A Talk About Several Things.
"Spake full well in language quaint and olden,
One who dwelleth by the castled Rhine,
When he called the flowers, so blue and golden,
Stars, that in earth's firmament do shine.
Wondrous truths, and manifold as wondrous,
God hath written in those stars above;
But not less in these bright flowerets under us,
Stands the revelation of His love."
What changes have been manifested--how unceasingly and with what
deftness Nature has silently wrought in tapestry and embroidery,
sculpture and painting, till beauty is all around us, in the green
carpet of earth, brightened with flowers and leafage of every hue! No
wonder the birds sing praises to Him who gave them life with its
fullness of blessings. Sad to think that man, high over all, and under
the greatest obligation, too often is silent in thanksgiving for the
gifts of a Father's love.
No month to me has such charms as June, when nature's robes are so fresh
and clean, and the balmy air is redolent with fragrance. How delightful
to be abroad with the early worm and early bird, working in the garden,
while the songsters give free concerts, and the hum of the honey bird,
and buzz of the bee, set forth a good example of cheerful industry!
The house plants have become established in the open border, and are so
glad to get away from artificial heat and confined atmosphere into the
broad sunlight of heaven, and breathe in full draughts of pure air and
sweet dew, that they put on their best attire, and most attractive
ornaments. Before the roses bloom, the bed of geraniums looks bright
with flowers, each ambitious to excel his or her neighbor, either in
beauty of color, or form, or duration of bloom, thus leaving me in
perplexity as to choice. When _Pliny_ bloomed everybody admired who saw
his beauty; then _Romeo_ with quite another style looked charming, but
when _Naomi_ unfolded her large trusses of double pips, of a rare,
peculiar shade, nobody ever saw a geranium quite so lovely, and then its
duration of bloom--full six weeks! _Jennie Dolfus_, however, became a
dangerous rival--a deeper, richer shade, and not a pip would she allow
to fade so long as _Naomi_ looked so pert. Some said, "I like _Naomi_
the best;" others said, "I think _Jennie_ is the prettiest." But
_Beauty_, close by, hearing the praises lavished on her sisters, and
perchance trusting in her good name, came forth one day in dress of
white with deep pink ornamentation. Never had such unique beauty as this
ever been seen in Geranium before, and, "Isn't it lovely!" "Just
splendid!" "What a beauty!" were uttered with exclamation points, till
she blushed with becoming modesty--the flush spread and deepened until
her face was completely suffused with the delicate tint, making her yet
more attractive. _Wellington_ donned his crimson suit, and _De Gasx_ an
orange yellow; _Pauline Lucca_, prima donna though she be, appeared in
dress of pure white, and _Richard Dean_ in scarlet with a white star
that was very becoming. _New Life_ thought to draw special attention by
odd freaks, and came out in a parti-colored dress of the most singular
combinations; part of it was scarlet dotted with white--part of it half
scarlet, half salmon, part of it widely striped, and part white with
just a flush of pink! I must call him the clown of the family!
I have only named a few of the rare Geraniums that adorn one of the beds
of my garden. For beauty, free flowering, and duration of bloom they
cannot be surpassed.
Interspersed with them are ornamental leaved Geraniums, _Crystal Palace
Gem_, an improvement on _Cloth of Gold_; _Marshal McMahon_, the best of
all the bronzes; _Cherub_, deep green, white and orange, flowers
carmine; _Glen Eyre Beauty_, _Dr. Livingstone_, a new, sweet-scented,
fine cut-leaved Geranium; _Happy Thought_, one of the most attractive,
with its dark green leaves and creamy white center. Here and there are
commingled Anchryanthus of divers hues, and Coleosus, giving a fine
effect to the whole. This is now the most attractive bed of all, but
when the Lilies are in bloom, and the dear little Tea Roses, the bed
parallel with it will be the sweetest, if not so brilliant.
This year I have a tropical bed of oblong form. A Castor Bean rises
majestically in the center, two beautiful Cannas each side, while a
Dracæna, a splendid Croton, two fancy Caladiums, and a few other choice
plants fill the space, the whole bordered with Coxcombs. In a few weeks
this bed will look gorgeous, and those filled with annuals will have
changed from their present inattractiveness to delightful bloom. August
is really the month of fullness of blossom, and of restful enjoyment of
beauty and fragrance. The weary days of preparation, of bedding out and
of weeding, are over, and one may now give themselves up to the
enjoyment of the fruit of their labor, till the chill nights of autumn
bring a renewal of the toil.
"Does the brief period of restful enjoyment repay for the many weary
days antecedent and subsequent?"
Yes, richly, fully, for there is pleasure with the toil, and to me
health-giving influences that energize the physical system for indoor
work, and stimulate the brain for literary pursuits. To me my garden is
a God-send, fraught with blessings.
"Gardening is a pleasant pastime." I am prepared to adopt that sentiment
to-day, if I did demur somewhat last month. It is a delightful pastime,
in the early morning, to spend an hour among the flowers, trowel in
hand, rooting out the weeds, loosening the soil around your plants, and
tying up here and there the tall and fragile, while the birds are
singing in the trees around you their morning song of gladness. How the
dew-laden grass and shrubs impart sweetness to the air, and your lungs
inhaling its purity, are expanded and invigorated, your whole system
feels the better for the tonic, and prepares for breakfast, and the work
that shall follow.
It is a pleasant pastime, when wearied with toil you go forth for a time
among your flowers and search for the buds, or examine the newly-opened
flower. How it rests you!
It is a pleasant pastime, when the labors of the day are over, and the
sun is throwing long shadows from the west, you take watering-pot in
hand, and shower the refreshing spray upon your plants, cleansing them
from the dust, and cooling them after the heat. How they thrive, and bud
and bloom!
The Love of Flowers.
"We should love flowers, for when we are gone
From this forgetful world a few short years--
Nay, months, perhaps--those whom we hold most dear,
Cease to bedew our memories with tears,
And no more footsteps mark the paths that lead
To where we dreamless lie; but God's dear flowers
Give to our very graves the loveliness
That won our tender praise when life was ours."