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Manual of Gardening (Second Edition) by L. H. Bailey

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[Illustration: I. The open center.]


It has been my desire to reconstruct the two books, "Garden-Making" and
"Practical Garden-Book"; but inasmuch as these books have found a
constituency in their present form, it has seemed best to let them stand
as they are and to continue their publication as long as the demand
maintains itself, and to prepare a new work on gardening. This new work
I now offer as "A Manual of Gardening." It is a combination and revision
of the main parts of the other two books, together with much new
material and the results of the experience of ten added years.

A book of this kind cannot be drawn wholly from one's own practice,
unless it is designed to have a very restricted and local application.
Many of the best suggestions in such a book will have come from
correspondents, questioners, and those who enjoy talking about gardens;
and my situation has been such that these communications have come to me
freely. I have always tried, however, to test all such suggestions by
experience and to make them my own before offering them to my reader. I
must express my special obligation to those persons who collaborated in
the preparation of the other two books, and whose contributions have
been freely used in this one: to C.E. Hunn, a gardener of long
experience; Professor Ernest Walker, reared as a commercial florist;
Professor L.R. Taft and Professor F.A. Waugh, well known for their
studies and writings in horticultural subjects.

In making this book, I have had constantly in mind the home-maker
himself or herself rather than the professional gardener. It is of the
greatest importance that we attach many persons to the land; and I am
convinced that an interest in gardening will naturally take the place of
many desires that are much more difficult to gratify, and that lie
beyond the reach of the average man or woman.

It has been my good fortune to have seen amateur and commercial
gardening in all parts of the United States, and I have tried to express
something of this generality in the book; yet my experience, as well as
that of my original collaborators, is of the northeastern states, and
the book is therefore necessarily written from this region as a base.
One gardening book cannot be made to apply in its practice in all parts
of the United States and Canada unless its instructions are so general
as to be practically useless; but the principles and points of view may
have wider application. While I have tried to give only the soundest and
most tested advice, I cannot hope to have escaped errors and
shortcomings, and I shall be grateful to my reader if he will advise me
of mistakes or faults that he may discover. I shall expect to use such
information in the making of subsequent editions.

Of course an author cannot hold himself responsible for failures that
his reader may suffer. The statements in a book of this kind are in the
nature of advice, and it may or it may not apply in particular
conditions, and the success or failure is the result mostly of the
judgment and carefulness of the operator. I hope that no reader of a
gardening book will ever conceive the idea that reading a book and
following it literally will make him a gardener. He must always assume
his own risks, and this will be the first step in his personal progress.

I should explain that the botanical nomenclature of this book is that of
the "Cyclopedia of American Horticulture," unless otherwise stated. The
exceptions are the "trade names," or those used by nurserymen and
seedsmen in the sale of their stock.

I should further explain the reason for omitting ligatures and using
such words as peony, spirea, dracena, cobea. As technical Latin
formularies, the compounds must of course be retained, as in _Paeonia
officinali,_ _Spiraea Thunbergi,_ _Dracaena fragrans,_ _Coboea
scandens;_ but as Anglicized words of common speech it is time to follow
the custom of general literature, in which the combinations ae and oe
have disappeared. This simplification was begun in the "Cyclopedia of
American Horticulture" and has been continued in other writings.


ITHACA, NEW YORK, January 20, 1910.



_What a garden is_


_The plan of the grounds_
_The picture in the landscape_
_Birds; and cats_
_The planting is part of the design or picture_
_The flower-growing should be part of the design_
Defects in flower-growing
Lawn flower-beds
The old-fashioned garden
Contents of the flower-borders
_The value of plants may lie in foliage and form rather than in bloom_
Odd and formal trees
Poplars and the like
_Various specific examples_
An example
Another example
A third example
A small back yard
A city lot
General remarks


_The grading_
_The terrace_
_The bounding lines_
_Walks and drives_
The question of drainage, curbing, and gutters
The materials
_Making the borders_
_Making the lawn_
Preparing the ground
The kind of grass
When and how to sow the seed
Securing a firm sod
The mowing
Fall treatment
Spring treatment
Watering lawns
Sodding the lawn
A combination of sodding and seeding
Sowing with sod
Other ground covers


_The draining of the land_
_Trenching and subsoiling_
_Preparation of the surface_
_The saving of moisture_
_Hand tools for weeding and subsequent tillage and other hand work_
The hoe
Trowels and their kind
_Enriching the land_


_Sowing the seeds_
_Propagating by cuttings_
Dormant stem-cuttings
Cuttings of roots
Green cuttings
Cuttings of leaves
General treatment
_Transplanting young seedlings_
_Transplanting established plants and trees_
When to transplant
Depth to transplant
Making the rows straight
Cutting-back; filling
Removing very large trees
_Winter protection of plants_
_Tree surgery and protection_
Tree guards
Mice and rabbits
Girdled trees
Repairing street trees
_The grafting of plants_
_Keeping records of the plantation_
_The storing of fruits and vegetables_
_The forcing of plants_
Management of hotbeds


_Screens and covers_
_Soaking tubers and seeds_
_Insecticide spraying formulas_
_Fungicide spraying formulas_
_Treatment for some of the common insects_
_Treatment for some of the common plant diseases_


_Planting for immediate effect_
_The use of "foliage" trees and shrubs_
_Windbreaks and screens_
_The making of hedges_
_The borders_
_The flower-beds_
Bedding effects
Plants for subtropical effects
_Aquatic and bog plants_
_Rockeries and alpine plants_

_Lists for carpet-beds_

_List of annuals by color of flowers_
_Useful annuals for edgings of beds and walks, and for ribbon-beds_
_Annuals that continue to bloom after frost_
_List of annuals suitable for bedding_ (_that is, for
"mass-effects" of color_)
_List of annuals by height_
_Distances for planting annuals_

_Perennial herbs suitable for lawn and "planting" effects_
_A brief seasonal flower-garden or border list of herbaceous perennials_
_One hundred extra-hardy perennial herbs_

_Fall-planted bulbs_
_List of outdoor fall-planted bulbs for the North_
_Winter bulbs_
_Summer bulbs_

_List of shrubbery plants for the North_
_Shrubs for the South_

_Annual herbaceous climbers_
_Perennial herbaceous climbers_
_Woody perennial climbers_
_Climbing roses_

_List of hardy deciduous trees for the North_
_Non-coniferous trees for the South_

_List of shrubby conifers_
_Arboreous conifers_
_Conifers for the South_

_The window-box for outside effect_
_The inside window-garden, or "house plants"_
_Bulbs in the window-garden_
_Watering house plants_
_Hanging baskets_


century plants;
iris; lily;
sweet pea;
wax plant.


_Dwarf fruit-trees_
_Age and size of trees_
_Thinning the fruit_
_Washing and scrubbing the trees_
_Gathering and keeping fruit_


_Vegetables for six_
_The classes of vegetables_
_The culture of the leading vegetables_
brussels sprouts;
corn salad;
turnips and rutabagas;


SEASONAL REMINDERS For the North For the South




I. The open center.

II. The plan of the place.

III. Open-center treatment in a semi-tropical country.

IV. Subtropical bedding against a building. Caladiums, cannas,
abutilons, permanent rhododendrons, and other large stuff, with tuberous
begonias and balsams between.

V. A subtropical bed. Center of cannas, with border of _Pennisetum
longistylum_ (a grass) started in late February or early March.

VI. A tree that gives character to a place.

VII. Bedding with palms. If a bricked-up pit is made about the porch,
pot palms may be plunged in it in spring and tub conifers in winter; and
fall bulbs in tin cans (so that the receptacles will not split with
frost) may be plunged among the evergreens.

VIII. A well-planted entrance. Common trees and bushes, with Boston ivy.
on the post, and _Berberis Thunbergii_ in front.

IX. A rocky bank covered with permanent informal planting.

X. A shallow lawn pond, containing water-lilies, variegated sweet flag,
iris, and subtropical bedding at the rear; fountain covered with
parrot's feather (_Myriophyllum proserpinacoides_).

XI. A back yard with summer house, and gardens beyond.

XII. A back yard with heavy flower-garden planting.

XIII. The pageant of summer. Gardens of C.W. Dowdeswell, England, from a
painting by Miss Parsons.

XIV. Virginia creeper screen, on an old fence, with wall-flowers and
hollyhocks in front.

XV. Scuppernong grape, the arbor vine of the South. This plate shows the
noted scuppernongs on Roanoke Island, of which the origin is unknown,
but which were of great size more than one hundred years ago.

