grow into
young trees. A firm grasp and a sharp tug brings them up with a fine
supply of good fibrous root. After two years in the nursery they are
just right to plant out.
The trees in the nut-walk were grown in this way fourteen years ago,
from small suckers pulled off plants that came originally from the
interesting cob-nut nursery at Calcot, near Reading.
I shall never forget a visit to that nursery some six-and-twenty years
ago. It was walled all round, and a deep-sounding bell had to be rung
many times before any one came to open the gate; but at last it was
opened by a fine, strongly-built, sunburnt woman of the type of the good
working farmer's wife, that I remember as a child. She was the
forewoman, who worked the nursery with surprisingly few hands--only
three men, if I remember rightly--but she looked as if she could do the
work of "all two men" herself. One of the specialties of the place was a
fine breed of mastiffs; another was an old Black Hamburg vine, that
rambled and clambered in and out of some very old greenhouses, and was
wonderfully productive. There were alleys of nuts in all directions, and
large spreading patches of palest yellow Daffodils--the double
_Narcissus cernuus_, now so scarce and difficult to grow. Had I then
known how precious a thing was there in fair abundance, I should not
have been contented with the modest dozen that I asked for. It was a
most pleasant garden to wander in, especially with the old Mr. Webb who
presently appeared. He was dressed in black clothes of an old-looking
cut--a Quaker, I believe. Never shall I forget an apple-tart he invited
me to try as a proof of the merit of the "Wellington" apple. It was not
only good, but beautiful; the cooked apple looking rosy and transparent,
and most inviting. He told me he was an ardent preacher of total
abstinence, and took me to a grassy, shady place among the nuts, where
there was an upright stone slab, like a tombstone, with the inscription:
TO ALCOHOL.
He had dug a grave, and poured into it a quantity of wine and beer and
spirits, and placed the stone as a memorial of his abhorrence of drink.
The whole thing remains in my mind like a picture--the shady groves of
old nuts, in tenderest early leaf, the pale Daffodils, the mighty
chained mastiffs with bloodshot eyes and murderous fangs, the brawny,
wholesome forewoman, and the trim old gentleman in black. It was the
only nursery I ever saw where one would expect to see fairies on a
summer's night.
I never tire of admiring and praising _Iris stylosa_, which has proved
itself such a good plant for English gardens; at any rate, for those in
our southern counties. Lovely in form and colour, sweetly-scented and
with admirable foliage, it has in addition to these merits the unusual
one of a blooming season of six months' duration. The first flowers come
with the earliest days of November, and its season ends with a rush of
bloom in the first half of April. Then is the time to take up old tufts
and part them, and plant afresh; the old roots will have dried up into
brown wires, and the new will be pushing. It thrives in rather poor
soil, and seems to bloom all the better for having its root-run invaded
by some stronger plant. When I first planted a quantity I had brought
from its native place, I made the mistake of putting it in a
well-prepared border. At first I was delighted to see how well it
flourished, but as it gave me only thick masses of leaves a yard long,
and no flowers, it was clear that it wanted to be less well fed. After
changing it to poor soil, at the foot of a sunny wall close to a strong
clump of Alstroemeria, I was rewarded with a good crop of flowers; and
the more the Alstroemeria grew into it on one side and _Plumbago
Larpenti_ on the other, the more freely the brave little Iris flowered.
The flower has no true stem; what serves as a stem, sometimes a foot
long, is the elongated style, so that the seed-pod has to be looked for
deep down at the base of the tufts of leaves, and almost under ground.
The specific name, _stylosa_, is so clearly descriptive, that one
regrets that the longer, and certainly uglier, _unguicularis_ should be
preferred by botanists.
What a delight it was to see it for the first time in its home in the
hilly wastes, a mile or two inland from the town of Algiers! Another
lovely blue Iris was there too, _I. alata_ or _scorpioides_, growing
under exactly the same conditions; but this is a plant unwilling to be
acclimatised in England. What a paradise it was for flower-rambles,
among the giant Fennels and the tiny orange Marigolds, and the immense
bulbs of _Scilla maritima_ standing almost out of the ground, and the
many lovely Bee-orchises and the fairy-like _Narcissus serotinus_, and
the groves of Prickly Pear wreathed and festooned with the graceful
tufts of bell-shaped flower and polished leaves of _Clematis cirrhosa_!
