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diff --git a/78885-0.txt b/78885-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..eb0f86b --- /dev/null +++ b/78885-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,3279 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 78885 *** + +[Illustration: _In the Garden_] + +[Illustration] + + + + + AN ISLAND GARDEN + + BY CELIA THAXTER + WITH PICTURES AND + ILLUMINATIONS BY + CHILDE HASSAM + + BOSTON AND NEW YORK + HOUGHTON MIFFLIN & CO. + + The Riverside Press, Cambridge + + MDCCCXCV + + + + + Copyright, 1894, + BY HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN & CO. + + _All rights reserved._ + + + _The Riverside Press, Cambridge, Mass., U. S. A._ + Electrotyped and Printed by H. O. Houghton & Company. + + + + + TO + + MRS. MARY HEMENWAY + + “WHOSE LARGENESS OF HEART IS EVEN AS THE + SAND ON THE SEASHORE” + + THIS VOLUME + IS AFFECTIONATELY INSCRIBED + +[Illustration] + + + + +[Illustration] + + +[Illustration] + +At the Isles of Shoals, among the ledges of the largest island, +Appledore, lies the small garden which in the following pages I have +endeavored to describe. Ever since I could remember anything, flowers +have been like dear friends to me, comforters, inspirers, powers to +uplift and to cheer. A lonely child, living on the lighthouse island +ten miles away from the mainland, every blade of grass that sprang out +of the ground, every humblest weed, was precious in my sight, and I +began a little garden when not more than five years old. From this, +year after year, the larger one, which has given so much pleasure +to so many people, has grown. The first small bed at the lighthouse +island contained only Marigolds, pot Marigolds, fire-colored blossoms +which were the joy of my heart and the delight of my eyes. This scrap +of garden, literally not more than a yard square, with its barbaric +splendors of color, I worshiped like any Parsee. When I planted the +dry, brown seeds I noticed how they were shaped, like crescents, with a +fine line of ornamental dots, a “beading” along the whole length of the +centre,--from this crescent sprang the Marigold plant, each of whose +flowers was like + + “a mimic sun, + With ray-like florets round a disk-like face.” + +In my childish mind I pondered much on this fact of the crescent +growing into the full-rayed orb. Many thoughts had I of all the flowers +I knew; very dear were they, so that after I had gathered them I felt +sorry, and I had a safe place between the rocks to which I carried them +when they were withered, and hid them away from all eyes, they were so +precious even then. + +The dear flowers! Summer after summer they return to me, always young +and fresh and beautiful; but so many of the friends who have watched +them and loved them with me are gone, and they return no more. I think +of the lament of Moschus for Bion:-- + +“Ah me, when the Mallows wither in the garden, and the green Parsley, +and the curled tendrils of the Anise, on a later day they spring, in +another year; but we men, we, the great and mighty, or wise, when once +we have died, in hollow earth we sleep, gone down into silence.” + +Into silence! How deep, how unbroken is that silence! But because of +tender memories of loving eyes that see them no more, my flowers are +yet more beloved and tenderly cherished. + +Year after year the island garden has grown in beauty and charm, so +that in response to the many entreaties of strangers as well as friends +who have said to me, summer after summer, “Tell us how you do it! Write +a book about it and tell us how it is done, that we may go also and +do likewise,” I have written this book at last. Truly it contains the +fruit of much sweet and bitter experience. Of what I speak I know, and +of what I know I have freely given. I trust it may help the patient +gardener to a reasonable measure of success, and to that end I have +spared no smallest detail that seemed to me necessary, no suggestion +that might prove helpful. + + + DUST. + + Here is a problem, a wonder for all to see. + Look at this marvelous thing I hold in my hand! + This is a magic surprising, a mystery + Strange as a miracle, harder to understand. + + What is it? Only a handful of earth: to your touch + A dry rough powder you trample beneath your feet, + Dark and lifeless; but think for a moment, how much + It hides and holds that is beautiful, bitter, or sweet. + + Think of the glory of color! The red of the rose, + Green of the myriad leaves and the fields of grass, + Yellow as bright as the sun where the daffodil blows, + Purple where violets nod as the breezes pass. + + Think of the manifold form, of the oak and the vine, + Nut, and fruit, and cluster, and ears of corn; + Of the anchored water-lily, a thing divine, + Unfolding its dazzling snow to the kiss of morn. + + Think of the delicate perfumes borne on the gale, + Of the golden willow catkin’s odor of spring, + Of the breath of the rich narcissus waxen-pale, + Of the sweet pea’s flight of flowers, of the nettle’s sting. + + Strange that this lifeless thing gives vine, flower, tree, + Color and shape and character, fragrance too; + That the timber that builds the house, the ship for the sea, + Out of this powder its strength and its toughness drew! + + That the cocoa among the palms should suck its milk + From this dry dust, while dates from the self-same soil + Summon their sweet rich fruit: that our shining silk + The mulberry leaves should yield to the worm’s slow toil. + + How should the poppy steal sleep from the very source + That grants to the grapevine juice that can madden or cheer? + How does the weed find food for its fabric coarse + Where the lilies proud their blossoms pure uprear? + + Who shall compass or fathom God’s thought profound? + We can but praise, for we may not understand; + But there’s no more beautiful riddle the whole world round + Than is hid in this heap of dust I hold in my hand. + + + + +[Illustration] + + + + + THE LIST OF PICTURES FOR AN ISLAND GARDEN + + + PAGE + + IN THE GARDEN _Frontispiece_ + + Title--POPPY PETALS i + + Headpiece to Preface--MARGARET PINKS v + + Headpiece to List of + Pictures--PANSIES AND ROSE CAMPIONS ix + + Half-Title--NASTURTIUMS 1 + + Headpiece--POPPY TOPS 3 + + FROM THE DOORWAY 10 + + A SHADY SEAT 18 + + Headpiece--HUGELIA CŒRULEA 24 + + THE GARDEN IN ITS GLORY 38 + + Headpiece--SONG-SPARROWS 46 + + LARKSPURS AND LILIES 50 + + HOLLYHOCKS IN LATE SUMMER 60 + + Headpiece--SWEET PEAS 69 + + THE BRIDE 74 + + POPPY BANK IN THE EARLY MORNING 80 + + Headpiece--TEA ROSES 87 + + THE ALTAR AND SHRINE 94 + + A FAVORITE CORNER 100 + + Headpiece--POPPIES GOING TO SEED 105 + + HOME OF THE HUMMING-BIRD 112 + + SUNSET AND THE PINAFORE 