Читать книгу Talks About Flowers - M. D. Wellcome - Страница 4

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.

THE WILD GARDEN

Mr. B. K. Bliss, of New York, in a note, said: "We have put into your box a packet of flower seeds for the wild garden, which we think will interest you. We also send you the initial number of our new paper, "The American Garden." In this journal I find a very interesting article on "The Wild Garden," how to make it, and a description of one at the country residence of Mr. M. S. Beach, near Peekskill, from his own pen. We will quote a part of it. He says: "We plowed a strip about six feet wide all around a five-acre field, close to the fence. On this plowed ground, the seed, previously well mixed, was thrown just as it happened to come. The surface having afterwards been well smoothed over, we waited the result. This proved satisfactory. We had a wild garden indeed. The plants came up as thickly as they could grow, and flourished and blossomed as freely as though they had enjoyed all the care usually given to hot-house exotics.

"Sweet Alyssum, Mignonnette, the pretty blue Nemophila and bright colored Phlox Drummondii seemed to cover the ground. Morning Glories of every shade and delicate Cypress vines tried to cover the fences and run up every tree. Quaint little yellow and green Gourds appeared in the most unexpected places, and the whole bed seemed to be ablaze with the orange and yellow of the Eschscholtzia, Marigolds, Calendula Officinalis and Zinnias. One of the chief charms of this wild flower bed was the variety and change—not from season to season, but from day to day. Every morning would find some new, unexpected, and previously forgotten flower in bloom."

The packet of Flower Seeds for the "Wild Garden" consists of more than a hundred varieties, sufficient for a square rod of ground. There must needs be a peculiar charm in the "Wild Garden." When one wearies of the monotonous ribbon beds and geometrical designs so long in fashion, they can turn to the spot where flowers run riot at their own sweet will, and give daily surprises because sown broadcast without any regard to their names and location. Multitudes there are, who, with abundance of land at their command, can have one on a large scale, others can have, but a small spot. There are many who have ground specially adapted by its wildness for the blending of the cultivated flowers with those which grow in their native dells or woods. Wild shrubs, wild flowers, wild climbers, can be transplanted to situations quite like their own. There can be ferneries and rockeries, beds of violets and wild evergreens, and combined with careless grace, such tropical plants and brilliant annuals as would give the most pleasing effect and afford a beauty wholly unique.

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