RASPBERRY LESSONS
It must be remembered that I had spent all my leisure during the winter
in reading and studying the problem of our country life. Therefore I
knew that March was the best month for pruning trees, and I had gained
a fairly correct idea how to do this work. Until within the last two or
three years of his life, old Mr. Jamison had attended to this task
quite thoroughly; and thus little was left for me beyond sawing away
the boughs that had recently died, and cutting out the useless sprouts
on the larger limbs. Before leaving the city I had provided myself with
such tools as I was sure I should need; and finding a ladder under a
shed, I attacked the trees vigorously. The wind had almost died out,
and I knew I must make the most of all still days in this gusty month.
After playing around for a time, Winnie and Bobsey concluded that
gathering and piling up my prunings would be as good fun as anything
else; and so I had helpers again.
By the middle of the afternoon Mr. Jones appeared, and I was glad to
see him, for there were some kinds of work about which I wanted his
advice. At one end of the garden were several rows of blackcap
raspberry bushes, which had grown into an awful snarl. The old canes
that had borne fruit the previous season were still standing, ragged
and unsightly; the new stalks that would bear the coming season
sprawled in every direction; and I had found that many tips of the
branches had grown fast in the ground. I took my neighbor to see this
briery wilderness, and asked his advice.
"Have you got a pair of pruning-nippers?" he asked.
Before going to the house to get them, I blew a shrill whistle to
summon Merton, for I wished him also to hear all that Mr. Jones might
say. I carried a little metallic whistle one blast on which was for
Merton, two for Winnie, and three for Bobsey. When they heard this call
they were to come as fast as their feet could carry them.
Taking the nippers, Mr. Jones snipped off from one-third to one-half
the length of the branches from one of the bushes and cut out the old
dead cane.
"I raise these berries myself for home use," he said; "and I can tell
you they go nice with milk for a July supper. You see, after taking off
so much from these long branches the canes stand straight up, and will
be self-supporting, no matter how many berries they bear; but here and
there's a bush that has grown slant-wise, or is broken off. Now, if I
was you, I'd take a crow-bar 'n' make a hole 'longside these weakly and
slantin' fellers, put in a stake, and tie 'em up strong. Then, soon as
the frost yields, if you'll get out the grass and weeds that's started
among 'em, you'll have a dozen bushel or more of marketable berries
from this 'ere wilderness, as you call it. Give Merton a pair of old
gloves, and he can do most of the job. Every tip that's fast in the
ground is a new plant. If you want to set out another patch, I'll show
you how later on."
"I think I know pretty nearly how to do that."
"Yes, yes, I know. Books are a help, I s'pose, but after you've seen
one plant set out right, you'll know more than if you'd 'a' read a
month."
"Well, now that you're here, Mr. Jones, I'm going to make the most of
you. How about those other raspberries off to the southeast of the
house?"
"Those are red ones. Let's take a look at 'em."
Having reached the patch, we found almost as bad a tangle as in the
blackcap patch, except that the canes were more upright in their growth
and less full of spines or briers.
"It's plain enough," continued Mr. Jones, "that old man Jamison was too
poorly to take much care of things last year. You see, these red
raspberries grow different from those black ones yonder. Those increase
by the tips of the branches takin' root; these by suckers. All these
young shoots comin' up between the rows are suckers, and they ought to
be dug out. As I said before, you can set them out somewhere else if
you want to. Dig 'em up, you know; make a trench in some out-of-the-way
place, and bury the roots till you want 'em. Like enough the neighbors
will buy some if they know you have 'em to spare. Only be sure to cut
these long canes back to within six inches of the ground."
"Yes," I said, "that's all just as I have read in the books."
"So much the better for the books, then. I haven't lived in this
fruit-growin' region all my life without gettin' some ideas as to
what's what. I give my mind to farmin'; but Jamison and I were great
cronies, and I used to be over here every day or two, and so it's
natural to keep comin'."
"That's my good luck."
"Well, p'raps it'll turn out so. Now Merton's just the right age to
help you in all this work. Jamison, you see, grew these raspberries in
a continuous bushy row; that is, say, three good strong canes every
eighteen inches apart in the row, and the rows five feet apart, so he
could run a horse-cultivator between. Are you catchin' on, Merton?"
"Yes, sir," said the boy, with much interest.
"Well, all these suckers and extra plants that are swampin' the ground
are just as bad as weeds. Dig 'em all out, only don't disturb the roots
of the bearin' canes you leave in the rows much."
"How about trimming these?" I asked.
"Well, that depends. If you want early fruit, you'll let 'em stand as
they be; if you want big berries, you'll cut 'em back one-third. Let me
see. Here's five rows of Highland Hardy; miserable poor-tastin' kind;
but they come so early that they often pay the best. Let them stand
with their whole length of cane, and if you can scatter a good
top-dressin' of fine manure scraped up from the barnyard, you'll make
the berries larger. Those other rows of Cuthbert, Reliance, and Turner,
cut back the canes one-third, and you'll get a great deal more fruit
than if you left more wood on 'em. Cuttin' back'll make the berries
big; and so they'll bring as much, p'raps, as if they were early."
"Well, Merton, this all accords with what I've read, only Mr. Jones
makes it much clearer. I think we know how to go to work now, and
surely there's plenty to do."
"Yes, indeed," resumed Mr. Jones; "and you'll soon find the work
crowdin' you. Now come to the big raspberry patch back of the barn, the
patch where the canes are all laid down, as I told you. These are
Hudson River Antwerps. Most people have gone out of 'em, but Jamison
held on, and he was makin' money on 'em. So may you. They are what we
call tender, you see, and in November they must be bent down close to
the ground and covered with earth, or else every cane would be dead
from frost by spring. About the first week in April, if the weather's
mild, you must uncover 'em, and tie 'em to stakes durin' the month."
"Now, Mr. Jones, one other good turn and we won't bother you any more
to-day. All the front of the house is covered by two big grape-vines
that have not been trimmed, and there are a great many other vines on
the place. I've read and read on the subject, but I declare I'm afraid
to touch them."
"Now, you're beyond my depth. I've got a lot of vines home, and I trim
'em in my rough way, but I know I ain't scientific, and we have pretty
poor, scraggly bunches. They taste just as good, though, and I don't
raise any to sell. There's a clever man down near the landin' who has a
big vineyard, and he's trimmed it as your vines ought to have been long
ago. I'd advise you to go and see him, and he can show you all the
latest wrinkles in prunin'. Now, I'll tell you what I come for, in the
first place. You'll remember that I said there'd be a vandoo to-morrow.
I've been over and looked at the stock offered. There's a lot of
chickens, as I told you; a likely-looking cow with a calf at her side;
a fairish and quiet old horse that ought to go cheap, but he'd answer
well the first year. Do you think you'll get more'n one horse to start
with?"
"No; you said I could hire such heavy plowing as was needed at a
moderate sum, and I think we can get along with one horse for a time.
My plan is to go slow, and, I hope, sure."
"That's the best way, only it ain't common. I'll be around in the
mornin' for you and such of the children as you'll take."
"On one condition, Mr. Jones. You must let me pay you for your time and
trouble. Unless you'll do this in giving me my start, I'll have to
paddle my own canoe, even if I sink it."
"Oh, I've no grudge against an honest penny turned in any way that
comes handy. You and I can keep square as we go along. You can give me
what you think is right, and if I ain't satisfied, I'll say so."
I soon learned that my neighbor had no foolish sensitiveness. I could
pay him what I thought the value of his services, and he pocketed the
money without a word. Of course, I could not pay him what his advice
was really worth, for his hard common-sense stood me in good stead in
many ways.