It was in the days when there were only a few English residents, but
among them was the Rev. Edwyn Arkwright, who by his happy discovery of a
white-flowered _Iris stylosa_, the only one that has been found wild,
has enriched our gardens with a most lovely variety of this excellent
plant. I am glad to be able to quote his own words:--
"The finding of the white _Iris stylosa_ belongs to the happy old times
twenty-five years ago, when there were no social duties and no
vineyards[1] in Algiers. My two sisters and I bought three horses, and
rode wild every day in the scrub of Myrtle, Cistus, Dwarf Oak, &c. It
was about five miles from the town, on what is called the 'Sahel,' that
the one plant grew that I was told botanists knew ought to exist, but
with all their searching had never found. I am thankful that I dug it up
instead of picking it, only knowing that it was a pretty flower. Then
after a year or two Durando saw it, and took off his hat to it, and told
me what a treasure it was, and proceeded to send off little bits to his
friends; and among them all, Ware of Tottenham managed to be beforehand,
and took a first-class certificate for it. It is odd that there should
never have been another plant found, for there never was such a
free-growing and multiplying plant. My sister in Herefordshire has had
over fifty blooms this winter; but we count it by thousands, and it is
_the_ feature in all decorations in every English house in Algiers."
[1] The planting of large vineyards, in some cases of private
enterprise, had not proved a financial success.
Throughout January, and indeed from the middle of December, is the time
when outdoor flowers for cutting and house decoration are most scarce;
and yet there are Christmas Roses and yellow Jasmine and Laurustinus,
and in all open weather _Iris stylosa_ and Czar Violets. A very few
flowers can be made to look well if cleverly arranged with plenty of
good foliage; and even when a hard and long frost spoils the few
blooms that would otherwise be available, leafy branches alone are
beautiful in rooms. But, as in all matters that have to do with
decoration, everything depends on a right choice of material and the
exercise of taste in disposing it. Red-tinted Berberis always looks well
alone, if three or four branches are boldly cut from two to three feet
long. Branches of the spotted Aucuba do very well by themselves, and are
specially beautiful in blue china; the larger the leaves and the bolder
the markings, the better. Where there is an old Exmouth Magnolia that
can spare some small branches, nothing makes a nobler room-ornament. The
long arching sprays of Alexandrian Laurel do well with green or
variegated Box, and will live in a room for several weeks. Among useful
winter leaves of smaller growth, those of _Epimedium pinnatum_ have a
fine red colour and delicate veining, and I find them very useful for
grouping with greenhouse flowers of delicate texture. _Gaultheria
Shallon_ is at its best in winter, and gives valuable branches and twigs
for cutting; and much to be prized are sprays of the Japan Privet, with
its tough, highly-polished leaves, so much like those of the orange.
There is a variegated Eurybia, small branches of which are excellent;
and always useful are the gold and silver Hollies.
There is a little plant, _Ophiopogon spicatum_, that I grow in rather
large quantity for winter cutting, the leaves being at their best in the
winter months. They are sword-shaped and of a lively green colour, and
are arranged in flat sheaves after the manner of a flag-Iris. I pull up
a whole plant at a time--a two-year-old plant is a spreading tuft of the
little sheaves--and wash it and cut away the groups of leaves just at
the root, so that they are held together by the root-stock. They last
long in water, and are beautiful with Roman Hyacinths or Freesias or
_Iris stylosa_ and many other flowers. The leaves of Megaseas,
especially those of the _cordifolia_ section, colour grandly in winter,
and look fine in a large bowl with the largest blooms of Christmas
Roses, or with forced Hyacinths. Much useful material can be found among
Ivies, both of the wild and garden kinds. When they are well established
they generally throw out rather woody front shoots; these are the ones
to look out for, as they stand out with a certain degree of stiffness
that makes them easier to arrange than weaker trailing pieces.
I do not much care for dried flowers--the bulrush and pampas-grass
decoration has been so much overdone, that it has become wearisome--but
I make an exception in favour of the flower of _Eulalia japonica_, and
always give it a place. It does not come to its full beauty out of
doors; it only finishes its growth late in October, and therefore does
not have time to dry and expand. I grew it for many years before finding
out that the closed and rather draggled-looking heads would open
perfectly in a warm room. The uppermost leaf often confines the flower,
and should be taken off to release it; the flower does not seem to
mature quite enough to come free of itself. Bold masses of Helichrysum
certainly give some brightness to a room during the darkest weeks of
winter, though the brightest yellow is the only one I much care to have;
there is a look of faded tinsel about the other colourings. I much prize
large bunches of the native Iris berries, and grow it largely for winter
room-ornament.
Among the many valuable suggestions in Mrs. Earle's delightful book,
"Pot-pourri from a Surrey Garden," is the use indoors of the smaller
coloured gourds. As used by her they give a bright and cheerful look to
a room that even flowers can not surpass.
[Illustration: A WILD JUNIPER.]