XVI. A flower-garden of China asters, with border of one of the dusty
millers (_Centaurea_).

XVII. The peony. One of the most steadfast of garden flowers.

XVIII. Cornflower or bachelor's button. _Centaurea Cyanus._

XIX. Pyracantha in fruit. One of the best ornamental-fruited plants for
the middle and milder latitudes.

XX. A simple but effective window-box, containing geraniums, petunias,
verbenas, heliotrope, and vines.

XXI. The king of fruits. Newtown as grown in the Pacific country.

XXII. Wall-training of a pear tree.

XXIII. Cherry currant.

XXIV. Golden Bantam sweet corn.

XXV. The garden radish, grown in fall, of the usual spring sorts.




Wherever there is soil, plants grow and produce their kind, and all
plants are interesting; when a person makes a choice as to what plants
he shall grow in any given place, he becomes a gardener or a farmer; and
if the conditions are such that he cannot make a choice, he may adopt
the plants that grow there by nature, and by making the most of them may
still be a gardener or a farmer in some degree.

Every family, therefore, may have a garden. If there is not a foot of
land, there are porches or windows. Wherever there is sunlight, plants
may be made to grow; and one plant in a tin-can may be a more helpful
and inspiring garden to some mind than a whole acre of lawn and flowers
may be to another.

The satisfaction of a garden does not depend on the area, nor, happily,
on the cost or rarity of the plants. It depends on the temper of the
person. One must first seek to love plants and nature, and then to
cultivate the happy peace of mind that is satisfied with little.

In the vast majority of cases a person will be happier if he has no
rigid and arbitrary notions, for gardens are moodish, particularly with
the novice. If plants grow and thrive, he should be happy; and if the
plants that thrive chance not to be the ones that he planted, they are
plants nevertheless, and nature is satisfied with them.

We are wont to covet the things that we cannot have; but we are happier
when we love the things that grow because they must. A patch of lusty
pigweeds, growing and crowding in luxuriant abandon, may be a better and
more worthy object of affection than a bed of coleuses in which every
spark of life and spirit and individuality has been sheared out and
suppressed. The man who worries morning and night about the dandelions
in the lawn will find great relief in loving the dandelions. Each
blossom is worth more than a gold coin, as it shines in the exuberant
sunlight of the growing spring, and attracts the insects to its bosom.
Little children like the dandelions: why may not we? Love the things
nearest at hand; and love intensely. If I were to write a motto over the
gate of a garden, I should choose the remark that Socrates is said to
have made as he saw the luxuries in the market, "How much there is in
the world that I do not want!"

I verily believe that this paragraph I have just written is worth more
than all the advice with which I intend to cram the succeeding pages,
notwithstanding the fact that I have most assiduously extracted this
advice from various worthy but, happily, long-forgotten authors.
Happiness is a quality of a person, not of a plant or a garden; and the
anticipation of joy in the writing of a book may be the reason why so
many books on garden-making have been written. Of course, all these
books have been good and useful. It would be ungrateful, at the least,
for the present writer to say otherwise; but books grow old, and the
advice becomes too familiar. The sentences need to be transposed and the
order of the chapters varied, now and then, or interest lags. Or, to
speak plainly, a new book of advice on handicraft is needed in every
decade, or perhaps oftener in these days of many publishers. There has
been a long and worthy procession of these handbooks,--Gardiner &
Hepburn, M'Mahon, Cobbett--original, pungent, versatile
Cobbett!--Fessenden, Squibb, Bridgeman, Sayers, Buist, and a dozen
more, each one a little richer because the others had been written. But
even the fact that all books pass into oblivion does not deter another
hand from making still another venture.

[Illustration: Fig. 1. The ornamental burdock]

I expect, then, that every person who reads this book will make a
garden, or will try to make one; but if only tares grow where roses are
desired, I must remind the reader that at the outset I advised pigweeds.
The book, therefore, will suit everybody,--the experienced gardener,
because it will be a repetition of what he already knows; and the
novice, because it will apply as well to a garden of burdocks as
of onions.

* * * * *

_What a garden is._

A garden is the personal part of an estate, the area that is most
intimately associated with the private life of the home. Originally, the
garden was the area inside the inclosure or lines of fortification, in
distinction from the unprotected area or fields that lay beyond; and
this latter area was the particular domain of agriculture. This book
understands the garden to be that part of the personal or home premises
devoted to ornament, and to the growing of vegetables and fruits. The
garden, therefore, is an ill-defined demesne; but the reader must not
make the mistake of defining it by dimensions, for one may have a garden
in a flower-pot or on a thousand acres. In other words, this book
declares that every bit of land that is not used for buildings, walks,
drives, and fences, should be planted. What we shall plant--whether
sward, lilacs, thistles, cabbages, pears, chrysanthemums, or
tomatoes--we shall talk about as we proceed.

The only way to keep land perfectly unproductive is to keep it moving.
The moment the owner lets it alone, the planting has begun. In my own
garden, this first planting is of pigweeds. These may be followed, the
next year, by ragweeds, then by docks and thistles, with here and there
a start of clover and grass; and it all ends in June-grass and

Nature does not allow the land to remain bare and idle. Even the banks
where plaster and lath were dumped two or three years ago are now
luxuriant with burdocks and sweet clover; and yet persons who pass those
dumps every day say that they can grow nothing in their own yard because
the soil is so poor! Yet I venture that those same persons furnish most
of the pigweed seed that I use on my garden.

The lesson is that there is no soil--where a house would be built--so
poor that something worth while cannot be grown on it. If burdocks will
grow, something else will grow; or if nothing else will grow, then I
prefer burdocks to sand and rubbish.

The burdock is one of the most striking and decorative of plants, and a
good piece of it against a building or on a rough bank is just as useful
as many plants that cost money and are difficult to grow. I had a good
clump of burdock under my study window, and it was a great comfort; but
the man would persist in wanting to cut it down when he mowed the lawn.
When I remonstrated, he declared that it was nothing but burdock; but I
insisted that, so far from being burdock, it was really Lappa major,
since which time the plant and its offspring have enjoyed his utmost
respect. And I find that most of my friends reserve their appreciation
of a plant until they have learned its name and its family connections.

The dump-place that I mentioned has a surface area of nearly one hundred
and fifty square feet, and I find that it has grown over two hundred
good plants of one kind or another this year. This is more than my
gardener accomplished on an equal area, with manure and water and a man
to help. The difference was that the plants on the dump wanted to grow,
and the imported plants in the garden did not want to grow. It was the
difference between a willing horse and a balky horse. If a person wants
to show his skill, he may choose the balky plant; but if he wants fun
and comfort in gardening, he would better choose the willing one.

I have never been able to find out when the burdocks and mustard were
planted on the dump; and I am sure that they were never hoed or watered.
Nature practices a wonderfully rigid economy. For nearly half the summer
she even refused rain to the plants, but still they thrived; yet I staid
home from a vacation one summer that I might keep my plants from dying.
I have since learned that if the plants in my hardy borders cannot take
care of themselves for a time, they are little comfort to me.

The joy of garden-making lies in the mental attitude and in the



Having now discussed the most essential elements of gardening, we may
give attention to such minor features as the actual way in which a
satisfying garden is to be planned and executed.

Speaking broadly, a person will get from a garden what he puts into it;
and it is of the first importance, therefore, that a clear conception of
the work be formulated at the outset. I do not mean to say that the
garden will always turn out what it was desired that it should be; but
the failure to turn out properly is usually some fault in the first plan
or some neglect in execution.

Sometimes the disappointment in an ornamental garden is a result of
confusion of ideas as to what a garden is for. One of my friends was
greatly disappointed on returning to his garden early in September to
find that it was not so full and floriferous as when he left it in July.
He had not learned the simple lesson that even a flower-garden should
exhibit the natural progress of the season. If the garden begins to show
ragged places and to decline in late August or early September, it is
what occurs in all surrounding vegetation. The year is maturing. The
garden ought to express the feeling of the different months. The failing
leaves and expended plants are therefore to be looked on, to some extent
at least, as the natural order and destiny of a good garden.

These attributes are well exhibited in the vegetable-garden. In the
spring, the vegetable-garden is a model of neatness and precision. The
rows are straight. There are no missing plants. The earth is mellow and
fresh. Weeds are absent. One takes his friends to the garden, and he
makes pictures of it. By late June or early July, the plants have begun
to sprawl and to get out of shape. The bugs have taken some of them. The
rows are no longer trim and precise. The earth is hot and dry. The weeds
are making headway. By August and September, the garden has lost its
early regularity and freshness. The camera is put aside. The visitors
are not taken to it: the gardener prefers to go alone to find the melon
or the tomatoes, and he comes away as soon as he has secured his
product. Now, as a matter of fact, the garden has been going through its
regular seasonal growth. It is natural that it become ragged. It is not
necessary that weeds conquer it; but I suspect that it would be a very
poor garden, and certainly an uninteresting one, if it retained the
dress of childhood at the time when it should develop the
personalities of age.