124 + + + + + [Illustration] + + AN ISLAND GARDEN + BY CELIA THAXTER + + WITH PAINTINGS BY + CHILDE HASSAM + + + + +[Illustration] + + +Of all the wonderful things in the wonderful universe of God, nothing +seems to me more surprising than the planting of a seed in the blank +earth and the result thereof. Take a Poppy seed, for instance: it lies +in your palm, the merest atom of matter, hardly visible, a speck, a +pin’s point in bulk, but within it is imprisoned a spirit of beauty +ineffable, which will break its bonds and emerge from the dark ground +and blossom in a splendor so dazzling as to baffle all powers of +description. + +The Genie in the Arabian tale is not half so astonishing. In this +tiny casket lie folded roots, stalks, leaves, buds, flowers, +seed-vessels,--surpassing color and beautiful form, all that goes to +make up a plant which is as gigantic in proportion to the bounds that +confine it as the Oak is to the acorn. You may watch this marvel from +beginning to end in a few weeks’ time, and if you realize how great +a marvel it is, you can but be lost in “wonder, love, and praise.” +All seeds are most interesting, whether winged like the Dandelion and +Thistle, to fly on every breeze afar; or barbed to catch in the wool +of cattle or the garments of men, to be borne away and spread in all +directions over the land; or feathered like the little polished silvery +shuttlecocks of the Cornflower, to whirl in the wind abroad and settle +presently, point downward, into the hospitable ground; or oared like +the Maple, to row out upon the viewless tides of the air. But if I were +to pause on the threshold of the year to consider the miracles of seeds +alone, I should never, I fear, reach my garden plot at all! + +He who is born with a silver spoon in his mouth is generally considered +a fortunate person, but his good fortune is small compared to that of +the happy mortal who enters this world with a passion for flowers in +his soul. I use the word advisedly, though it seems a weighty one for +the subject, for I do not mean a light or shallow affection, or even an +æsthetic admiration; no butterfly interest, but a real love which is +worthy of the name, which is capable of the dignity of sacrifice, great +enough to bear discomfort of body and disappointment of spirit, strong +enough to fight a thousand enemies for the thing beloved, with power, +with judgment, with endless patience, and to give with everything else +a subtler stimulus which is more delicate and perhaps more necessary +than all the rest. + +Often I hear people say, “How do you make your plants flourish +like this?” as they admire the little flower patch I cultivate in +summer, or the window gardens that bloom for me in the winter; “I can +never make my plants blossom like this! What is your secret?” And I +answer with one word, “Love.” For that includes all,--the patience +that endures continual trial, the constancy that makes perseverance +possible, the power of foregoing ease of mind and body to minister to +the necessities of the thing beloved, and the subtle bond of sympathy +which is as important, if not more so, than all the rest. For though +I cannot go so far as a witty friend of mine, who says that when he +goes out to sit in the shade on his piazza, his Wistaria vine leans +toward him and lays her head on his shoulder, I am fully and intensely +aware that plants are conscious of love and respond to it as they do +to nothing else. You may give them all they need of food and drink and +make the conditions of their existence as favorable as possible, and +they may grow and bloom, but there is a certain ineffable something +that will be missing if you do not love them, a delicate glory too +spiritual to be caught and put into words. The Norwegians have a pretty +and significant word, “Opelske,” which they use in speaking of the care +of flowers. It means literally “loving up,” or cherishing them into +health and vigor. + +[Illustration: _From the Doorway_] + +Like the musician, the painter, the poet, and the rest, the true lover +of flowers is born, not made. And he is born to happiness in this vale +of tears, to a certain amount of the purest joy that earth can give her +children, joy that is tranquil, innocent, uplifting, unfailing. Given +a little patch of ground, with time to take care of it, with tools to +work it and seeds to plant in it, he has all he needs, and Nature with +her dews and suns and showers and sweet airs gives him her aid. But +he soon learns that it is not only liberty of which eternal vigilance +is the price; the saying applies quite as truly to the culture of +flowers, for the name of their enemies is legion, and they must be +fought early and late, day and night, without cessation. The cutworm, +the wire-worm, the pansy-worm, the thrip, the rose-beetle, the aphis, +the mildew, and many more, but worst of all the loathsome slug, a +slimy, shapeless creature that devours every fair and exquisite thing +in the garden,--the flower lover must seek all these with unflagging +energy, and if possible exterminate the whole. So only may he and his +precious flowers purchase peace. Manifold are the means of destruction +to be employed, for almost every pest requires a different poison. +On a closet shelf which I keep especially for them are rows of tin +pepper-boxes, each containing a deadly powder, all carefully labeled. +For the thrip that eats out the leaves of the Rosebush till they are +nothing but fibrous skeletons of woody lace, there is hellebore, to +be shaken on the under side of all the leaves,--mark you, the _under_ +side, and think of the difficulties involved in the process of so +treating hundreds of leaves! For the blue or gray mildew and the +orange mildew another box holds powdered sulphur,--this is more easily +applied, shaken over the tops of the bushes, but all the leaves must +be reached, none neglected at your peril! Still another box contains +yellow snuff for the green aphis, but he is almost impossible to +manage,--let once his legions get a foothold, good-by to any hope +for you! Lime, salt, paris green, cayenne pepper, kerosene emulsion, +whale-oil soap, the list of weapons is long indeed, with which one +must fight the garden’s foes! And it must be done with such judgment, +persistence, patience, accuracy, and watchful care! It seems to me the +worst of all the plagues is the slug, the snail without a shell. He is +beyond description repulsive, a mass of sooty, shapeless slime, and +he devours everything. He seems to thrive on all the poisons known; +salt and lime are the only things that have power upon him, at least +the only things I have been able to find so far. But salt and lime +must be used very carefully, or