SOME RESULTS.
In addition to Longleat, and other cases previously mentioned, a
few of the results obtained, where the system was tried, and so far
as known to me, may not be without interest. How much a wild garden
intelligently and tastefully carried out may effect for a country seat
is fairly well shown in a garden in Oxfordshire. Here is one of the
earliest, and probably one of the largest wild gardens existing, and
which, visiting it on the 27th May, I found full of novel charms. No
old–fashioned garden yields its beauty so early in the year, or over
a more prolonged season, than the wild garden, as there is abundant
evidence here; but our impressions shall be those of the day only. It
may serve to throw light on the possibilities of garden embellishment
in one way at a season when there is a great blank in many gardens—the
time of “bedding out.” The maker of this had no favourable or inviting
site with which to deal; no great variety of surface, which makes
attempts in this direction so much easier and happier; no variety of
soil, which might enable plants of widely different natural habitats
to be grown; only a neglected plantation, with rather a poor gravelly
soil and a gentle slope in one part, and little variety of surface
beyond a few gravel banks thrown up long before. The garden is, for the
most part, arranged on each side of a Grass drive among rather open
ground, few trees on the one hand and rather shady ground on the other.
The most beautiful aspect at the end of May of a singularly ungenial
spring, which had not allowed the Pæonies to unfold, was that of the
German Irises, with their great Orchid–like blossoms seen everywhere
through the wood, clear above the Grass and other herbage, stately and
noble flowers that, like the Daffodils, fear no weather, yet with rich
and delicate hues that could not be surpassed by tropical flowers. If
this wild garden only should teach this effective way of using the
various beautiful and vigorous kinds of Iris now included in our garden
flora, it would do good service. The Irises are perfectly at home in
the wood and among the Grass and wild flowers. By–and–by, when they
go out of flower, they will not be in the way as in a “mixed border,”
tempting one to remove them, but grow and rest quietly among the grass
until the varied blossoms of another year again repay the trouble of
substituting these noble hardy flowers for some of the familiar weeds
and wild plants that inhabit our plantations.
[Illustration: Crane’s Bill wild, in grass.]
In the wild garden the fairest of our own wild flowers may be happily
associated with their relatives from other countries. Here the sturdy
Bell–flowered Scilla (S. campanulata) grows wild with our own Bluebell
(S. nutans); the white and pink forms also of the last–named look
beautiful here associated with the common well–known form. The earlier
Scillas are of course past; they are admirably suited for the wild
garden, especially S. bifolia, which thrives freely in woods. The
Lily of the Valley did not inhabit the wood before; therefore it was
pleasant to thin out some of its over–matted tufts and carry them to
the wild garden, where they are now in fullest beauty. It is associated
with its tall and stately relation the Solomon’s Seal. The Solomon’s
Seal, which is usually effective when issuing forth from fringes of
shrubberies, is here best arching high over the Woodruff and other
sweet woodland flowers, among which it seems a giant, with every leaf,
and stem, and blossom lines of beauty. The additional vigour and beauty
shown by this plant when in rich soil well repays one for selecting
suitable spots for it. The greater Celandine (Chelidonium majus)
and its double form are very pretty here with their tufts of golden
flowers; they grow freely and take all needful care of themselves. The
same may be said of the Honesty, the common forms of Columbine, and
Allium Moly, an old–fashioned plant, and one of the many subjects at
home in the wild garden, and which are better left out of the garden
proper. The myriads of Crocus leaves dying off without the indignity
of being tied into bundles as is common in gardens, the dense growth
of Aconite and Snowdrop leaves, of coloured and common Primroses and
Cowslips, suggest the beauty of this wild garden in spring. The yet
unfolded buds on the many tufts and groups of the numerous herbaceous
Pæonies, promise noble effects early in June; so do the tufts of
the splendid Eastern Poppy (Papaver orientale) and the Lilies, and
Sweet Williams, and Adam’s Needles, and many other subjects, that
will show their blossoms above or among the summer Grass in due time.