There are two types of outdoor gardening in which the progress of the
season is not definitely expressed,--in the carpet-bedding kind, and in
the subtropical kind. I hope that my reader will get a clear distinction
in these matters, for it is exceedingly important. The carpet-bedding
gardening is the making of figure-beds in house-leeks and achyranthes
and coleus and sanitalia, and other things that can be grown in compact
masses and possibly sheared to keep them within place and bounds; the
reader sees these beds in perfection in some of the parks and about
florists' establishments; he will understand at once that they are not
meant in any way to express the season, for the difference between them
in September and June is only that they may be more perfect in
September. The subtropical gardening (plates IV and V) is the planting
out of house-grown stuff, in order to produce given effects, of such
plants as palms, dracenas, crotons, caladiums, papyrus, together with
such luxuriant things as dahlias and cannas and large ornamental
grasses and castor beans; these plants are to produce effects quite
foreign to the expression of a northern landscape, and they are usually
at their best and are most luxuriant when overtaken by the fall frosts.

Now, the home gardener usually relies on plants that more or less come
and go with the seasons. He pieces out and extends the season, to be
sure; but a garden with pansies, pinks, sweet william, roses, sweet
peas, petunias, marigolds, salpiglossis, sweet sultan, poppies, zinnias,
asters, cosmos, and the rest, is a progress-of-the-season garden,
nevertheless; and if it is a garden of herbaceous perennials, it still
more completely expresses the time-of-year.

My reader will now consider, perhaps, whether he would have his garden
accent and heighten his natural year from spring to fall, or whether he
desires to thrust into his year a feeling of another order of
vegetation. Either is allowable; but the gardener should distinguish at
the outset.

I wish to suggest to my reader, also, that it is possible for the garden
to retain some interest even in the winter months. I sometimes question
whether it is altogether wise to clear out the old garden stems too
completely and too smoothly in the fall, and thereby obliterate every
mark of it for the winter months; but however this may be, there are two
ways by which the garden year may be extended: by planting things that
bloom very late in fall and others that bloom very early in spring; by
using freely, in the backgrounds, of bushes and trees that have
interesting winter characters.

* * * * *

_The plan of the grounds_ (see Plate II).

[Illustration II.: The plan of the place. The arrangement of the
property (which is in New York) is determined by an existing woodland to
the left or southeast of the house and a natural opening to the
southwest of the house. The house is colonial, and the entire treatment
is one of considerable simplicity. Wild or woodland gardens have been
developed to the right and left of the entrance, the latter or entrance
lawns being left severely simple and plain in their treatment. To the
rear of the house a turf terrace raised three steps above the general
grade of the lawn leads to a general lawn terminated by a small garden
exedra or teahouse with a fountain in its center, and to two shrub
gardens forming interesting and closed pockets of lawn. The stable and
vegetable gardens are located to the south of the house in a natural
opening in the woodland. The design is made by a professional landscape

One cannot expect satisfaction in the planting and developing of a home
area unless he has a clear conception of what is to be done. This
necessarily follows, since the pleasure that one derives from any
enterprise depends chiefly on the definiteness of his ideals and his
ability to develop them. The homemaker should develop his plan before
he attempts to develop his place. He must study the various subdivisions
in order that the premises may meet all his needs. He should determine
the locations of the leading features of the place and the relative
importance to be given to the various parts of it,--as of the landscape
parts, the ornamental areas, the vegetable-garden, and the fruit

The details of the planting may be determined in part as the place
develops; it is only the structural features and purposes that need to
be determined beforehand in most small properties. The incidental
modifications that may be made in the planting from time to time keep
the interest alive and allow the planter to gratify his desire to
experiment with new plants and new methods.

It must be understood that I am now speaking of ordinary home grounds
which the home-maker desires to improve by himself. If the area is large
enough to present distinct landscape features, it is always best to
employ a landscape architect of recognized merit, in the same spirit
that one would employ an architect. The details, however, may even then
be filled in by the owner, if he is so inclined, following out the plan
that the landscape architect makes.

It is desirable to have a definite plan on paper (drawn to scale) for
the location of the leading features of the place. These features are
the residence, the out-houses, the walks and drives, the service areas
(as clothes yards), the border planting, flower-garden,
vegetable-garden, and fruit-garden. It should not be expected that the
map plan can be followed in every detail, but it will serve as a general
guide; and if it is made on a large enough scale, the different kinds of
plants can be located in their proper positions, and a record of the
place be kept. It is nearly always unsatisfactory, for both owner and
designer, if a plan of the place is made without a personal inspection
of the area. Lines that look well on a map may not adjust themselves
readily to the varying contours of the place itself, and the location of
the features inside the grounds will depend also in a very large measure
on the objects that lie outside it. For example, all interesting and
bold views should be brought into the place, and all unsightly objects
in the immediate vicinity should be planted out.

[Illustration: Fig. 2. Diagram of a back yard.]

A plan of a back yard of a narrow city lot is given in Fig. 2, showing
the heavy border planting of trees and shrubs, with the skirting border
of flowers. In the front are two large trees, that are desired for
shade. It will readily be seen from this plan how extensive the area for
flowers becomes when they are placed along such a devious border. More
color effect can be got from such an arrangement of the flowers than
could be secured if the whole area were planted to flower-beds.

[Illustration: Fig. 3. Plan of a rough area.]

A contour map plan of a very rough piece of ground is shown in Fig. 3.
The sides of the place are high, and it becomes necessary to carry a
walk through the middle area; and on either side of the front, it skirts
the banks. Such a plan is usually unsightly on paper, but may
nevertheless fit special cases very well. The plan is inserted here for
the purpose of illustrating the fact that a plan that will work on the
ground does not necessarily work on a map.

In charting a place, it is important to locate the points from which the
walks are to start, and at which they are to emerge from the grounds.
These two points are then joined by direct and simple curves; and
alongside the walks, especially in angles or bold curves, planting may
be inserted.

A suggestion for school premises on a four-corners, and which the pupils
enter from three directions, is made in Fig. 4. The two playgrounds are
separated by a broken group of bushes extending from the building to the
rear boundary; but, in general, the spaces are kept open, and the heavy
border-masses clothe the place and make it home-like. The lineal extent
of the group margins is astonishingly large, and along all these margins
flowers may be planted, if desired.

[Illustration: Fig. 4. Suggestion for a school-ground on a

If there is only six feet between a schoolhouse and the fence, there is
still room for a border of shrubs. This border should be between the
walk and the fence,--on the very boundary,--not between the walk and the
building, for in the latter case the planting divides the premises and
weakens the effect. A space two feet wide will allow of an irregular
wall of bushes, if tall buildings do not cut out the light; and if the
area is one hundred feet long, thirty to fifty kinds of shrubs and
flowers can be grown to perfection, and the school-grounds will be
practically no smaller for the plantation.

One cannot make a plan of a place until he knows what he wants to do
with the property; and therefore we may devote the remainder of this
chapter to developing the idea in the layout of the premises rather than
to the details of map-making and planting.

Because I speak of the free treatment of garden spaces in this book it
must not be inferred that any reflection is intended on the "formal"
garden. There are many places in which the formal or "architect's
garden" is much to be desired; but each of these cases should be treated
wholly by itself and be made a part of the architectural setting of the
place. These questions are outside the sphere of this book. All formal
gardens are properly individual studies.

All very special types of garden design are naturally excluded from a
book of this kind, such types, for example, as Japanese gardening.
Persons who desire to develop these specialties will secure the services
of persons who are skilled in them; and there are also books and
magazine articles to which they may go.

* * * * *

_The picture in the landscape._

The deficiency in most home grounds is not so much that there is too
little planting of trees and shrubs as that this planting is
meaningless. Every yard should be a picture. That is, the area should be
set off from other areas, and it should have such a character that the
observer catches its entire effect and purpose without stopping to
analyze its parts. The yard should be one thing, one area, with every
feature contributing its part to one strong and homogeneous effect.

These remarks will become concrete if the reader turns his eye to Figs.
5 and 6. The former represents a common type of planting of front yards.
The bushes and trees are scattered promiscuously over the area. Such a
yard has no purpose, no central idea. It shows plainly that the planter
had no constructive conception, no grasp of any design, and no
appreciation of the fundamental elements of the beauty of landscape.
Its only merit is the fact that trees and shrubs have been planted; and
this, to most minds, comprises the essence and sum of the ornamentation
of grounds. Every tree and bush is an individual alone, unattended,
disconnected from its environments, and, therefore, meaningless. Such a
yard is only a nursery.

[Illustration: Fig 5. The common or nursery way of planting]

[Illustration: Fig. 6. The proper or pictorial type of planting]

The other plan (Fig. 6) is a picture. The eye catches its meaning at
once. The central idea is the residence, with a free and open greensward
in front of it The same trees and bushes that were scattered haphazard
over Fig. 5 are massed into a framework to give effectiveness to the
picture of home and comfort. This style of planting makes a landscape,
even though the area be no larger than a parlor. The other style is only
a collection of curious plants. The one has an instant and abiding
pictorial effect, which is restful and satisfying: the observer
exclaims, "What a beautiful home this is!" The other piques one's
curiosity, obscures the residence, divides and distracts the attention:
the observer exclaims, "What excellent lilac bushes are these!"