they destroy the plant as effectually +as the slug would do. Every night, while the season is yet young, and +the precious growths just beginning to make their way upward, feeling +their strength, I go at sunset and heap along the edge of the flower +beds air-slaked lime, or round certain most valuable plants a ring of +the same,--the slug cannot cross this while it is fresh, but should it +be left a day or two it loses its strength, it has no more power to +burn, and the enemy may slide over it unharmed, leaving his track of +slime. On many a solemn midnight have I stolen from my bed to visit +my cherished treasures by the pale glimpses of the moon, that I might +be quite sure the protecting rings were still strong enough to save +them, for the slug eats by night, he is invisible by day unless it +rains or the sky be overcast. He hides under every damp board or in +any nook of shade, because the sun is death to him. I use salt for his +destruction in the same way as the lime, but it is so dangerous for the +plants, I am always afraid of it. Neither of these things must be left +about them when they are watered lest the lime or salt sink into the +earth in such quantities as to injure the tender roots. I have little +cages of fine wire netting which I adjust over some plants, carefully +heaping the earth about them to leave no loophole through which the +enemy may crawl, and round some of the beds, which are inclosed in +strips of wood, boxed, to hold the earth in place, long shallow troughs +of wood are nailed and filled with salt to keep off the pests. Nothing +that human ingenuity can suggest do I leave untried to save my beloved +flowers! Every evening at sunset I pile lime and salt about my pets, +and every morning remove it before I sprinkle them at sunrise. The salt +dissolves of itself in the humid sea air and in the dew, so around +those for whose safety I am most solicitous I lay rings of pasteboard +on which to heap it, to be certain of doing the plants no harm. Judge, +reader, whether all this requires strength, patience, perseverance, +hope! It is hard work beyond a doubt, but I do not grudge it, for great +is my reward. Before I knew what to do to save my garden from the +slugs, I have stood at evening rejoicing over rows of fresh emerald +leaves just springing in rich lines along the beds, and woke in the +morning to find the whole space stripped of any sign of green, as blank +as a board over which a carpenter’s plane has passed. + +In the thickest of my fight with the slugs some one said to me, +“Everything living has its enemy; the enemy of the slug is the toad. +Why don’t you import toads?” + +I snatched at the hope held out to me, and immediately wrote to a +friend on the continent, “In the name of the Prophet, Toads!” At once a +force of only too willing boys was set about the work of catching every +toad within reach, and one day in June a boat brought a box to me from +the far-off express office. A piece of wire netting was nailed across +the top, and upon the earth with which it was half filled, reposing +among some dry and dusty green leaves, sat three dry and dusty toads, +wearily gazing at nothing. Is this all, I thought, only three! Hardly +worth sending so far. Poor creatures, they looked so arid and wilted, +I took up the hose and turned upon them a gentle shower of fresh cool +water, flooding the box. I was not prepared for the result! The dry, +baked earth heaved tumultuously; up came dusky heads and shoulders and +bright eyes by the dozen. A sudden concert of liquid sweet notes was +poured out on the air from the whole rejoicing company. It was really +beautiful to hear that musical ripple of delight. I surveyed them with +eager interest as they sat singing and blinking together. “You are not +handsome,” I said, as I took a hammer and wrenched off the wire cover +that shut them in, “but you will be lovely in my sight if you will +help me to destroy mine enemy;” and with that I turned the box on its +side and out they skipped into a perfect paradise of food and shade. +All summer I came upon them in different parts of the garden, waxing +fatter and fatter till they were as round as apples. In the autumn baby +toads no larger than my thumb nail were found hopping merrily over the +whole island. There were sixty in that first importation; next summer I +received ninety more. But alas! small dogs discover them in the grass +and delight to tear and worry them to death, and the rats prey upon +them so that many perish in that way; yet I hope to keep enough to +preserve my garden in spite of fate. + +In France the sale of toads for the protection of gardens is universal, +and I find under the head of “A Garden Friend,” in a current newspaper, +the following item:-- + +“One is amused, in walking through the great Covent Garden Market, +London, to find toads among the commodities offered for sale. In such +favor do these familiar reptiles stand with English market gardeners +that they readily command a shilling apiece.... The toad has indeed no +superior as a destroyer of noxious insects, and as he possesses no bad +habits and is entirely inoffensive himself, every owner of a garden +should treat him with the utmost hospitality. It is quite worth the +while not only to offer any simple inducements which suggest themselves +for rendering the premises attractive to him, but should he show a +tendency to wander away from them, to go so far as to exercise a +gentle force in bringing him back to the regions where his services may +be of the greatest utility.” + +One of the most universal pests is the cutworm, a fat, naked worm of +varying lengths. I have seen them two inches and a half long and as +large round as my little finger. This unpleasant creature lives in the +ground about the roots of plants. I have known one to go through a +whole row of Sweet Peas and cut them off smoothly above the roots just +as a sickle would do; there lay the dead stalks in melancholy line. It +makes no difference what the plant may be, they will level all without +distinction. The only remedy for this plague is to scratch all about +in the earth round the roots of the plants where their ravages begin, +dig the worms out, and kill them. I have found sometimes whole nests +of them with twenty young ones at once. Lime dug into the soil is +recommended to destroy them, but there is no remedy so sure as seeking +a personal interview and slaying them on the spot. They are not by any +means always to be discovered, but the gardener must again exercise +that endless patience upon which the success of the garden depends, and +be never weary of seeking them till they are found. + +Another enemy to my flowers, and a truly formidable one, is my