Among the best of the Borageworts here at present, are the Caucasian
Comfrey (Symphytum caucasicum), an admirable wood or copse plant,
and red–purple or Bohemian Comfrey (S. bohemicum), which is very
handsome here. And what lovely effects from the Forget–me–nots—the wood
Forget–me–not, and the Early Forget–me–not (M. dissitiflora) are here!
where their soft little clouds of blue in the Grass are much prettier
than tufts of the same kind surrounded by the brown earth in a prim
border. Here the pushing of the delicate Grass blades through the blue
mass and the indefinite way in which the fringes of the tufts mingle
with the surrounding vegetation are very beautiful.
[Illustration: Large–leafed Saxifrage in the Wild Garden.]
The only noticeable variation of surface is that of some gravel banks,
which are properly covered with Stonecrops, Saxifrages, and the like,
which would, as a rule, have a poor chance in the Grass. Surfaces that
naturally support a very sparse and dwarf vegetation are valuable in
a garden, as they permit of the culture of a series of free–growing
alpine and rock plants that would not be able to hold their own
among Grass and ordinary weeds and wild flowers. One of the happiest
features of this wild garden results from the way in which dead trees
have been adorned. Once dead, some of the smaller branches are lopped
off, and one or more climbers planted at the base of the tree. Here
a Clematis, a climbing Rose, a new kind of Ivy, a wild Vine, or a
Virginian Creeper, have all they require, a firm support on which they
may arrange themselves after their own natural habit, without being
mutilated, or without trouble to the planter, and fresh ground free to
themselves. What an admirable way, too, of growing the many and varied
species of Clematis! as beautiful as varieties with flowers as large
as saucers. Even when an old tree falls and tosses up a mass of soil
and roots the wild gardener is ready with some subject from his mixed
border to adorn the projection, and he may allow some choice Bramble
or wild Vine to scramble over the prostrate stem. A collection of
Ivies grown on old tree–stems would be much more satisfactory than on
a wall, and not liable to robe each other at the roots, and interfere
with each other in the air. Ferns are at home in the wild garden; all
the strong hardy kinds may be grown in it, and look better in it among
the flowers than in the “hardy Fernery” properly so called. Even more
graceful than the Ferns, and in some cases more useful, because they
send up their plume–like leaves very early in the year, are the giant
Fennels (Ferula), which grow well here, and hold their own easily among
the strongest plants. The common Fennel is also here, but it seeds so
freely that it becomes a troublesome weed, and shows a tendency to
overrun plants of greater value. This reminds us of certain subjects
that should be introduced with caution into all but the remotest parts
of the wild garden. Such plants as Heracleum, Willow Herb, and many
others, that overcome all obstacles, and not only win but destroy all
their fellows in the struggle for life, should only be planted in
outlying positions, islands, hedges, small bits of isolated wood or
copse, where their effects might be visible for a season, and where
they might ramble without destroying. In short, they never should
be planted where it is desired to encourage a variety of beautiful
subjects. Rabbits—dreaded vermin to the wild gardener—are kept out
here effectually by means of wire fencing. The presence of these pests
prevents all success in the wild garden. The encouragement of creatures
that feed on slugs is desirable, as these are the most potent cause of
mischief to hardy flowers. To succeed with the wild garden, one should
have a good collection of hardy flowers from which it can be supplied.
Here one has been formed, consisting of about 1100 species, mostly
arranged in borders. From these, from time to time, over–vigorous
and over–abundant kinds may be taken to the wilderness. In a large
collection one frequently finds species most suited for full liberty in
woods. The many subjects good in all positions, may increase in these
borders till plentiful enough for planting out in some quantity in the
wild garden. The wild garden here has been wholly formed by the owner,
who planted with his own hands the various subjects that now adorn it
throughout the year. It has been done within four or five years, and
therefore many of the climbers have not as yet attained full growth.
