THE OLD FARM HOUSE AND GARDEN.
The old unpainted farm house, built of logs a century ago, had changed
in the passing years to a grayish tint. An addition had been built to
the house several years before Aunt Sarah's occupancy, The sober hue
of the house harmonized with the great, gnarled old trunk of the
meadow willow near-by. Planted when the house was built, it spread its
great branches protectingly over it. A wild clematis growing at the
foot of the tree twined its tendrils around the massive trunk until in
late summer they had become an inseparable part of it, almost covering
it with feathery blossoms.
[Illustration: Old Corn Crib]
[Illustration: The New Barn]
Near by stood an antique arbor, covered with thickly-clustering vines,
in season bending with the weight of "wild-scented" grapes, their
fragrance mingling with the odor of "Creek Mint" growing near by a
small streamlet and filling the air with a delicious fragrance. The
mint had been used in earlier years by Aunt Sarah's grandfather as a
beverage which he preferred to any other.
From a vine clambering up the grape arbor trellies, in the fall of the
year, hung numerous orange-colored balsam apples, which opened, when
ripe, disclosing bright crimson interior and seeds. These apples, Aunt
Sarah claimed, if placed in alcohol and applied externally, possessed
great medicinal value as a specific for rheumatism.
[Illustration: THE OLD FARM HOUSE]
A short distance from the house stood the newly-built red barn, facing
the pasture lot. On every side stretched fields which, in summer,
waved with wheat, oats, rye and buckwheat, and the corn crib stood
close by, ready for the harvest to fill it to overflowing. Beside the
farm house door stood a tall, white oleander, planted in a large,
green-painted wooden tub. Near by, in a glazed earthenware pot, grew
the old-fashioned lantana plant, covered with clusters of tiny
blossoms, of various shades of orange, red and pink.
In flower beds outlined by clam shells which had been freshly
whitewashed blossomed fuchsias, bleeding hearts, verbenas, dusty
millers, sweet clove-scented pinks, old-fashioned, dignified, purple
digitalis or foxglove, stately pink Princess Feather, various
brilliant-hued zinnias, or more commonly called "Youth and Old Age,"
and as gayly colored, if more humble and lowly, portulacas; the
fragrant white, star-like blossoms of the nicotiana, or "Flowering
Tobacco," which, like the yellow primrose, are particularly fragrant
at sunset. Geraniums of every hue, silver-leaved and rose-scented;
yellow marigolds and those with brown, velvety petals; near by the
pale green and white-mottled leaves of the plant called "Snow on the
Mountain" and in the centre of one of the large, round flower beds,
grew sturdy "Castor Oil Beans," their large, copper-bronze leaves
almost covering the tiny blue forget-me-nots growing beneath. Near the
flower bed grew a thrifty bush of pink-flowering almonds; not far
distant grew a spreading "shrub" bush, covered with fragrant brown
buds, and beside it a small tree of pearly-white snowdrops.
Sarah Landis loved the wholesome, earthy odors of growing plants and
delighted in her flowers, particularly the perennials, which were
planted promiscuously all over the yard. I have frequently heard her
quote: "One is nearer God's heart in a garden than any place else on
earth." And she would say, "I love the out-of-door life, in touch with
the earth; the natural life of man or woman." Inside the fence of the
kitchen garden were planted straight rows of both red and yellow
currants, and several gooseberry bushes. In one corner of the garden,
near the summer kitchen, stood a large bush of black currants, from
the yellow, sweet-scented blossoms of which Aunt Sarah's bees, those
"Heaven instructed mathematicians," sucked honey. Think of Aunt
Sarah's buckwheat cakes, eaten with honey made from currant, clover,
buckwheat and dandelion blossoms!
Her garden was second to none in Bucks County. She planted tomato
seeds in boxes and placed them in a sunny window, raising her plants
early; hence she had ripe tomatoes before any one else in the
neighborhood. Her peas were earlier also, and her beets and potatoes
were the largest; her corn the sweetest; and, as her asparagus bed was
always well salted, her asparagus was the finest to be had.
Through the centre of the garden patch, on either side the walk, were
large flower beds, a blaze of brilliant color from early Spring, when
the daffodils blossomed, until frost killed the dahlias, asters,
scarlet sage, sweet Williams, Canterbury bells, pink and white
snapdragon, spikes of perennial, fragrant, white heliotrope; blue
larkspur, four o'clocks, bachelor buttons and many other dear,
old-fashioned flowers. The dainty pink, funnel-shaped blossoms of the
hardy swamp "Rose Mallow'" bloomed the entire Summer, the last flowers
to be touched by frost, vying in beauty with the pink monthly roses
planted near by.