An inquiry into the causes of the unlike impressions that one receives
from a given landscape and from a painting of it explains the subject
admirably. One reason why the picture appeals to us more than the
landscape is because the picture is condensed, and the mind becomes
acquainted with its entire purpose at once, while the landscape is so
broad that the individual objects at first fix the attention, and it is
only by a process of synthesis that the unity of the landscape finally
becomes apparent. This is admirably illustrated in photographs. One of
the first surprises that the novice experiences in the use of the camera
is the discovery that very tame scenes become interesting and often even
spirited in the photograph. But there is something more than mere
condensation in this vitalizing and beautifying effect of the photograph
or the painting: individual objects are so much reduced that they no
longer appeal to us as distinct subjects, and however uncouth they may
be in the reality, they make no impression in the picture; the thin and
sere sward may appear rather like a closely shaven lawn or a new-mown
meadow. And again, the picture sets a limit to the scene; it frames it,
and thereby cuts off all extraneous and confusing or irrelevant

These remarks are illustrated in the aesthetics of landscape gardening.
It is the artist's one desire to make pictures in the landscape. This is
done in two ways: by the form of plantations, and by the use of vistas.
He will throw his plantations into such positions that open and yet more
or less confined areas of greensward are presented to the observer at
various points. This picture-like opening is nearly or quite devoid of
small or individual objects, which usually destroy the unity of such
areas and are meaningless in themselves. A vista is a narrow opening or
view between plantations to a distant landscape. It cuts up the broad
horizon into portions that are readily cognizable. It frames parts of
the country-side. The verdurous sides of the planting are the sides of
the frame; the foreground is the bottom, and the sky is the top. It is
of the utmost importance that good views be left or secured from the
best windows of the house (not forgetting the kitchen window); in fact,
the placing of the house may often be determined by the views that may
be appropriated.

If a landscape is a picture, it must have a canvas. This canvas is the
greensward. Upon this, the artist paints with tree and bush and flower
as the painter does upon his canvas with brush and pigments. The
opportunity for artistic composition and design is nowhere so great as
in the landscape garden, because no other art has such a limitless field
for the expression of its emotions. It is not strange, if this be true,
that there have been few great landscape gardeners, and that, falling
short of art, the landscape gardener too often works in the sphere of
the artisan. There can be no rules for landscape gardening, any more
than there can be for painting or sculpture. The operator may be taught
how to hold the brush or strike the chisel or plant the tree, but he
remains an operator; the art is intellectual and emotional and will not
confine itself in precepts.

The making of a good and spacious lawn, then, is the very first
practical consideration in a landscape garden.

The lawn provided, the gardener conceives what is the dominant and
central feature in the place, and then throws the entire premises into
subordination to this feature. In home grounds this central feature is
the house. To scatter trees and bushes over the area defeats the
fundamental purpose of the place,--the purpose to make every part of
the grounds lead up to the home and to accentuate its homelikeness.

A house must have a background if it is to become a home. A house that
stands on a bare plain or hill is a part of the universe, not a part of
a home. Recall the cozy little farm-house that is backed by a wood or an
orchard; then compare some pretentious structure that stands apart from
all planting. Yet how many are the farm-houses that stand as stark and
cold against the sky as if they were competing with the moon! We would
not believe it possible for a man to live in a house twenty-five years
and not, by accident, allow some tree to grow, were it not that it
is so!

Of course these remarks about the lawn are meant for those countries
where greensward is the natural ground cover. In the South and in arid
countries, greensward is not the prevailing feature of the landscape,
and in these regions the landscape design may take on a wholly different
character, if the work is to be nature-like. We have not yet developed
other conceptions of landscape work to any perfect extent, and we inject
the English greensward treatment even into deserts. We may look for the
time when a brown landscape garden may be made in a brown country, and
it may be good art not to attempt a broad open center in regions in
which undergrowth rather than sod is the natural ground cover. In parts
of the United States we are developing a good Spanish-American
architecture, perhaps we may develop a recognized comparable landscape
treatment as an artistic expression.

[Illustration: Fig. 7 A house]

* * * * *

_Birds, and cats_

The picture in the landscape is not complete without birds, and the
birds should comprise more species than English sparrows. If one is to
have birds on his premises, he must (1) attract them and (2)
protect them.

One attracts birds by providing places in which they may nest. The free
border plantings have distinct advantages in attracting chipping
sparrows, catbirds, and other species. The bluebirds, house wrens, and
martins may be attracted by boxes in which they can build.

One may attract birds by feeding them and supplying water. Suet for
woodpeckers and others, grain and crumbs for other kinds, and taking
care not to frighten or molest them, will soon win the confidence of the
birds. A slowly running or dripping fountain, with a good rim on which
they may perch, will also attract them, and it is no mean enjoyment to
watch the birds at bathing. Or, if one does not care to go to the
expense of a bird fountain, he may supply their wants by means of a
shallow dish of water set on the lawn.

[Illustration: Fig. 8 A home]

The birds will need protection from cats. There is no more reason why
cats should roam at will and uncontrolled than that dogs or horses or
poultry should be allowed unlimited license. A cat away from home is a
trespasser and should be so treated. A person has no more right to
inflict a cat on a neighborhood than to inflict a goat or rabbits or any
other nuisance. All persons who keep cats should feel the same
responsibility for them that they feel for other property; and they
should be willing to forfeit their property right when they forfeit
their control. The cats not only destroy birds, but they break the
peace. The caterwauling at night will not be permitted in well-governed
communities any more than the shooting of fire-arms or vicious talking
will be allowed: all night-roaming cats should be gathered in, just as
stray dogs and tramps are provided for.

I do not dislike cats, but I desire to see them kept at home and within
control. If persons say that they cannot keep them on their own
premises, then these persons should not be allowed to have them. A bell
on the cat will prevent it from capturing old birds, and this may answer
a good purpose late in the season; but it will not stop the robbing of
nests or the taking of young birds, and here is where the greatest havoc
is wrought.

It is often asserted that cats must roam in order that rats and mice may
be reduced; but probably few house mice and few rats are got by
wandering cats; and, again, many cats are not mousers. There are other
ways of controlling rats and mice; or if cats are employed for this
purpose, see that they are restricted to the places where the house rats
and mice are to be found.

Many persons like squirrels about the place, but they cannot expect to
have both birds and squirrels unless very special precautions are taken.

The English or house sparrow drives away the native birds, although he
is himself an attractive inhabitant in winter, particularly where native
birds are not resident. The English sparrow should be kept in reduced
numbers. This can be easily accomplished by poisoning them in winter
(when other birds are not endangered) with wheat soaked in strychnine
water. The contents of one of the eighth-ounce vials of strychnine that
may be secured at a drug store is added to sufficient water to cover a
quart of wheat. Let the wheat stand in the poison water twenty-four to
forty-eight hours (but not long enough for the grains to sprout), then
dry the wheat thoroughly. It cannot be distinguished from ordinary
wheat, and sparrows usually eat it freely, particularly if they are in
the habit of eating scattered grain and crumbs. Of course, the greatest
caution must be exercised that in the use of such highly poisonous
materials, accidents do not occur with other animals or with
human beings.

* * * * *

_The planting is part of the design or picture._

If the reader catches the full meaning of these pages, he has acquired
some of the primary conceptions in landscape gardening. The suggestion
will grow upon him day by day; and if he is of an observing turn of
mind, he will find that this simple lesson will revolutionize his habit
of thought respecting the planting of grounds and the beauty of
landscapes. He will see that a bush or flower-bed that is no part of any
general purpose or design--that is, which does not contribute to the
making of a picture--might better never have been planted. For myself, I
would rather have a bare and open pasture than such a yard as that shown
in Fig. 9, even though it contained the choicest plants of every land.
The pasture would at least be plain and restful and unpretentious; but
the yard would be full of effort and fidget.

Reduced to a single expression, all this means that the greatest
artistic value in planting lies in the effect of the mass, and not in
the individual plant. A mass has the greater value because it presents a
much greater range and variety of forms, colors, shades, and textures,
because it has sufficient extent or dimensions to add structural
character to a place, and because its features are so continuous and so
well blended that the mind is not distracted by incidental and
irrelevant ideas. Two pictures will illustrate all this. Figures 10, 11
are pictures of natural copses. The former stretches along a field and
makes a lawn of a bit of meadow which lies in front of it. The landscape
has become so small and so well defined by this bank of verdure that it
has a familiar and personal feeling. The great, bare, open meadows are
too ill-defined and too extended to give any domestic feeling; but here
is a part of the meadow set off into an area that one can compass with
his affections.

[Illustration: Fig. 10 A native fence-row]

[Ilustration: Fig. 11 Birds build their nests here]

[Illustration: Fig. 12. A free-and-easy planting of things wild and

These masses in Figs. 10, 11, and 12 have their own intrinsic merits, as
well as their office in defining a bit of nature. One is attracted by
the freedom of arrangement, the irregularity of sky-line, the bold
bays and promontories, and the infinite play of light and shade. The
observer is interested in each because it has character, or features,
that no other mass in all the world possesses. He knows that the birds
build their nests in the tangle and the rabbits find it a covert.