little +friend the song-sparrow. Literally he gives the plot of ground no peace +if I venture to put seeds into it. He obliges me to start almost all +my seeds in boxes, to be transplanted into the beds when the plants +are sufficiently tough to have lost their delicacy for his palate and +are no longer adapted to his ideal of a salad. All the Sweet Peas, +many hundreds of the delicate plants, are every one grown in this +way. When they are a foot high with roots a foot long they are all +transplanted separately. Even then the little robber attacks them, +and, though he cannot uproot, he will “yank” and twist the stems till +he has murdered them in the vain hope of pulling up the remnant of a +pea which he judges to be somewhere beneath the surface. Then must +sticks and supports be draped with yards of old fishing nets to protect +the unfortunates, and over the Mignonette, and even the Poppy beds +and others, I must lay a cover of closely woven wire to keep out the +marauder. But I love him still, though sadly he torments me. I have +adored his fresh music ever since I was a child, and I only laugh as +he sits on the fence watching me with his bright black eyes; there is +something quaintly comical and delightful about him, and he sings like +a friendly angel. From him I can protect myself, but I cannot save my +garden so easily from the hideous slug, for which I have no sentiment +save only a fury of extermination. + +If possible, it is much the best way to begin in the autumn to work +for the garden of the next spring, and the first necessity is the +preparation of the soil. If the gardener is as fortunate as I am at +the Isles of Shoals, there will be no trouble in doing this, for there +the barn manure is heaped in certain waste places, out of the way, +and left till every change of wind and weather, of temperature and +climate, have so wrought upon it that it becomes a fine, odorless, +velvet-brown earth, rich in all needful sustenance for almost all +plants,--“well-rotted manure,” the “Old Farmer’s Almanac” calls it. But +if there is no mine of wealth such as this from which to draw, there +are many fertilizers, sold by all seed and plant merchants, which will +answer the purpose very well. I have, however, never found anything to +equal barn manure as food for flowers, and if not possible to obtain +this in a state fit for immediate use, it is best to have several +cart-loads taken from the barn in autumn and piled in a heap near the +garden plot, there to remain all winter, till rains and snows and cold +and heat, all the powers of the elements, have worked their will upon +it, and rendered it fit for use in the coming spring. Many people make +a compost heap,--it is an excellent thing to do,--piling turf and +dead leaves and refuse together, and leaving it to slow decay till it +becomes a fine, rich, mellow earth. In my case the barn manure has been +more easily obtained, and so I have used it always and with complete +success, but I have a compost heap also, to use for plants which do not +like barn manure. + +As late as possible, before the ground freezes, I dig up the single +Dahlia tubers (there are no double ones in my garden), and put them in +boxes filled with clean, dry sand, to keep in a frost-free cellar till +spring. I find Gladiolus bulbs, Tulips, Lilies, and so forth, will keep +perfectly well in the ground through the winter at the Shoals. Over +the Foxgloves, Iceland Poppies, Wallflowers, Mullein Pinks, Picotees, +and other perennials, I scatter the fine barn manure lightly, over +the Hollyhocks more heavily, and about the Rosebushes I heap it up +high, quite two thirds of their whole height,--you cannot give them +too much, only be careful that enough of their length, that is to say, +one third of the highest sprays, are left out in the air, that they +may breathe. In the spring this manure must all be carefully dug into +the ground round their roots. About Honeysuckles, Clematis, Grapevine, +and so forth, I pile it plentifully, mixed with wood ashes, which is +especially good for Grapevine and Rosebushes. But the white Lilies, +and indeed Lilies generally, do not like to come in contact with the +barn manure, so they are protected by leaves and boughs, and the earth +near them enriched in the spring, carefully avoiding the contact which +they dislike. When putting the garden in order in the autumn, all the +dry Sweet Pea vines, and dead stalks of all kinds, which are pulled +up to clear the ground, I heap for shelter over the perennials, being +careful to lay small bayberry branches over first, so that I may in no +way interfere with a free circulation of air about them. In open spaces +where no perennials are growing I scatter the manure thickly, that the +ground may be slowly and surely enriched all through the winter and be +ready to furnish bountiful nourishment for every green growing thing +through the summer. When the little plot is spaded in April, all this +is dug in and mixed thoroughly with the soil. + +When the snow is still blowing against the window-pane in January and +February, and the wild winds are howling without, what pleasure it is +to plan for summer that is to be! Small shallow wooden boxes are ready, +filled with mellow earth (of which I am always careful to lay in a +supply before the ground freezes in the autumn), sifted and made damp; +into it the precious seeds are dropped with a loving hand. The Pansy +seeds lie like grains of gold on the dark soil. I think as I look at +them of the splendors of imperial purples folded within them, of their +gold and blue and bronze, of all the myriad combinations of superb +color in their rich velvets. Each one of these small golden grains +means such a wealth of beauty and delight! Then the thin flake-like +brown seeds of the annual Stocks or Gillyflowers; one little square +of paper holds the white Princess Alice variety, so many thick double +spikes of fragrant snow lie hidden in each thin dry flake! Another +paper holds the pale rose-color, another the delicate lilacs, or deep +purples, or shrimp pinks, or vivid crimsons,--all are dropped on the +earth, lightly covered, gently pressed down; then sprinkled and set in +a warm place, they are left to germinate. Next I come to the single +Dahlia seeds, rough, dry, misshapen husks, that, being planted thus +early, will blossom by the last of June, unfolding their large rich +stars in great abundance till frost. They blossom in every variety of +color except blue; all shades of red from faint rose to black maroon, +and all are gold-centred. They are every shade of yellow from sulphur +to flame,--king’s flowers, I call them, stately and splendid. + +All these and many more are planted. For those that do