Tew Park will long be interesting, from the fact that it was there J.
C. Loudon practised agriculture before he began writing the works which
were such a marked addition to the horticultural literature of England.
The Grove there is a plantation of fine trees, bordering a wide sweep
of grass, which varies in width. This grove, unlike much of the rest
of the ground, does not vary in surface, or but very little, so that
one of the greatest aids is absent. Originally this now pleasant grove
was a dense wood, with Gout–weed mainly on the ground, and troublesome
flies in the air. A few years ago the formation of a wild garden was
determined upon, and the first operation was the thinning of the wood;
light and moving air were let into it, and weak or overcrowded trees
removed. This, so far, was a gain, quite apart from the flowers that
were in good time to replace the few common weeds that occupied the
ground. Of these the unattractive Gout–weed was the most abundant, and
the first thing to do was to dig it up. It was found that by deeply
digging the ground, and sowing the wood Forget–me–not in its place,
this weed disappeared. Who would not exchange foul weeds for Lilies of
the Valley and Wood Forget–me–nots! The effect of broad sheets of this
Wood Forget–me–not (Myosotis sylvatica) beyond, and seen above the long
waving Grass gradually receding under the trees, was very beautiful;
now (June) its beauty is not so marked as earlier, when the colour was
fuller, from the plants being more compact; but one charm of the wild
garden is that the very changes of plants from what may be thought
their most perfect state, may be in itself the source of a new pleasure
instead of a warning, such as so often occurs in the garden, that we
must cut them down or replace them.
[Illustration: Tiger Lilies in Wild Garden at Great Tew.]
Not to mow is almost a necessity in the wild garden: considering that
there is frequently in large gardens much more mown surface than is
necessary, many will not regret this need. Here the Grass is designedly
left unmown in many places, and thereby much labour is saved. Of course
it may be cut when ripe, and most of the spring flowers have past and
their leaves are out of danger; even in parts where no flowers are
planted the Grass is left till long enough to cut as meadow. Except
where actually required as a carpet, Grass may often be allowed to grow
even in the pleasure ground; quite as good an effect is afforded by the
unmown as the mown Grass—indeed, better when the long Grass is full of
flowers. Three–fourths of the most lovely flowers of cold and temperate
regions are companions of the Grass—like Grasses in hardiness, like
Grasses in summer life and winter rest, like them even in stature.
Whatever plants may seem best to associate with in gardens, an immense
number—more than two thousand species of those now cultivated—would
thrive to perfection among our meadow Grasses, as they do on the
Grassy breast of the mountain in many lands. Some, like the tall
Irises or Columbines, will show their heads clear above the delicate
bloom of the Grass; others, like the Cerastiums, will open their cups
below it, in this way multiplying the variety of effects that may be
obtained. The varieties of Columbine in the Grass were perhaps the
prettiest flowers at the time of my visit. The white, purplish, and
delicately–variegated forms of this charming old plant, just seen above
the tops of the long Grass, growing singly, in little groups, or in
spreading colonies, were sufficient in themselves to form a wild garden
for June. Established among the Grass, they will henceforward, like it,
take care of themselves. The rosy, heart–shaped blooms of the Dielytra
spectabilis are recognised at some distance through the Grass, and,
so grown, furnish a bright and peculiarly pretty effect. Tree Pæonies
succeed admirably, and their great heads of flower quite light up this
charming wilderness. Plants of the Goat’s Beard Spiræa (S. Aruncus)
are very stately and graceful, even now, before their flowering, being
quite 6 ft. high. In a few weeks, when the numerous flowers are open,
they will present quite another aspect. In the wild garden, apart from
the naturalisation of free–growing exotics, the establishment of rare
British flowers is one of the most interesting occupations; and here,
under a Pine tree, the modest, trailing Linnæa borealis of the northern
Fir–woods is beginning to spread. The Foxglove was not originally found
in the neighbourhood; now the ordinary kind and the various other
forms of this fine wild flower adorn the woods. In this way also the
Lily of the Valley has been introduced and is spreading rapidly. Many
climbing Roses and various other climbers have been planted at the
bases of trees and stumps, but, though thriving, the plantation is
as yet too young to show the good effect that these will eventually
produce. There is no finer picture at present to be seen in gardens
than a free–growing flowering creeper, enjoying its own wild way over
an old tree or stump, and sending down a rain of flower–laden shoots.