[Illustration: Fig. 13. An open treatment of a school-ground. More trees
might be placed in the area, if desired.]

Now let the reader turn to Fig. 9, which is a picture of an "improved"
city yard. Here there is no structural outline to the planting, no
defining of the area, no continuous flow of the form and color. Every
bush is what every other one is or may be, and there are hundreds like
them in the same town. The birds shun them. Only the bugs find any
happiness in them. The place has no fundamental design or idea, no lawn
upon which a picture may be constructed. This yard is like a sentence or
a conversation in which every word is equally emphasized.

In bold contrast with this yard is the open-center treatment in Fig. 13.
Here there is pictorial effect; and there is opportunity along the
borders to distribute trees and shrubs that may be desired as individual

The motive that shears the trees also razes the copse, in order that the
gardener or "improver" may show his art. Compare Figs. 14 and 15. Many
persons seem to fear that they will never be known to the world unless
they expend a great amount of muscle or do something emphatic or
spectacular; and their fears are usually well founded.

[Illustration: Fig. 14. A rill much as nature made it.]

[Illustration: Fig. 15. A rill "improved," so that it will not look
"ragged" and unkempt.]

It is not enough that trees and bushes be planted in masses. They must
be kept in masses by letting them grow freely in a natural way. The
pruning-knife is the most inveterate enemy of shrubbery. Pictures 16 and
17 illustrate what I mean. The former represents a good group of bushes
so far as arrangement is concerned; but it has been ruined by the
shears. The attention of the observer is instantly arrested by the
individual bushes. Instead of one free and expressive object, there are
several stiff and expressionless ones. If the observer stops to
consider his own thoughts when he comes upon such a collection, he will
likely find himself counting the bushes; or, at least, he will be making
mental comparisons of the various bushes, and wondering why they are not
all sheared to be exactly alike. Figure 17 shows how the same "artist"
has treated two deutzias and a juniper. Much the same effect could have
been secured, and with much less trouble, by laying two flour barrels
end to end and standing a third one between them.

[Illustration: 16. The making of a good group, but spoiled by the
pruning shears.]

[Illustration: 17. The three guardsmen.]

I must hasten to say that I have not the slightest objection to the
shearing of trees. The only trouble is in calling the practice art and
in putting the trees where people must see them (unless they are part of
a recognized formal-garden design). If the operator simply calls the
business shearing, and puts the things where he and others who like them
may see them, objection could not be raised. Some persons like painted
stones, others iron bulldogs in the front yard and the word "welcome"
worked into the door-mat, and others like barbered trees. So long as
these likes are purely personal, it would seem to be better taste to put
such curiosities in the back yard, where the owner may admire them
without molestation.

[Illustration: Fig. 18 A bit of semi-rustic work built into a native

There is a persistent desire among workmen to shear and to trim: it
displays their industry. It is a great thing to be able to allow the
freedom of nature to remain. The artist often builds his structures into
a native planting (as in Fig. 18) rather than to trust himself to
produce a good result by planting on razed surfaces.

In this discussion, I have tried to enforce the importance of the open
center in non-formal home grounds in greensward regions. Of course this
does not mean that there may not be central planting in particular cases
where the conditions distinctly call for it nor that there may not be
trees on the lawn. If one has the placing of the trees, he may see that
they are not scattered aimlessly; but if good trees are already growing
on the place, it would be folly to think of removing them merely because
they are not in the best ideal positions; in such case, it may be very
necessary to adapt the treatment of the area to the trees. The
home-maker should always consider, also, the planting of a few trees in
such places as to shade and protect the residence: the more closely they
can be made a part of the general design or handling of the place, the
better the results will be.

* * * * *

_The flower-growing should be part of the design._

I do not mean to discourage the use of brilliant flowers and bright
foliage and striking forms of vegetation; but these things are never
primary considerations in a good domain. The structural elements of the
place are designed first. The flanking and bordering masses are then
planted. Finally the flowers and accessories are put in, as a house is
painted after it is built. Flowers appear to best advantage when seen
against a background of foliage, and they are then, also, an integral
part of the picture. The flower-garden, as such, should be at the rear
or side of a place, as all other personal appurtenances are; but flowers
and bright leaves may be freely scattered along the borders and near the
foliage masses.

It is a common saying that many persons have no love or appreciation of
flowers, but it is probably nearer to the truth to say that no person is
wholly lacking in this respect. Even those persons who declare that they
care nothing for flowers are generally deceived by their dislike of
flower-beds and the conventional methods of flower-growing. I know many
persons who stoutly deny any liking for flowers, but who, nevertheless,
are rejoiced with the blossoming of the orchards and the purpling of the
clover fields. The fault may not lie so much with the persons themselves
as with the methods of growing and displaying the flowers.

Defects in flower-growing.

The greatest defect with our flower-growing is the stinginess of it. We
grow our flowers as if they were the choicest rarities, to be coddled in
a hotbed or under a bell-jar, and then to be exhibited as single
specimens in some little pinched and ridiculous hole cut in the turf, or
perched upon an ant-hill that some gardener has laboriously heaped oh a
lawn. Nature, on the other hand, grows many of her flowers in the most
luxurious abandon, and one can pick an armful without offense. She grows
her flowers in earnest, as a man grows a crop of corn. One can revel in
the color and the fragrance and be satisfied.

The next defect with our flower-growing is the flower-bed. Nature has no
time to make flower-bed designs: she is busy growing flowers. And, then,
if she were given to flower-beds, the whole effect would be lost, for
she could no longer be luxurious and wanton, and if a flower were picked
her whole scheme might be upset. Imagine a geranium-bed or a coleus-bed,
with its wonderful "design," set out into a wood or in a free and open
landscape! Even the birds would laugh at it!

What I want to say is that we should grow flowers freely when we make a
flower-garden. We should have enough of them to make the effort worth
the while. I sympathize with the man who likes sunflowers. There are
enough of them to be worth looking at. They fill the eye. Now show this
man ten feet square of pinks or asters, or daisies, all growing free and
easy and he will tell you that he likes them. All this has a particular
application to the farmer, who is often said to dislike flowers. He
grows potatoes and buckwheat and weeds by the acre: two or three unhappy
pinks or geraniums are not enough to make an impression.

Lawn flower-beds.

The easiest way to spoil a good lawn is to put a flower-bed in it; and
the most effective way in which to show off flowers to the least
advantage is to plant them in a bed in the greensward. Flowers need a
background. We do not hang our pictures on fence-posts. If flowers are
to be grown on a lawn, let them be of the hardy kind, which can be
naturalized in the sod and which grow freely in the tall unmown grass;
or else perennials of such nature that they make attractive clumps by
themselves. Lawns should be free and generous, but the more they are cut
up and worried with trivial effects, the smaller and meaner they look.

[Illustration: Fig. 19 Hole-in-the-ground gardening]

But even if we consider these lawn flower-beds wholly apart from their
surroundings, we must admit that they are at best unsatisfactory. It
generally amounts to this, that we have four months of sparse and
downcast vegetation, one month of limp and frost-bitten plants, and
seven months of bare earth (Fig 19) I am not now opposing the
carpet-beds which professional gardeners make in parks and other
museums. I like museums, and some of the carpet-beds and set pieces are
"fearfully and wonderfully made" (see Fig 20) I am directing my remarks
to those humble home-made flower-beds that are so common in lawns of
country and city homes alike. These beds are cut from the good fresh
turf, often in the most fantastic designs, and are filled with such
plants as the women of the place may be able to carry over in cellars or
in the window. The plants themselves may look very well in pots, but
when they are turned out of doors, they have a sorry time for a month
adapting themselves to the sun and winds, and it is generally well on
towards midsummer before they begin to cover the earth. During all these
weeks they have demanded more time and labor than would have been
needed to care for a plantation of much greater size and which would
have given flowers every day from the time the birds began to nest in
the spring until the last robin had flown in November.

[Illustration: 20. Worth paying admittance price to see!]


We should acquire the habit of speaking of the flower-border. The border
planting of which we have spoken sets bounds to the place, and makes it
one's own. The person lives inside his place, not on it. Along these
borders, against groups, often by the corners of the residence or in
front of porches--these are places for flowers. Ten flowers against a
background are more effective than a hundred in the open yard.

[Illustration: Fig. 21 An artist's flower border]

I have asked a professional artist, Mr. Mathews, to draw me the kind of a
flower-bed that he likes. It is shown in Fig. 21. It is a border,--a
strip of land two or three feet wide along a fence. This is the place
where pigweeds usually grow. Here he has planted marigolds, gladiolus,
golden rod, wild asters, China asters, and--best of all--hollyhocks. Any
one would like that flower-garden It has some of that local and
indefinable charm that always attaches to an "old-fashioned garden"
with its medley of form and color Nearly every yard has some such strip
of land along a rear walk or fence or against a building It is the
easiest thing to plant it,--ever so much easier than digging the
characterless geranium bed into the center of an inoffensive lawn. The
suggestions are carried further in 22 to 25.