not bear +transplanting I prepare other quarters, half filling shallow boxes +with sand, into which I set rows of egg-shells close together, each +shell cut off at one end, with a hole for drainage at the bottom. These +are filled with earth, and in them the seeds of the lovely yellow, +white, and orange Iceland Poppies are sowed. By and by, when comes the +happy time for setting them out in the garden beds, the shell can be +broken away from the oval ball of earth that holds their roots without +disturbing them, and they are transplanted almost without knowing it. +It is curious how differently certain plants feel about this matter of +transplanting. The more you move a Pansy about the better it seems to +like it, and many annuals grow all the better for one transplanting; +but to a Poppy it means death, unless it is done in some such careful +way as I have described. + +The boxes of seeds are put in a warm, dark place, for they only require +heat and moisture till they germinate. Then when the first precious +green leaves begin to appear, what a pleasure it is to wait and tend +on the young growths, which are moved carefully to some cool, sunny +chamber window in a room where no fire is kept, for heat becomes +the worst enemy at this stage, and they spindle and dwindle if not +protected from it. When they are large enough, having attained to +their second leaves, each must be put into a little pot or egg-shell +by itself (all except the Poppies and their companions, already in +egg-shells), so that by the time the weather is warm enough they will +be ready to be set out, stout and strong, for early blooming. + +This pleasant business goes on during the winter in the picturesque old +town of Portsmouth, New Hampshire, whither I repair in the autumn from +the Isles of Shoals, remaining through the cold weather and returning +to the islands on the first of April. My upper windows all winter are +filled with young Wallflowers, Stocks, single Dahlias, Hollyhocks, +Poppies, and many other garden plants, which are watched and tended +with the most faithful care till the time comes for transporting them +over the seas to Appledore. A small steam tug, the Pinafore, carries me +and my household belongings over to the islands, and a pretty sight is +the little vessel when she starts out from the old brown wharves and +steams away down the beautiful Piscataqua River, with her hurricane +deck awave with green leaves and flowers, for all the world like a +May Day procession. My blossoming house plants go also, and there are +Palms and Ferns and many other lovely things that make the small boat +gay indeed. All the boxes of sprouted seedlings are carefully packed +in wide square baskets to keep them steady, and the stout young plants +hold up their strong stems and healthy green leaves, and take the wind +and sun bravely as the vessel goes tossing over the salt waves out to +sea. + +By the first of April it is time to plant Sweet Peas. From this time +till the second week in May, when one may venture to transplant into +the garden, the boxes containing the myriads of seedlings must be +carefully watched and tended, put out of doors on piazza roofs and +balcony through the days and taken in again at night, solicitously +protected from too hot suns and too rough winds, too heavy rains or too +low a temperature,--they require continual care. But it is joy to give +them all they need, and pleasure indeed to watch their vigorous growth. +Meanwhile there is much delightful work to be done in making the small +garden plot ready. This little island garden of mine is so small that +the amount of pure delight it gives in the course of a summer is +something hardly to be credited. It lies along the edge of a piazza +forty or fifty feet long, sloping to the south, not more than fifteen +feet wide, sheltered from the north winds and open to the sun. The +whole piazza is thickly draped with vines, Hops, Honeysuckles, blue and +white Clematis, Cinnamon Vine, _Mina Lobata_, Wistaria, Nasturtiums, +Morning-glories, Japanese Hops, Woodbine, and the beautiful, and +picturesque Wild Cucumber (_Echinocystus Lobata_), which in July +nearly smothers everything else and clothes itself in a veil of filmy +white flowers in loose clusters, fragrant, but never too sweet, always +refreshing and exquisite. The vines make a grateful green shade, doubly +delightful for that there are no trees on my island, and the shade is +most welcome in the wide brilliancy of sea and sky. + +In the first week of April the ground is spaded for me: after +that no hands touch it save my own throughout the whole season. Day +after day it is so pleasant working in the bright cool spring air, for +as yet the New England spring is alert and brisk in temperature and +shows very little softening in its moods. But by the seventh day of the +month, as I stand pruning the Rosebushes, there is a flutter of glad +wings, and lo! the first house martins! Beautiful creatures, with their +white breasts and steel-blue wings, wheeling, chattering, and scolding +at me, for they think I stand too near their little brown house on +the corner of the piazza eaves, and they let me know their opinion by +coming as near as they dare and snapping their beaks at me with a low +guttural sound of displeasure. But after a few days, when they have +found they cannot scare me and that I do not interfere with them, they +conclude that I am a harmless kind of creature and endure me with +tranquillity. Straightway they take possession of their summer quarters +and begin to build their cosy nest within. Oh, then the weeks of joyful +work, the love-making, the cooing, chattering, calling, in tones +of the purest delight and content, the tilting against the wind on +burnished wings, the wheeling, fluttering, coquetting, and caressing, +the while they bring feathers and straw and shreds and down for their +nest-weaving,--all this goes on till after the eggs are laid, when +they settle down into comparative quiet. Then often the father bird +sits and meditates happily in the sun upon his tiny brown chimney-top, +while the mother bird broods below. Or they go out and take a dip in +the air together, or sit conversing in pretty cadences a little space, +till mother bird must hie indoors to the eggs she dare not leave longer +lest they grow chill. And this sweet little drama is repeated all about +the island, on sunny roofs and corners and tall posts, wherever a bird +house has been built for their convenience. All through April and May I +watch them as I go to and fro about my business, while they attend to +theirs; we do not interfere with each other; they have made up their +minds to endure me, but I adore them! Flattered indeed am I