Children who visited Aunt Sarah delighted in the small Jerusalem
cherry tree, usually covered with bright, scarlet berries, which was
planted near the veranda, and they never tired pinching the tiny
leaves of the sensitive plant to see them quickly droop, as if dead,
then slowly unfold and straighten as if a thing of life.
Visitors to the farm greatly admired the large, creamy-white lily-like
blossoms of the datura. Farthest from the house were the useful herb
beds, filled with parsley, hoarhound, sweet marjoram, lavender,
saffron, sage, sweet basil, summer savory and silver-striped rosemary
or "old man," as it was commonly called by country folk.
Tall clusters of phlox, a riot of color in midsummer, crimson-eyed,
white and rose-colored blossoms topping the tall stems, and clusters
of brilliant-red bergamot near by had been growing, from time
immemorial, a cluster of green and white-striped grass, without which
no door yard in this section of Bucks County was considered complete
in olden times. Near by, silvery plumes of pampas grass gently swayed
on their reed-like stems. Even the garden was not without splashes of
color, where, between rows of vegetables, grew pale, pink-petaled
poppies, seeming to have scarcely a foothold in the rich soil. But
the daintiest, sweetest bed of all, and the one that Mary enjoyed
most, was where the lilies of the valley grew in the shade near a
large, white lilac bush. Here, on a rustic bench beneath an old apple
tree, stitching on her embroidery, she dreamed happy dreams of her
absent lover, and planned for the life they were to live together some
day, in the home he was striving to earn for her by his own manly
exertions; and she assiduously studied and pondered over Aunt Sarah's
teaching and counsel, knowing them to be wise and good.
A short distance from the farm house, where the old orchard sloped
down to the edge of the brook, grew tall meadow rue, with feathery
clusters of green and white flowers; and the green, gold-lined,
bowl-shaped blossoms of the "Cow Lily," homely stepsisters of the
fragrant, white pond lily, surrounded by thick, waxy, green leaves,
lazily floated on the surface of the water from long stems in the bed
of the creek, and on the bank a carpet was formed by golden-yellow,
creeping buttercups.
In the side yard grew two great clumps of iris, or, as it is more
commonly called, "Blue Flag." Its blossoms, dainty as rare orchids,
with lily-like, violet-veined petals of palest-tinted mauve and
purple.
On the sunny side of the old farm house, facing the East, where at
early morn the sun shone bright and warm, grew Aunt Sarah's pansies,
with velvety, red-brown petals, golden-yellow and dark purple. They
were truly "Heart's Ease," gathered with a lavish hand, and sent as
gifts to friends who were ill. The more she picked the faster they
multiplied, and came to many a sick bed "sweet messengers of Spring."
If Aunt Sarah had a preference for one particular flower, 'twas the
rose, and they well repaid the time and care she lavished on them. She
had pale-tinted blush roses, with hearts of deepest pink; rockland and
prairie and hundred-leaf roses, pink and crimson ramblers, but the
most highly-prized roses of her collection were an exquisite, deep
salmon-colored "Marquis De Sinety" and an old-fashioned pink moss
rose, which grew beside a large bush of mock-orange, the creamy
blossoms of the latter almost as fragrant as real orange blossoms of
the sunny Southland. Not far distant, planted in a small bed by
themselves, grew old-fashioned, sweet-scented, double petunias,
ragged, ripple, ruffled corollas of white, with splotches of brilliant
crimson and purple, their slender stems scarcely strong enough to
support the heavy blossoms.
In one of the sunniest spots in the old garden grew Aunt Sarah's
latest acquisition. "The Butterfly Bush," probably so named on account
of its graceful stems, covered with spikes of tiny, lilac-colored
blossoms, over which continually hovered large, gorgeously-hued
butterflies, vying with the flowers in brilliancy of color, from early
June until late Summer.
Aunt Sarah's sunflowers, or "Sonnen Blume," as she liked to call them,
planted along the garden fence to feed chickens and birds alike, were
a sight worth seeing. The birds generally confiscated the larger
portion of seeds. A pretty sight it was to see a flock of wild
canaries, almost covering the tops of the largest sunflowers, busily
engaged picking out the rich, oily seeds.
Aunt Sarah loved the golden flowers, which always appeared to be
nodding to the sun, and her sunflowers were particularly fine, some
being as much as fifty inches in circumference.
A bouquet of the smaller ones was usually to be seen in a quaint, old,
blue-flowered, gray jar on the farm house veranda in Summertime.
Earlier in the season blossoms of the humble artichoke, which greatly
resemble small sunflowers, or large yellow daisies, filled the jar.
Failing either of these, she gathered large bouquets of golden-rod or
wild carrot blossoms, both of which grew in profusion along the
country lanes and roadside near the farm. But the old gray jar never
held a bouquet more beautiful than the one of bright, blue "fringed
gentians," gathered by Aunt Sarah in the Fall of the year, several
miles distant from the farm.