[Illustration: 22. Petunias against a background of osiers.]

[Illustration: 23. A sowing of flowers along a marginal planting.]

[Illustration: Fig. 24. An open back yard. Flowers may be thrown in
freely along the borders, but they would spoil the lawn if placed in
its center.]

[Illustration: Fig. 25. A flower garden at the rear or one side of the

The old-fashioned garden.

Speaking of the old-fashioned garden recalls one of William Falconer's
excellent paragraphs ("Gardening," November 15, 1897, p. 75): "We tried
it in Schenley Park this year. We needed a handy dumping ground, and hit
on the head of a deep ravine between two woods; into it we dumped
hundreds upon hundreds of wagon loads of rock and clay, filling it near
to the top, then surfaced it with good soil. Here we planted some
shrubs, and broadcast among them set out scarlet poppies,
eschscholtzias, dwarf nasturtiums, snapdragons, pansies, marigolds, and
all manner of hardy herbaceous plants, having enough of each sort to
make a mass of its kind and color, and the effect was fine. In the
middle was a plantation of hundreds of clumps of Japan and German irises
interplanted, thence succeeded by thousands of gladioli, and banded with
montbretias, from which we had flowers till frost. The steep face of
this hill was graded a little and a series of winding stone steps set
into it, making the descent into the hollow quite easy; the stones were
the rough uneven slabs secured in blasting the rocks when grading in
other parts of the park, and both along outer edges of the steps and the
sides of the upper walk a wide belt of moss pink was planted; and the
banks all about were planted with shrubs, vines, wild roses, columbines,
and other plants. More cameras and kodaks were leveled by visitors at
this piece of gardening than at any other spot in the park, and still we
had acres of painted summer beds."

Contents of the flower-borders.

There is no prescribed rule as to what one should put into these
informal flower-borders. Put in them the plants you like. Perhaps the
greater part of them should be perennials that come up of themselves
every spring, and that are hardy and reliable. Wild flowers are
particularly effective. Every one knows that many of the native herbs
of woods and glades are more attractive than some of the most prized
garden flowers. The greater part of these native flowers grow readily in
cultivation, sometimes even in places which, in soil and exposure, are
much unlike their native haunts. Many of them make thickened roots, and
they may be safely transplanted at any time after the flowers have
passed. To most persons the wild flowers are less known than many
exotics that have smaller merit, and the extension of cultivation is
constantly tending to annihilate them. Here, then, in the informal
flower-border, is an opportunity to rescue them. Then one may sow in
freely of easy-growing annuals, as marigolds, China asters, petunias and
phloxes, and sweet peas.

One of the advantages of these borders lying at the boundary is that
they are always ready to receive more plants, unless they are full. That
is, their symmetry is not marred if some plants are pulled out and
others are put in. And if the weeds now and then get a start, very
little harm is done. Such a border half full of weeds is handsomer than
the average hole-in-the-lawn geranium bed. An ample border may receive
wild plants every month in the year when the frost is out of the ground.
Plants are dug in the woods or fields, whenever one is on an excursion,
even if in July. The tops are cut off, the roots kept moist until they
are placed in the border; most of these much-abused plants will grow. To
be sure, one will secure some weeds; but then, the weeds are a part of
the collection! Of course, some plants will resent this treatment, but
the border may be a happy family, and be all the better and more
personal because it is the result of moments of relaxation. Such a
border has something new and interesting every month of the growing
season; and even in the winter the tall clumps of grasses and
aster-stems hold their banners above the snow and are a source of
delight to every frolicsome bevy of snowbirds.

I have spoken of a weedland to suggest how simple and easy a thing it
is to make an attractive mass-plantation. One may make the most of a
rock (Fig. 26) or bank, or other undesirable feature of the place. Dig
up the ground and make it rich, and then set plants in it. You will not
get it to suit you the first year, and perhaps not the second or the
third; you can always pull out plants and put more in. I should not want
a lawn-garden so perfect that I could not change it in some character
each year; I should lose interest in it.

[Illustration: 26. Making the most of a rock.]

It must not be understood that I am speaking only for mixed borders. On
the contrary, it is much better in most cases that each border or bed be
dominated by the expression of one kind of flower or bush. In one place
a person may desire a wild aster effect, or a petunia effect, or a
larkspur effect, or a rhododendron effect; or it may be desirable to run
heavily to strong foliage effects in one direction and to light flower
effects in another. The mixed border is rather more a flower-garden idea
than a landscape idea; when it shall be desirable to emphasize the one
and when the other, cannot be set down in a book.

_The value of plants may lie in foliage and form rather than in bloom._

What kinds of shrubs and flowers to plant is a wholly secondary and
largely a personal consideration. The main plantings are made up of
hardy and vigorous species; then the things that you like are added.
There is endless choice in the species, but the arrangement or
disposition of the plants is far more important than the kinds; and the
foliage and form of the plant are usually of more importance than
its bloom.

The appreciation of foliage effects in the landscape is a higher type of
feeling than the desire for mere color. Flowers are transitory, but
foliage and plant forms are abiding. The common roses have very little
value for landscape planting because the foliage and habit of the
rose-bush are not attractive, the leaves are inveterately attacked by
bugs, and the blossoms are fleeting. Some of the wild roses and the
Japanese _Rosa rugosa,_ however, have distinct merit for mass effects.

Even the common flowers, as marigold, zinnias, and gaillardias, are
interesting as plant forms long before they come into bloom. To many
persons the most satisfying epoch in the garden is that preceding the
bloom, for the habits and stature of the plants are then unobscured. The
early stages of lilies, daffodils, and all perennials are most
interesting; and one never appreciates a garden until he realizes that
this is so.

[Illustration: 27. The plant-form in a perennial salvia.]

Now let the reader, with these suggestions in mind, observe for one week
the plant-forms in the humble herbs that he meets, whether these herbs
are strong garden plants or the striking sculpturing of mulleins,
burdocks, and jimson-weed. Figures 27 to 31 will be suggestive.

[Illustration: 28. Funkia, or day-lily. Where lies the chief
interest,--in the plant-form or in the bloom?]

[Illustration: 29. A large-leaved nicotiana.]

[Illustration: 30. The awkward century plant that has been laboriously
carried over winter year by year in the cellar: compare with other
plants here shown as to its value as a lawn subject.]

Wild bushes are nearly always attractive in form and habit when planted
in borders and groups. They improve in appearance under cultivation
because they are given a better chance to grow. In wild nature there is
such fierce struggle for existence that plants usually grow to few or
single stems, and they are sparse and scraggly in form; but once given
all the room they want and a good soil, they become luxurious, full, and
comely. In most home grounds in the country the body of the planting may
be very effectively composed of bushes taken from the adjacent woods and
fields. The masses may then be enlivened by the addition here and there
of cultivated bushes, and the planting of flowers and herbs about the
borders. It is not essential that one know the names of these wild
bushes, although a knowledge of their botanical kinships will add
greatly to the pleasure of growing them. Neither will they look common
when transferred to the lawn. There are not many persons who know even
the commonest wild bushes intimately, and the things change so much in
looks when removed to rich ground that few home-makers recognize them.

[Illustration: Fig. 31. Making a picture with rhubarb.]

Odd and formal trees.

It is but a corollary of this discussion to say that plants which are
simply odd or grotesque or unusual should be used with the greatest
caution, for they introduce extraneous and jarring effects. They are
little in sympathy with a landscape garden. An artist would not care to
paint an evergreen that is sheared into some grotesque shape. It is only
curious, and shows what a man with plenty of time and long pruning
shears can accomplish. A weeping tree (particularly of a small-growing
species) is usually seen to best advantage when it stands against a
group or mass of foliage (Fig. 32), as a promontory, adding zest and
spirit to the border; it then has relation with the place.

[Illustration: Fig 32. A weeping tree at one side of the grounds and
supported by a background.]

This leads me to speak of the planting of the Lombardy poplar, which may
be taken as a type of the formal tree, and as an illustration of what I
mean to express. Its chief merits to the average planter are the
quickness of its growth and the readiness with which it multiplies by
sprouts. But in the North it is likely to be a short-lived tree, it
suffers from storms, and it has few really useful qualities. It may be
used to some advantage in windbreaks for peach orchards and other
short-lived plantations; but after a few years a screen of Lombardies
begins to fail, and the habit of suckering from the root adds to its
undesirable features. For shade it has little merit, and for timber
none. Persons like it because it is striking, and this, in an artistic
sense, is its gravest fault. It is unlike anything else in our
landscape, and does not fit into our scenery well. A row of Lombardies
along a roadside is like a row of exclamation points!

[Illustration: IV. Subtropical bedding against a building. Caladiums,
cannas, abutilons, permanent rhododendrons, and other large stuff, with
tuberous begonias and balsams between.]