A Clematis montana here, originally trained on a wall, sent up some of
its shoots through a tree close at hand, where, fortunately, they have
been allowed to remain, and now the long shoots hang from the tree full
of flowers. The large plumes of the nobler hardy Ferns are seen here
and there through the trees and Grass, and well they look—better here
among the Grass and flowers, partially shaded by trees, than in the
hardy Fernery, which is so often a failure, and when a success, often
“too much of a muchness,” so to say. The wild garden of the future
will be also the true home of all the more important hardy Ferns. The
rivals of the Ferns in beauty of foliage, the Ferulas, and various
other umbelliferous plants with beautifully cut foliage, have also
their homes in the wild garden. The Welsh Poppy thrives, as might be
expected, admirably in the grove, its rich yellow cups just showing
above the meadow.
[Illustration: Large–flowered Clematis.]
In another part of the grounds there is a raised walk quite away from
trees, open and dry, with sloping banks on each side. This may be
called a sun–walk, and here quite a different type of vegetation is
grown; Scotch Roses, Brooms, Sun Roses, Rock Roses, etc. It is quite
recently formed, and will probably soon accommodate a more numerous
and interesting flora. Such an open sunny walk, with dry banks near,
is a capital position in which to carry out various phases of the
wild garden. Peculiarly suitable, however, in such a position is a
good illustration of the vegetation of the hot, rocky, and gravelly
hill–sides of the Mediterranean region, and this is quite easily
represented, for the various leguminous plants and dwarf Pea–flowered
shrubs, such as the Spanish Broom, many of the beautiful Rock Roses
(Cistus), the Sun Roses (Helianthemum), and the Lavenders, will, with a
host of companions, for the most part thrive quite as well on a sunny
sandy bank in England as in Italy or Greece. In the wild garden it is
easy to arrange aspects of vegetation having a geographical interest,
and a portion of such a sunny bank as I allude to might be worthily
furnished with the various aromatic plants (nearly all hardy) which one
meets with on the wild hill–sides of Southern France, and which include
Thyme, Balm, Mint, Rosemary, Lavender, and various other old garden
favourites.
True taste in the garden is unhappily much rarer than many people
suppose. No amount of expense, rich collections, good cultivation,
large gardens, and plenty of glass, will suffice; all these and much
more it is not difficult to see, but a few acres of garden showing
a real love of the beautiful in Nature, as it can be illustrated in
gardens, is rare, and when it is seen it is often rather the result of
accident than design. This is partly owing to the fact that the kind
of knowledge one wants in order to form a really beautiful garden is
very uncommon. No man can do so with few materials. It is necessary
to have some knowledge of the enormous wealth of beauty which the
world contains for the adornment of gardens; and yet this knowledge
must not have a leaning, or but very partially, towards the Dryasdust
character. The disposition to “dry” and name everything, to concern
oneself entirely with nomenclature and classification, is not in
accordance with a true gardening spirit—it is the _life_ we want. The
garden of the late Mr. Hewittson, at Weybridge, contained some of
the most delightful bits of garden scenery which I have ever seen.