if, while +I am at work upon the flower beds below, father martin comes and sits +close to me on the fence rail and chatters musically, unmindful of my +quiet movements, quite fearless and at home. + +[Illustration: _A Shady Seat_] + +While I am busy with pleasant preparation and larger hope, I rejoice +in the beauty of the pure white Snowdrops I found blossoming in their +sunny corner when I arrived on the first of April, fragile winged +things with their delicate sea-green markings and fresh, grass-like +leaves. Ever since the first of March have they been blossoming, and +the Crocus flowers begin, as if blown out of the earth, like long, +lovely bubbles of gold and purple, or white, pure or streaked with +lilac, to break, under the noon sun, into beautiful petals, showing the +orange anthers like flame within. And the little Scilla Siberica hangs +its enchanting bells out to the breeze, blue, oh, blue as the deep sea +water at its bluest under cloudless skies. And later, yellow Daffodils +and Jonquils, “Tulips dashed with fiery dew,” the exquisite, mystic +poet’s Narcissus, and one crimson Peony,--my little garden has not room +for more than one of these large plants, so early blossoming and at +their end so soon. + +In the first week of May every year punctually arrive the barn +swallows and the sandpipers at the Isles of Shoals. This seems a very +commonplace statement of a very simple fact, but would it were possible +to convey in words the sense of delight with which they are welcomed on +this sea-surrounded rock! + +Some morning in the first of May I sit in the sunshine and soft air, +transplanting my young Pansies and Gillyflowers into the garden +beds,--father and mother martin on the fence watching me and talking to +each other in a charming language, the import of which is clear enough, +though my senses are not sufficiently delicate to comprehend the words. +The song-sparrows pour out their simple, friendly lays from bush and +wall and fence and gable peak all about me. Down in a hollow I hear +the brimming note of the white-throated sparrow,--brimming is the only +word that expresses it,--like “a beaker full of the warm South,”--such +joy, such overflowing measure of bliss! There is a challenge from a +robin, perhaps, or a bobolink sends down his “brook o’ laughter through +the air,” or high and far a curlew calls; there is a gentle lapping +of waves from the full tide, for the sea is only a stone’s-throw from +my garden fence. I hear the voices of the children prattling not far +away; there are no other sounds. Suddenly from the shore comes a clear +cry thrice repeated, “Sweet, sweet, sweet!” And I call to my neighbor, +my brother, working also in his garden plot, “The sandpiper! Do you +hear him?” and the glad news goes from mouth to mouth, “The sandpiper +has come!” Oh, the lovely note again and again repeated, “Sweet, +sweet, sweet!” echoing softly in the stillness of the tide-brimmed +coves, where the quiet water seems to hush itself to listen. Never so +tender a cry is uttered by any bird I know; it is the most exquisitely +beautiful, caressing tone, heard in the dewy silence of morning and +evening. He has many and varied notes and calls, some colloquial, some +business-like, some meditative, and his cry of fear breaks my heart to +hear when any evil threatens his beloved nest; but this tender call, +“Sweet, sweet,” is the most enchanting sound, happy with a fullness of +joy that never fails to bring a thrill to the heart that listens. It is +like the voice of Love itself. + +Then out of the high heaven above, at once one hears the happy chorus +of the barn swallows; they come rejoicing, their swift wings cleave the +blue, they fill the air with woven melody of grace and music. Till late +August they remain. Like the martins’, their note is pure joy; there is +no coloring of sadness in any sound they make. The sandpiper’s note is +pensive with all its sweetness; there is a quality of thoughtfulness, +as it were, in the voice of the song-sparrow; the robin has many sad +cadences; in the fairy bugling of the oriole there is a triumphant +richness, but not such pure delight; the blackbird’s call is keen +and sweet, but not so glad; and the bobolink, when he shakes those +brilliant jewels of sound from his bright throat, is always the prince +of jokers, full of fun, but not so happy as comical. The swallows’ +twittering seems an expression of unalloyed rapture,--I should select +it from the songs of all the birds I know as the voice of unshadowed +gladness. + + + + +[Illustration] + +[Illustration] + +“God Almightie first planted a Garden,” says Lord Bacon. “And indeed it +is the Purest of Humane Pleasures, it is the Greatest Refreshment to +the Spirits of Man.” Never were truer words spoken. + +So deeply is the gardener’s instinct implanted in my soul, I really +love the tools with which I work,--the iron fork, the spade, the hoe, +the rake, the trowel, and the watering-pot are pleasant objects in my +eyes. The ingenuity of modern times has invented many variations of +these primitive instruments of toil, and many of them are most useful +and helpful, as, for instance, a short, five-pronged hand-fork, a +delightful tool to use in breaking up the earth about the roots of +weeds. Some of the weeds are so wide-spreading and tenacious, like +clover and mallow, that they seem to have fastened themselves around +the nether millstone, it is so difficult to disengage their hold. Once +loosened, however, by the friendly little fork, they must come up, +whether they will or no. + +I like to take the hoe in my hands and break to pieces the clods of +earth left by the overturning spade, to work into the soil the dark, +velvet-smooth, scentless barn manure which is to furnish the best of +food for my flowers; it is a pleasure to handle the light rake, drawing +it evenly through the soil and combing out every stick and stone and +straw and lump, till the ground is as smooth and fine as meal. This +done carefully and thoroughly, the beds laid out neatly, with their +surface level as a floor, and not heaped high enough to let the rains +run off,--then is the ground ready for the sowing of the seeds. + +The very act of planting a seed in the earth has in it to me something +beautiful. I always do it with a joy that is largely mixed with awe. I +watch my garden beds after they are sown, and think how one of God’s +exquisite miracles is going on beneath the dark earth out of sight. I +never forget my planted seeds. Often I wake in the night and think how +the rains and the dews have reached to the dry shell and softened it; +how the spirit of life begins to stir within, and the individuality +of the plant to assert itself; how it is thrusting