The lengthened days have come,
The busiest of the year--
When the annual house cleaning treads heavily on the toes of spring
gardening, and one feels tempted to crowd the work of two days into one,
though sufficient for the present is the work thereof. The bright warm
days draw one forth to spend "an hour or two" they say, and they mean it
too--with shovel or spade in hand to prepare the flower beds, but the
air is so refreshing, and there is so much to be done, that they keep on
"a little while longer," "just a few minutes more," till Sol pours his
burning rays down upon them with the unmistakable assurance that it is
near the hour of noon.
These are the days that try men's souls, and women's, too; days when one
wishes with Dudley Warner for a "cast iron back," but would fain add the
improvement of rubber hinges; days when the inquiry is often provoked,
"Will it pay?"
As we change the numerous boxes of seedlings from one position to
another, that they may catch the sunbeams, "Will it pay?" As we take
them out of doors these warm days, and bring them all back again at
night, lest the air prove too harsh for the tender things, "Will it
pay?"
Yes, we know from past experience that it will pay even a hundred fold
for all our care when the restful days shall come, and we watch with
hopeful hearts each bud of promise as it grows, and gather our hands
full of lovely flowers, the fruitage of our seed sowing and unceasing
care.
Have been bedding out to-day my old stocky geraniums, after cutting off
all the dead and unsightly branches. These were just packed into large
boxes in the autumn--as closely as possible--dirt then thrown in to fill
up the spaces, and they were put into the cellar and severely let alone
till the weather admitted of their being taken out of doors.
Many throw away their geraniums, if the stalks decay by being
frost-bitten or for some other cause, when often the roots are alive,
and with proper care will sprout again. I had a few in my window box
that were touched by frost one intense cold night in December, and died
down to the roots. To my surprise, they sprouted in March, for I did not
suppose they would be seemingly lifeless so long in a sunny window.
Some of my neighbors hang up their large geraniums by the roots in the
cellar, and thus keep them throughout the winter nicely, but I have
never been successful with this method.
My house plants are nearly all re-potted, ready to be plunged into the
ground the first of June. I put in a bit of potsherd to keep the roots
from going astray, then small pieces of coal for drainage, then fill
with mellow sifted soil, enriched with well-rotted manure. I found it so
much better last year to bed out in pots that I shall practice it more
fully this summer. When the time comes in the autumn for taking them in
doors, the work can be done in half the time.
My seedlings will be six weeks or more in advance than those sown in the
open border. My sweet peas must go out very soon or I shall have to give
them a support, they are so tall.
Now I am going to tell you about another sort of a garden--"a spick-span
new" sort--and I know you will be pleased to hear about it, and I think
you will want to have one of your own.