Below the house, on the slope over the water of Oatlands Park, and
below the usual lawn beds, trees, etc., there is a piece of heathy
ground which, when we saw it, was charming beyond any power of the
pencil to show. The ground was partially clad with common Heaths with
little irregular green paths through them, and abundantly naturalised
in the warm sandy soil were the Sun Roses, which are shown in the
foreground of the plate. Here and there among the Heaths, creeping
about in a perfectly natural–looking fashion, too, was the Gentian
blue Gromwell (Lithospermum prostratum), with other hardy plants
suited to the situation. Among these naturalised groups were the
large Evening Primroses and Alstrœmeria aurea, the whole being well
relieved by bold bushes of flowering shrubs, so tastefully grouped
and arranged as not to show a trace of formality. Such plants as
these are not set out singly and without preparation, but carefully
planted in beds of such naturally irregular outline, that when the
plants become established they seem native children of the soil, as
much as the Bracken and Heath around. It is remarkable how all this
is done without in the least detracting from the most perfect order
and keeping. Closely–shaven glades and wide Grass belts wind about
among such objects, while all trees that require special care and
attention show by their health and size that they find all they require
in this beautiful garden. It is more free from needless or offensive
geometrical–twirling, barren expanse of gravelled surface, and all
kinds of puerilities—old–fashioned and new–fangled—than any garden I
have seen for years.
The following, from a correspondent, shows what may be done with few
advantages as to space or situation:—
We have a dell with a small stream of spring water running through it.
When I first came to Brockhurst I found this stream carried underground
by a tile culvert, and the valley sides covered with Rhododendrons, the
soil between carefully raked and kept free from weeds, so that it was
only during springtime that flowers relieved the sombre effect of this
primness. After five years this has all been changed into what I think
you would call a wild garden, and we have cheerfulness and beauty all
the year round.
[Illustration: Sun Roses (Cistus) and other exotic hardy plants among
heather, on sandy slope.]
[Illustration: Wood and herbaceous Meadow–sweets grouped together in
Mr. Hewittson’s garden.]
In the first place the brooklet was brought to the surface, and
its course fringed with marsh plants, such as Marsh Marigolds,
Forget–me–nots, Celandines, Irises, Primroses, and Ranunculuses,
together with Osmundas, Hart’s–tongues, and other Ferns. Many
large–growing Carexes and ornamental Rushes are also here. Little
flats were formed and filled with peat, in which Cypripediums,
Trilliums, Orchises, Solomon’s Seal, and many rare bog plants find
a home. In the valley we have planted bulbs by thousands—Crocuses,
Snowdrops, Daffodils, Narcissi, etc. The Rhododendrons were thinned and
interspersed with Azaleas, Aucubas, and other handsome–foliaged shrubs,
to give brightness to the spring flowering, and rich colour to the
foliage in autumn. In the spaces between we introduced wild Hyacinths
everywhere, and in patches amongst these the Red Campion, together
with every other pretty wild flower we could obtain—Forget–me–nots,
Globe–flowers, Columbines, Anemones, Primroses, Cowslips, Polyanthuses,
Campanulas, Golden Rods, etc. All the bulbs which have bloomed in the
greenhouses are planted out in these spaces, so that there are now
large clumps of choice sorts of Crocus, Tulip, Narcissus, and Hyacinth.
We have also planted bulbs very extensively, and as they have been
allowed to grow on undisturbed we have now large patches of Daffodils,
Narcissi, and other spring flowers in great beauty and exuberance.
When we trim the garden all the spare plants are brought here, where
they form a reserve, and it is thus gradually getting stocked, and all
the bare ground covered with foliage and flowers. Lastly, for autumn
blooming we raised large quantities of Foxgloves in every colour, and
the larger Campanulas, and these were pricked out everywhere, so that
we have a glorious show of Foxglove flowers to close the year worth all
the trouble. A wild garden of this sort is a very useful reserve ground,
where many a plant survives after it has been lost in the borders. Such
spare seedlings as the Aquilegias, Campanulas, Primulas, Trolliuses,
and other hardy plants can here find space until wanted elsewhere, and
one can frequently find blooms for bouquets in the dell when the garden
flowers are over. The Lily of the Valley and Sweet Violet also flourish
here, creeping over heaps of stones, and flower more freely than they do
in more open situations. Visitors often say that the dell beats all the
rest of the garden for beauty, and it certainly gives less trouble in
the attainment.