two hands forth +from the imprisoning husk, one, the root, to grasp the earth, to hold +itself firm and absorb its food, the other stretching above to find the +light, that it may drink in the breeze and sunshine and so climb to +its full perfection of beauty. It is curious that the leaf should so +love the light and the root so hate it. In his “Proserpina” John Ruskin +discourses on this subject in his own inimitable way. All he says of +this is most interesting and suggestive: “The first instinct of the +stem, ... the instinct of seeking the light, as of the root to seek +darkness--what words can speak the wonder of it?” If “the seed falls +in the ground with the springing germ of it downwards, with heavenly +cunning the taught stem curls round and seeks the never seen light.” +The “taught” stem! Who taught it? What he says of the leaves and stems +is very beautiful; every one should read it. I really do not know which +is most wonderful of these descriptions of his, but nothing could be +more striking than this definition: “A root is a group of growing +fibres which taste and suck what is good for the plant out of the +ground, and by their united strength hold it in its place.... The thick +limbs of roots do not feed, but only the fine ends of them, which are +something between tongues and sponges, and while they absorb moisture +readily, are yet as particular about getting what they think nice to +eat as any dainty little boy or girl; looking for it everywhere, and +turning angry and sulky if they don’t get it.” + +There could not be a better description than this, and if any +seedsman would like to make his fortune without delay, he has only +to have printed on every packet of seed he offers for sale the kind +of soil, the food, required by each plant. For instance, why not +say of Mignonette, It flourishes best in a poor and sandy soil; so +treated it is much more fragrant than in a rich earth, which causes +it to run to leaves and makes its flowers fewer and less sweet. Or of +Poppies, Plant them in a rich sandy loam, all except the Californias +(_Eschscholtzia_), which do best in a poor soil. Or of Pansies, Give +them the richest earth you can find, no end of water, and partial +shade. Or, Don’t worry over drought for your Nasturtiums; they come +from Chile and will live and thrive with less water than almost +anything else that grows; don’t trouble yourself to enrich the ground +for them; that makes them profuse and coarse of leaves and sparing of +flowers; leave them to shift for themselves, once having cleared them +of weeds. No flower bears neglect so well. Or, Give your Zinnias a +heavy soil; they like clay. Or, Keep Sweet Peas as wet as you can and +make the ground for them as rich as possible. Or, Keep barn manure away +from your Lilies for your life! they will not brook contact with it, +but a rich soil they also like, only it must be made so by anything +rather than stable manure, and they, too, like clay; they blossom +best when it is given them. But transport to your garden a portion +of the very barnyard itself in which to set Roses, Sunflowers and +Hollyhocks, Honeysuckles and Dahlias. Hints of this kind would be to +the unaccustomed tiller of the soil simply invaluable. How much they +would lessen failures and discouragements! And to learn these things by +one’s self takes half a lifetime of sad experience. + +To return to our planting. Yes, the sowing of a seed seems a very +simple matter, but I always feel as if it were a sacred thing among +the mysteries of God. Standing by that space of blank and motionless +ground, I think of all it holds for me of beauty and delight, and I +am filled with joy at the thought that I may be the magician to whom +power is given to summon so sweet a pageant from the silent and passive +soil. I bring a mat from the house and kneel by the smooth bed of +mellow brown earth, lay a narrow strip of board across it a few inches +from one end, draw a furrow firmly and evenly in the ground along the +edge of the board, repeating this until the whole bed is grooved at +equal distances across its entire length. Into these straight furrows +the living seeds are dropped, the earth replaced over them (with a +depth of about twice their diameter), and the board laid flat with +gentle pressure over all the surface till it is perfectly smooth again. +Then must the whole be lightly and carefully watered. With almost all +the seeds sown in this bird-blest and persecuted little garden, I am +obliged to lay newspapers or some protection over the planted beds, +and over these again sheets of wire netting, to keep off the singing +sparrows till the seeds are safely sprouted. Last year, one morning +early in May, I put a border of Mignonette seeds round every flower +bed. When I came to the garden again in the afternoon, it was alive +with flirting wings and tails and saucy beaks and bright eyes, and +stout little legs and claws scratching like mad; all white-throats +and song-sparrows, and hardly a seed had these merry little marauders +left in the ground. Around the edge of each bed a groove ran, nicely +hollowed by their industrious feet, and empty as my hopes. I replaced +the seed from my store, and this time took great pains to lay two +laths side by side over the lines I had sowed, for safety. Next +morning I found the birds again at it; they had burrowed under, kicked +over, scratched away the light sticks, and again the seeds were all +devoured. Patiently I planted once more, and this time dragged from a +pile of lumber heavy square beams of different lengths, which I laid +along the borders. The birds eyed the barricades, strove to burrow +under, but were forced to give it up, and so at last I conquered. In +the course of a week I turned over the protecting beams and found the +little Mignonette plants white as potato shoots that have sprouted +in a cellar, but safe, for which I was devoutly thankful! A day or +two of sun and air made them green and strong, and all summer long I +valued every fragrant spike of flowers they gave me, doubly, because +of all the trouble I had gone through to save them. I mention this +little episode merely to illustrate the fact that the would-be gardener +requires more patience than most mortals! + +The state of the weather, the temperature of the air, the amount of +rain which falls, make all the difference in the world in the time it +takes for the first green leaves to appear. Some seeds take longer than +others to germinate: for instance, Hollyhocks, Marigolds, ten weeks +Stocks or Gillyflowers, Rose of Heaven, Zinnias, and many others come +up in from three to five days if all circumstances are favorable, that +is, if it is warm, moist, and sunny enough; Asters, single