But the Lombardy can often be used to good effect as one factor in a
group of trees, where its spire-like shape, towering above the
surrounding foliage, may lend a spirited charm to the landscape. It
combines well in such groups if it stands in visual nearness to chimneys
or other tall formal objects. Then it gives a sort of architectural
finish and spirit to a group; but the effect is generally lessened, if
not altogether spoiled, in small places, if more than one Lombardy is in
view. One or two specimens may often be used to give vigor to heavy
plantations about low buildings, and the effect is generally best if
they are seen beyond or at the rear of the building. Note the use that
the artist has made of them in the backgrounds in Figs. 12, 13, and 43.

Poplars and the like.

Another defect in common ornamental planting, which is well illustrated
in the use of poplars, is the desire for plants merely because they grow
rapidly. A very rapid-growing tree nearly always produces cheap effects.
This is well illustrated in the common planting of willows and poplars
about summer places or lake shores. Their effect is almost wholly one of
thinness and temporariness. There is little that suggests strength or
durability in willows and poplars, and for this reason they should
usually be employed as minor or secondary features in ornamental or home
grounds. When quick results are desired, nothing is better to plant
than these trees; but better trees, as maples, oaks, or elms, should be
planted with them, and the poplars and willows should be removed as
rapidly as the other species begin to afford protection. When the
plantation finally assumes its permanent characters, a few of the
remaining poplars and willows, judiciously left, may afford very
excellent effects; but no one who has an artist's feeling would be
content to construct the framework of his place of these rapid-growing
and soft-wooded trees.

[Illustration: Fig. 33. A spring expression worth securing. Catkins of
the small poplar.]

I have said that the legitimate use of poplars in ornamental grounds is
in the production of minor or secondary effects. As a rule, they are
less adapted to isolated planting as specimen trees than to using in
composition,--that is, as parts of general groups of trees, where their
characters serve to break the monotony of heavier forms and heavier
foliage. The poplars are gay trees, as a rule, especially those, like
the aspens, that have a trembling foliage. Their leaves are bright and
the tree-tops are thin. The common aspen or "popple," _Populus
tremuloides,_ of our woods, is a meritorious little tree for certain
effects. Its dangling catkins (Fig. 33), light, dancing foliage, and
silver-gray limbs, are always cheering, and its autumn color is one of
the purest golden-yellows of our landscape. It is good to see a tree of
it standing out in front of a group of maples or evergreens.

[Illustration: Fig. 34. Plant-form in cherries.--Reine Hortense.]


Before one attains to great sensitiveness in the appreciation of
gardens, he learns to distinguish plants by their forms. This is
particularly true for trees and shrubs. Each species has its own
"expression," which is determined by the size that is natural to it,
mode of branching, form of top, twig characters, bark characters,
foliage characters, and to some extent its flower and fruit characters.
It is a useful practice for one to train his eye by learning the
difference in expression of the trees of different varieties of cherries
or pears or apples or other fruits, if he has access to a plantation of
them. The differences in cherries and pears are very marked (Figs.
34-36). He may also contrast and compare carefully the kinds of any
tree or shrub of which there are two or three species in the
neighborhood, learning to distinguish them without close examination; as
the sugar maple, red maple, soft maple, and Norway maple (if it is
planted); the white or American elm, the cork elm, the slippery elm, the
planted European elms; the aspen, large-toothed poplar, cottonwood, balm
of gilead, Carolina poplar, Lombardy poplar; the main species of oaks;
the hickories; and the like.

[Illustration: Fig. 35. Morello cherry.]

It will not be long before the observer learns that many of the tree and
shrub characters are most marked in winter; and he will begin
unconsciously to add the winter to his year.

[Illustration: Fig. 36. May Duke cherry.]

_Various specific examples._

The foregoing remarks will mean more if the reader is shown some
concrete examples. I have chosen a few cases, not because they are the
best, or even because they are always good enough for models, but
because they lie in my way and illustrate what I desire to teach.

A front yard example.

[Illustration: 37. The planting in a simple front yard.]

We will first look at a very ordinary front yard. It contained no
plants, except a pear tree standing near the corner of the house. Four
years later sees the yard as shown in Fig. 37. An exochorda is the large
bush in the very foreground, and the porch foundation is screened and a
border is thereby given to the lawn. The length of this planting from
end to end is about fourteen feet, with a projection towards the front
on the left of ten feet. In the bay at the base of this projection the
planting is only two feet wide or deep, and from here it gradually
swings out to the steps, eight feet wide. The prominent large-leaved
plant near the steps is a bramble, _Rubus odoratus,_ very common in the
neighborhood, and it is a choice plant for decorative planting, when it
is kept under control. The plants in this border in front of the porch
are all from the wild, and comprise a prickly ash, several plants of two
wild osiers or dogwoods, a spice bush, rose, wild sunflowers and asters
and golden-rods. The promontory at the left is a more ambitious but less
effective mass. It contains an exochorda, a reed, variegated elder,
sacaline, variegated dogwood, tansy, and a young tree of wild crab. At
the rear of the plantation, next the house, one sees the pear tree. The
best single part of the planting is the reed (_Arundo Donax_)
overtopping the exochorda. The photograph was taken early in summer,
before the reed had become conspicuous.

[Illustration: Fig. 38. Plan of the planting shown in Fig. 37.]

A ground plan of this planting is shown in Fig. 38. At A is the walk and
B the steps. An opening at D serves as a passage. The main planting, in
front of the porch, fourteen feet long, received twelve plants, some of
which have now spread into large clumps. At 1 is a large bush of osier,
_Cornus Baileyi,_ one of the best red-stemmed bushes. At 2 is a mass of
_Rubus odoratus;_ at 5 asters and golden-rods; at 3 a clump of wild
sunflowers. The projecting planting on the left comprises about ten
plants, of which 4 is exochorda, 6 is arundo or reed, at the back of
which is a large clump of sacaline, and 7 is a variegated-leaved elder.

Another example.

A back yard is shown in Fig. 39. The owner wanted a tennis court, and
the yard is so small as not to allow of wide planting at the borders.
However, something could be done. On the left is a weedland border,
which formed the basis of the discussion of wild plants on page 35. In
the first place, a good lawn was made. In the second place, no walks or
drives were laid in the area. The drive for grocers' wagons and coal is
seen in the rear, ninety feet from the house. From I to J is the
weedland, separating the area from the neighbor's premises. Near I is a
clump of roses. At K is a large bunch of golden-rods. H marks a clump of
yucca. G is a cabin, covered with vines on the front. From G to F is an
irregular border, about six feet wide, containing barberries,
forsythias, wild elder, and other bushes. D E is a screen of Russian
mulberry, setting off the clothes yard from the front lawn. Near the
back porch, at the end of the screen, is an arbor covered with wild
grapes, making a play-house for the children. A clump of lilacs stands
at A. At B is a vine-covered screen, serving as a hammock support. The
lawn made and the planting done, it was next necessary to lay the walks.
These are wholly informal affairs, made by sinking a plank ten inches
wide into the ground to a level with the sod. The border plantings of
this yard are too straight and regular for the most artistic results,
but such was necessary in order not to encroach upon the central space.
Yet the reader will no doubt agree that this yard is much better than it
could be made by any system of scattered and spotted planting. Let him
imagine how a glowing carpet-bed would look set down in the center of
this lawn!

[Illustration: Fig. 39. Diagram of a back-yard planting. 50 x 90 feet.]

[Illustration: Fig. 40. The beginning of a landscape garden.]

A third example.

The making of a landscape picture is well illustrated in Figs. 40, 41.
The former shows a small clay field (seventy-five feet wide, and three
hundred feet deep), with a barn at the rear. In front of the barn is a
screen of willows. The observer is looking from the dwelling-house. The
area has been plowed and seeded for a lawn. The operator has then marked
out a devious line upon either border with a hoe handle, and all the
space between these borders has been gone over with a garden roller to
mark the area of the desired greensward.

The borders are now planted with a variety of small trees, bushes, and
herbs. Five years later the view shown in Fig. 41 was taken.

[Illustration: Fig. 41. The result in five years.]

A small back yard.

A back yard is shown in Fig. 42. It is approximately sixty feet square.
At present it contains a drive, which is unnecessary, expensive to keep
in repair, and destructive of any attempt to make a picture of the area.
The place could be improved by planting it somewhat after the manner
of Fig. 43.

[Illustration: Fig. 42. A meaningless back-yard planting, and an
unnecessary drive.]

[Illustration: Fig. 43. Suggestions for improving Fig. 42.]

A city lot.

A plan of a city lot is given in Fig. 44. The area is fifty by one
hundred, and the house occupies the greater part of the width. It is
level, but the surrounding land is higher, resulting in a sharp terrace,
three or four feet high, on the rear, E D. This terrace vanishes at C on
the right, but extends nearly the whole length of the other side,
gradually diminishing as it approaches A. There is a terrace two feet
high extending from A to B, along the front. Beyond the line E D is the
rear of an establishment which it is desired to hide. Since the terraces
set definite borders to this little place, it is desirable to plant
the boundaries rather heavily. If the adjoining lawns were on the same
level, or if the neighbors would allow one area to be merged into the
other by pleasant slopes, the three yards might be made into one
picture; but the place must remain isolated.