Brockhurst, Didsbury. In _Garden_. WM. BROCKBANK.
THE WILD GARDEN IN AMERICA.[2]
Probably many of your readers will ask, “What _is_ a wild garden?”
When I came to London, about fifteen years ago, “flower–gardening” had
but one mode of expression only, viz. “bedding out,” and that in its
harshest form—ribbons, borders, and solid masses of flowers of one
colour and one height. The old hardy flowers had been completely swept
away; the various and once popular race of so–called florist’s flowers
were rarely or never seen. As a consequence, gardens were indescribably
monotonous to any person with the faintest notion of the inexhaustible
charms of the plant world. This kind of flower–gardening has the same
relation to true art in a garden which the daubs of colour on an
Indian’s blanket have to the best pictures. In fighting, some years
later, in the various journals open to me, the battle of nature and
variety against this saddening and blank monotony, I was occasionally
met by a ridicule of the old–fashioned mixed border which the bedding
plants had supplanted. Now, a well–arranged and varied mixed border
may be made one of the most beautiful of gardens; but to so form it
requires some knowledge of plants, as well as good taste. Nevertheless,
the objection was just as concerned the great majority of mixed borders;
they were ragged, unmeaning, and even monotonous.
I next began to consider the various ways in which hardy plants might
be grown wholly apart from either way (the bedding plants or that of
the mixed border), and the _wild garden_, or garden formed in the
wilderness, grove, shrubbery, copse, or rougher parts of the pleasure
garden, was a pet idea which I afterwards threw into the form of a
book with this name. In nearly all our gardens we have a great deal
of surface wholly wasted—wide spaces in the shrubbery frequently dug
over in the winter, plantations, grass–walks, hedgerows, rough banks,
slopes, etc., which hitherto have grown only grass and weeds, and on
these a rich garden flora may be grown. Hundreds of the more vigorous
and handsome herbaceous plants that exist will thrive in these places
and do further good in exterminating weeds and preventing the need of
digging. Every kind of surface may be embellished by a person with any
slight knowledge of hardy plants—ditch–banks, gravel–pits, old trees,
hedge–banks, rough, grassy places that are never mown, copses, woods,
lanes, rocky or stony ground.
The tendency has always been to suppose that a plant from another
country than our own was a subject requiring much attention, not
thinking that the conditions that occur in such places as mentioned
above, are, as a rule, quite as favourable as those that obtain in
nature throughout the great northern regions of Europe, Asia, and
America. Here some common plants of the woods of the Eastern States are
considered rarities and coddled accordingly to their destruction. It
is quite a phenomenon to see a flower on the little Yellow Dog’s–Tooth
Violet, which I remember seeing in quantity among the grass in your
noble Central Park. When one has but a few specimens of a plant, it is
best no doubt to carefully watch them. But an exposed and carefully
dug garden border is the worst place to grow many wood and copse
plants (I mean plants that grow naturally in such places), and in
many uncultivated spots here the American Dog’s–Tooth Violet would
flower quite as freely as at home. Your beautiful little May–flower,
Epigæa repens, we have never succeeded in growing in our best American
nurseries, as they are called, which grow your Rhododendrons and other
flowering shrubs so well. If a number of young plants of this were put
out in a sandy fir–wood, under the shrubs and pines, as they grow in New
Jersey, we should succeed at once. Your beautiful Trillium grandiflorum
is usually seen here in a poor state; but I have seen a plant in a shady
position in a shrubbery, in rich, moist soil, quite two feet through and
two feet high.
[Illustration: Woodruft and Ivy.]
