EXAMPLE FROM HARDY BULBS AND TUBERS IN GRASS.
We will now turn from the Forget–me–not order to a very different
type of vegetation—hardy bulbs and other plants dying down after
flowering early in the year, like the Winter Aconite and the Blood–root
(Sanguinaria). How many of us really enjoy the beauty which a judicious
use of a profusion of hardy Spring–flowering Bulbs affords? How many
get beyond the miserable conventionalities of the flower–garden, with
its edgings and patchings, and taking up, and drying, and mere playing
with our beautiful Spring Bulbs? How many enjoy the exquisite beauty
afforded by flowers of this class, established naturally, without
troubling us for attention at any time? The subject of decorating with
Spring–flowering Bulbs is merely in its infancy; at present we merely
place a few of the showiest of them in geometrical lines. The little we
do leads to such a very poor result, that numbers of people, alive to
the real charms of a garden too, scarcely notice Spring Bulbs at all,
regarding them as things which require endless trouble, as interfering
with the “bedding–out;” and in fact, as not worth the pains they
occasion. This is likely to be the case so long as the most effective
and satisfactory of all modes of arranging them is unused; that way is
the placing of them in wild and semi–wild parts of country seats, and
in the rougher parts of a garden, no matter where it may be situated
or how it may be arranged. This way will yield more real interest and
beauty than any other.
Look, for instance, at the wide and bare belts of grass that wind in
and around the shrubberies in nearly every country place; frequently,
they never display a particle of plant–beauty, and are merely places to
be roughly mown now and then. But if planted here and there with the
Snowdrop, the blue Anemone, the Crocus, Scillas, and Winter Aconite,
they would in spring surpass in attractiveness the gayest of spring
gardens. Cushioned among the grass, these would have a more congenial
medium in which to unfold than is offered by the beaten sticky earth
of a border; in the grass of spring, their natural bed, they would
look far better than ever they do when arranged on the bare earth of
a garden. Once carefully planted, they—while an annual source of the
greatest interest—occasion no trouble whatever.
[Ilustration: The association of exotic and British wild flowers in the
Wild Garden.—The Bell–flowered Scilla, naturalised with our own Wood
Hyacinth.]
Their leaves die down so early in spring that they would scarcely
interfere with the mowing of the grass, if that were desired, but I
should not attempt to mow the grass in such places till the season
of vernal beauty had quite passed by. Surely it is enough to have a
portion of lawn as smooth as a carpet at all times, without sending
the mower to shave the “long and pleasant grass” of the other parts
of the grounds. It would indeed be worth while to leave many parts of
the grass unmown for the sake of growing many beautiful plants in it.
If in some spot where a wide fringe of grass spreads out in the bay of
a shrubbery or plantation, and upon this carpet of rising and unshaven
verdure there be dotted, in addition to the few pretty natural flowers
that happened to take possession of it, the blue Apennine Anemone, the
Snowdrop, the Snowflake, Crocuses in variety, Scillas, Grape–Hyacinths,
earlier and smaller Narcissi, the Wood Anemone, and any other pretty
Spring flowers that were suitable to the soil and position, we should
have a glimpse of the vernal beauty of temperate and northern climes,
every flower relieved by grass blades and green leaves, the whole
devoid of any trace of man, or his exceeding weakness for tracing
wall–paper patterns, where everything should be varied, indefinite, and
changeful. In such a garden it would be evident that the artist had
caught the true meaning of nature in her disposition of vegetation,
without sacrificing one jot of anything of value in the garden, but,
on the contrary, adding the highest beauty to spots devoid of the
slightest interest. In connection with this matter I may as well say
here that _mowing the grass once a fortnight in pleasure grounds, as
now practised, is a great and costly mistake_. We want shaven carpets
of grass here and there, but what cruel nonsense both to men and grass
it is to shave as many foolish men shave their faces! There are indeed
places where they boast of mowing forty acres! Who would not rather see
the waving grass with countless flowers than a close shaven surface
without a blossom? Imagine the labour wasted in this ridiculous labour
of cutting the heads off flowers and grass. Let the grass grow till
fit to cut for hay, and we may enjoy in it a world of lovely flowers
that will blossom and perfect their growth before the grass has to be
mown; more than one person who has carried out the ideas expressed in
this book has waving lawns of feathery grass where he used to shave
the grass every ten days; a prairie of flowers where a daisy was not
allowed to peep; and some addition to his hay crop as he allows the
grass to grow till it is fit for that purpose.
It is not only to places in which shrubberies, and plantations, and
belts of grass in the rougher parts of the pleasure–ground, and shady
moss–bordered wood–walks occur that these remarks apply. The suburban
garden, with its single fringe of planting, may show like beauty,
to some extent. It may have the Solomon’s Seal arching forth from a
shady recess, behind tufts of the sweet–scented Narcissus, while in
every case there may be wild fringes of strong and hardy flowers in
the spring sun, and they cannot be cut off by harsh winds as when
exposed in the open garden. What has already been stated is, I hope,
sufficient to show to everybody the kind of place that may be used for
their culture. Wild and semi–wild places, rough banks in or near the
pleasure–ground or flower–garden, such spots as perhaps at present
contain nothing but weeds, or any naturally rough or unused spot about
a garden—such are the places for them. Even where all the lawn must be
mown the Snowdrop may be enjoyed in early spring, for its leaves die
down, or at all events ripen sufficiently before there is any occasion
to mow the grass.
[Illustration: The Turk’s Cap Lily, naturalised in the grass by
wood–walk.]
But the prettiest results are only attainable where the grass need not
be mown till nearly the time the meadows are mown. Then we may have
gardens of Narcissi, such as men never dared to dream about a dozen
years ago; such as no one ever thought possible in a garden. In grass
not mown at all we may even enjoy many of the Lilies, and all the
lovelier and more stately bulbous flowers of the meadows and mountain
lawns of Europe, Asia, and America.
On a stretch of good grass which need not be mown, and on fairly good
soil in any part of our country, beauty may be enjoyed such as has
hitherto only gladdened the heart of the rare wanderer on the high
mountain lawns and copses, in May when the earth children laugh in
multitudes on their mother’s breast.
All planting in the grass should be in natural groups or prettily
fringed colonies, growing to and fro as they like after planting.
Lessons in this grouping are to be had in woods, copses, heaths, and
meadows, by those who look about them as they go. At first many will
find it difficult to get out of formal masses, but that may be got over
by studying natural groupings of wild flowers. Once established, the
plants soon begin to group themselves in a way that leaves nothing to
desire.
[Illustration: Crocuses in turf, in grove of Summer leafing trees.]
[Illustration: Group of Globe flowers (Trollius) in marshy place: type
of the nobler Northern flowers little cultivated in gardens.]