[Illustration: V. A subtropical bed. Center of cannas, with border of
_Pennisetum longistylum_ (a grass) started in late February or
early March.]

There are three problems of structural planting in the place: to provide
a cover or screen at the rear; to provide lower border masses on the
side terraces; to plant next the foundations of the house. Aside from
these problems, the grower is entitled to have a certain number of
specimen plants, if he has particular liking for given types, but these
specimens must be planted in some relation to the structural masses, and
not in the middle of the lawn.

[Illustration: Fig. 44. Present outline of a city back yard, desired to
be planted.]

The owner desired a mixed planting, for variety. The following shrubs
were actually selected and planted. The place is in central New York:--

_Shrubs for the tall background_

2 Barberry, _Berberis vulgaris_ and var. _purpurea._

1 Cornus Mas.

2 Tall deutzias.

3 Lilacs.

2 Mock oranges, _Philadelphus grandiflorus_ and _P. coronarius._

2 Variegated elders.

2 Eleagnus, _Eloeagnus hortensis_ and _E. longipes._

1 Exochorda.

2 Hibiscuses.

1 Privet.

3 Viburnums.

1 Snowball.

1 Tartarian honeysuckle.

1 Silver Bell, _Halesia tetraptera._

These were planted on the sloping bank of the terrace, from E to D. The
terrace has an incline, or width, of about three feet. Figure 45 shows
this terrace after the planting was completed, looking from the point C.

[Illustration: Fig. 45. The planting of the terrace in Fig. 44.]

_Shrubs of medium size, suitable for side plantings and groups in the
foregoing example_

3 Barberries, _Berberis Thunbergii._

3 Osier dogwoods, variegated.

2 Japanese quinces, _Cydonia Japonica_ and _C. Maulei._

4 Tall deutzias.

1 Variegated elder.

7 Weigelas, assorted colors.

1 Rhodotypos.

9 Spireas of medium growth, assorted.

1 Rubus odoratus.

1 Lonicera fragrantissima.

Most of these shrubs were planted in a border two feet wide, extending
from B to C D, the planting beginning about ten feet back from the
street. Some of them were placed on the terrace at the left, extending
from E one-fourth of the distance to A. The plants were set about two
feet apart. A strong clump was placed at N to screen the back yard. In
this back yard a few small fruit trees and a strawberry bed
were planted.

_Low informal shrubs for front of porch and banking against house_

3 Deutzia gracilis.

6 Kerrias, green and variegated.

3 Daphne Mezereum.

3 Lonicera Halliana.

3 Rubus phoenicolasius.

3 Symphoricarpus vulgaris.

4 Mahonias.

1 Ribes aureum.

1 Ribes sanguineum.

1 Rubus crataegifolius.

1 Rubus fruticosus var. laciniatus.

These bushes were planted against the front of the house (a porch on a
high foundation extends to the right from O), from the walk around to P,
and a few of them were placed at the rear of the house.

_Specimen shrubs for mere ornament, for this place_




2 Hydrangeas.

1 Snowball.

1 each Forsythia suspensa and F. viridissima.

2 Flowering almonds.

These were planted in conspicuous places here and there against the
other masses.

Here are one hundred excellent and interesting bushes planted in a yard
only fifty feet wide and one hundred feet deep, and yet the place has as
much room in it as it had before. There is abundant opportunity along
the borders for dropping in cannas, dahlias, hollyhocks, asters,
geraniums, coleuses, and other brilliant plants. The bushes will soon
begin to crowd, to be sure, but a mass is wanted, and the narrowness of
the plantations will allow each bush to develop itself laterally to
perfection. If the borders become too thick, however, it is an easy
matter to remove some of the bushes; but they probably will not. Picture
the color and variety and life in that little yard. And if a pigweed now
and then gets a start in the border, it would do no harm to let it
alone: it belongs there! Then picture the same area filled with
disconnected, spotty, dyspeptic, and unspirited flower-beds and
rose bushes!

[Illustration: Fig. 46. Said to have been planted.]

[Illustration: Fig. 47. An area well filled. Compare Fig. 46.]

Various examples.

Strong and bare foundations should be relieved by heavy planting. Fill
the corners with snow-drifts of foliage. Plant with a free hand, as if
you meant it (compare Figs. 46 and 47). The corner by the steps is a
perennial source of bad temper. The lawn-mower will not touch it, and
the grass has to be cut with a butcher-knife. If nothing else comes to
hand, let a burdock grow in it (Fig. 1).

[Illustration: Fig. 48. The screening of the tennis-screen.]

The tennis-screen may be relieved by a background (Fig. 48), and a clump
of ribbon-grass or something else is out of the way against a post
(Fig. 49).

[Illustration: Fig. 49. At the bottom of the clothes-post.]

Excellent mass effects may be secured by cutting well-established plants
of sumac, ailanthus, basswood, and other strong-growing things, to the
ground each year, for the purpose of securing the stout shoots. Figure
50 will give the hint.

But if one has no area which he can make into a lawn and upon which he
can plant such verdurous masses, what then may he do? Even then there
may be opportunity for a little neat and artistic planting. Even if one
lives in a rented house, he may bring in a bush or an herb from the
woods, and paint a picture with it. Plant it in the corner by the steps,
in front of the porch, at the corner of the house,--almost anywhere
except in the center of the lawn. Make the ground rich, secure a strong
root, and plant it with care; then wait. The little clump will not only
have a beauty and interest of its own, but it may add immensely to the
furniture of the yard.

[Illustration: Fig. 50. Young shoots of ailanthus (and sunflowers for

About these clumps one may plant bulbs of glowing tulips or dainty
snowdrops and lilies-of-the-valley; and these may be followed with
pansies and phlox and other simple folk. Very soon one finds himself
deeply interested in these random and detached pictures, and almost
before he is aware he finds that he has rounded off the corners of the
house, made snug little arbors of wild grapes and clematis, covered the
rear fence and the outhouse with actinidia and bitter-sweet, and has
thrown in dashes of color with hollyhocks, cannas, and lilies, and has
tied the foundations of the buildings to the greensward by low strands
of vines or deft bits of planting. He soon comes to feel that flowers
are most expressive of the best emotions when they are daintily dropped
in here and there against a background of foliage, or else made a
side-piece in the place. There is no limit to the adaptations; Figs. 51
to 58 suggest some of the backyard possibilities.

[Illustration: Fig. 51. A backyard cabin.]

Presently he rebels at the bold, harsh, and impudent designs of some of
the gardeners, and grows into a resourceful love of plant forms and
verdure. He may still like the weeping and cut-leaved and party-colored
trees of the horticulturist, but he sees that their best effects are to
be had when they are planted sparingly, as borders or promontories of
the structural masses.

[Illustration: Fig. 52. A garden path with hedgerows, trellis, and
bench, in formal treatment.]

The best planting, as the best painting and the best music, is possible
only with the best and tenderest feeling and the closest living with
nature. One's place grows to be a reflection of himself, changing as he
changes, and expressing his life and sympathies to the last.


We have now discussed some of the principles and applications of
landscape architecture or landscape gardening, particularly in reference
to the planting. The object of landscape gardening is _to make a
picture._ All the grading, seeding, planting, are incidental and
supplemental to this one central idea. The greensward is the canvas, the
house or some other prominent point is the central figure, the planting
completes the composition and adds the color.

[Illustration: Fig. 53. An enclosure for lawn games.]

The second conception is the principle that _the picture should have a
landscape effect._ That is, it should be nature-like. Carpet-beds are
masses of color, not pictures. They are the little garnishings and
reliefs that are to be used very cautiously, as little eccentricities
and conventionalisms in a building should never be more than very
minor features.

[Illustration: Fig. 54. Sunlight and shadow.]

Every other concept in landscape gardening is subordinate to these two.
Some of the most important of these secondary yet underlying
considerations are as follows:--

The place is to be conceived of as _a unit._ If a building is not
pleasing, ask an architect to improve it. The real architect will study
the building as a whole, grasp its design and meaning, and suggest
improvements that will add to the forcefulness of the entire structure.
A dabbler would add a chimney here, a window there, and apply various
daubs of paint to the building. Each of these features might be good in
itself. The paints might be the best of ochre, ultramarine, or paris
green, but they might have no relation to the building as a whole and
would be only ludicrous. These two examples illustrate the difference
between landscape gardening and the scattering over the place of mere
ornamental features.

[Illustration: Fig. 55. An upland garden, with grass-grown steps,
sundial, and edge of foxgloves.]

[Illustration: Fig. 56. A garden corner.]

There should be _one central and emphatic point in the picture._ A
picture of a battle draws its interest from the action of a central
figure or group. The moment the incidental and lateral figures are made
as prominent as the central figures, the picture loses emphasis, life,

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