I mention these things to show that the wild garden may even have
advantages from the point of view of cultivation. Another advantage
is the facilities it affords us for enjoying representations of the
vegetation of other countries. Here, for example, the poorest soil in
the most neglected copse will grow a mixture of golden rods and asters,
which will give us an aspect of vegetation everywhere seen in American
woods in autumn. This to you may appear a very commonplace delight; but
as we have nothing at all like it, it is welcome. Besides, we in this
way get the golden rods and coarser asters out of the garden proper,
in which they used to overrun the choicer plants, and where they did
much to disgrace the mixed border. So, in like manner, you may, in New
England or New Jersey, make wild gardens of such of our English flowers
as you love. For example, the now numerous and very handsome varieties
of our Primroses, Polyanthuses, and Oxlips would probably succeed better
with you in moist places, in woods, or partially shaded positions, than
in the open garden. There can be no doubt in which position they would
look best. But let us suppose for a moment that there was no other
object for the wild garden in America than growing the many lovely wild
flowers that inhabit the land, it is sufficient. Here some of your
wildlings are the darlings of our rock–garden growers, though we are
far from possessing all the bright flowers and graceful trailers that
adorn the bogs and woods and heaths of the Eastern States. It would
be most wise, in case of possessing a little bit of wood or copse,
adorned naturally with the trailing Partridge Berry, and the rosy Lady’s
Slipper (Cypripedium acaule), which I noticed growing so plentifully, to
preserve the spot as a wild garden, and add to it such home and foreign,
free and handsome hardy plants, as one could obtain.
It is impossible in this letter to speak of the various kinds of wild
gardens, but the opportunity which the system offers for embellishing
cool shady places is one which should make it interesting to the people
to whose language belongs the term “shade trees.” Usually flower beds
and borders are in the full sun—a very proper arrangement in a cool
country. But even in our climate, there are in the warm months many
days in which the woodland shade is sought in preference to the open
lawn, and when the fully–exposed garden is deserted. Therefore, it
is clearly desirable that we have flowers in shady as well as sunny
places. Many plants, too, love the shade, and we only require to plant
the most suitable of these to enjoy a charming wild garden. It need not
be pointed out to Americans that a vast number of herbaceous plants
naturally inhabit woods. In America, where shade is such a necessity,
the wild garden in the shade will be the most delightful retreat near
the country house. In it many of the plants common in the gardens of
all northern countries will, without wearisome attention, flower in the
spring.
For the early summer months flowers of a somewhat later period will be
selected, as, for example, the later Irises—lovely hardy flowers, the
tall Asphodel A. ramosus, the Day Lilies (Hemerocallis), the Solomon’s
Seal and some of its allies, the Veronicas, tall Phloxes, the great
Scarlet Poppy (Papaver bracteatum), Symphytums in variety;—these are all
free–growing and admirable plants for the wild wood–garden. Mulleins
(Verbascum), Salvias, Harebells (Campanula), Willow herbs, tall Lupines,
Geraniums, Spurges, Meadow Rues, Columbines, Delphiniums, and the latest
wind flowers (Anemone).
Later still, and in the sunny days, would come the various beautiful
everlasting peas, various plants of the Mallow tribe, the Poke Weeds,
broad–leaved Sea Lavender, and other vigorous kinds, the Globe Thistles,
Acanthuses, the free–flowering Yuccas, such as Y. flaccida and Y.
filamentosa, the common Artichoke, with its noble flowers; and in
autumn, a host of the Golden Rods and Michaelmas Daisies. These are so
common in America that adding them to the wild garden would probably be
considered a needless labour; but the substitution of the various really
beautiful species of aster for those commonly found and of inferior
beauty would well repay. In case it were thought desirable in making
a wild garden in a shady position to grow plants that do not attain
perfection in such positions, they might be grown in the more open parts
at hand, and sufficiently near to be seen in the picture.
[Illustration]