Dahlias, +Sunflowers, Cornflowers, Mignonette, Coreopsis, Morning-glory, Picotee +Pinks, Wallflowers, Sweet Williams, and by far the greater number of +annuals appear in from five to seven days; Balsams, Pansies, Begonias, +Drummond’s Phlox, Poppies, Verbenas, Thunbergia, and many others, +in from eight to ten days; Columbines, Flax, Artemisia, Feverfew, +Campanula, and so forth, in from ten to twelve days; Maurandia, +Forget-me-not, Petunia, Lantana, Nicotiana (an exquisite flower, by +the way), in from twelve to fifteen days; Cobœa, Gloxinia, Primroses, +Geraniums, and others, in from fifteen to twenty days; Perennial +Phlox, Clematis, Perennial Larkspurs (which are heavenly!), and +various others, take from twenty to thirty-five days to germinate; and +as for Lupines and Lilies and Ampelopsis, and the like, they take a +whole year! But common gardeners don’t try to raise these from seed, +fortunately. + +With the first faint green lines that are visible along the flower beds +come the weeds, yea, and even before them; a wild, vigorous, straggling +army, full of health, of strength, and a most marvelous power of +growth. These must be dealt with at once and without mercy; they must +be pulled up root and branch, without a moment’s delay. There is clover +that appears with a little circular leaf and has a root that seems to +reach all round in the under world; it goes everywhere and holds on +to the earth with a grip which is unequaled by anything that grows. +Not an atom of its roots must be left in the ground, for every thread +of it will send up new shoots, and if not watched fill all the space +in a few weeks. Another difficult weed to manage is the chickweed, +which is so delicate that it breaks at the slightest touch. It is a +most all-pervading weed; it fills every space between the flowers, +overruns them like a green mist, and will surely strangle them if left +unmolested. Alphonse Karr, who so greatly enjoyed his garden, and wrote +of it with so much pleasure, says: “The chickweed is endowed with a +fecundity that no other plant possesses.... Seven or eight generations +of chickweed cover the earth every year.... It occupies the fields +naturally, and invades our gardens; it is almost impossible to destroy +it.” + +There is a long procession of weeds to be fought: pigweed, ragweed, +smartweed, shepherd’s purse, mallow, mustard, sorrel, and many more, +which make the first crop. The second consists largely of quitch-grass, +the very worst of all, and purslain or pusley, which Charles Dudley +Warner has immortalized in his charming book, “My Summer in a Garden.” +The roots of quitch-grass are as strong as steel and run rapidly in all +directions underneath the surface, sending up tender shoots that break +too easily when you touch them. The root must be found, grasped firmly, +and followed its whole length to utter extermination, or the grass will +come up like a giant, and later cannot be dealt with except by pulling +up also the flowers among which it inextricably entangles itself. The +flat, olive-green leaves and red fleshy stems of the pusley, running +over the ground in a mat, next appear; this is easily disposed of, only +it continues to come up,--fresh plants in endless succession rise from +the soil all summer, and must be watched and faithfully destroyed. + +There is one weed, or wild plant, dodder by name, which has given my +island garden the greatest possible trouble. It is often wrongly called +gold-thread, because it looks like a tangled mass of amber thread, +but the true gold-thread is quite different. The whole plant consists +of nothing but these seemingly endless brittle reddish yellow stalks +with bunches of small, dull, whitish flowers without stems, borne at +intervals, with no leaves at all. It has no root in the earth, it is a +parasite, and not at all particular as to what it fastens itself upon; +anything that comes in its way will answer its purpose. It is very +pretty in its place, growing among the goldenrod and blue skullcap at +the top of the rocky little coves that slope down to the water about +the island, throwing itself from plant to plant, and making a mass +of translucent amber color. But alas! when it gets into a civilized +garden, woe, woe unto that garden! A handful of it in bloom was brought +to my piazza twenty years ago, and some of it was accidentally thrown +into the flower beds; I have been fighting it ever since. I have never +yet been able to get rid of it! Next year I found my Nasturtiums, +Cornflowers, Marigolds, and all the rest tangled together in this +yellow web, a mass of inextricable confusion. Year after year I waged +war against it, but even yet it is not entirely exterminated. I never +allow a plant of it in the garden, no seeds of it ripen there, and +none of it grows near the place outside; not a single atom of it in +my small domain could possibly escape my eye, and yet its seeds come +up more or less every year; I am sure to find one or two plants of it +in the garden somewhere. They emerge from the ground, each like a fine +yellow hair, till they are an inch and a half or two inches long; they +reach with might and main toward the nearest legitimate growing plant, +and when they touch it cling to it like a limpet; then they draw their +other end up out of the ground and set up housekeeping for the rest +of their lives. They adhere to the unhappy individual upon which they +have fixed themselves with a grip that grows more and more horrible; +they suck all its juices, drink all its health and strength and beauty, +and fling out trailers to the next and the next and the next, till the +whole garden is a mass of ruin and despair. + +For many springs after the first year it appeared I used to take a +glass tumbler and go all over the beds soon after they were laid out, +pulling up these tiny yellow hairs, and in an hour or two I have pulled +up five or six tumblers full. I gathered them in glasses so that I +might be quite sure of all I plucked, and because they could not easily +blow away out of such a receptacle. For wherever they might fall, if +they touched a green growing thing they would in an astonishingly short +space of time make themselves fast for good, or rather for ill! Every +year I watch for it with the most eager vigilance as I weed carefully +over the whole surface of the little pleasance, but sometimes it steals +up after all the weeding is done, and, before I know it, I find it has +begun to tie the flowers together. Then I pull up all the plants it has +touched, lay them in a basket, carry them down, and cast the whole into +the sea. It is the only way to be rid of it. I have known it wind its +inexorable way tightly up the large smooth stem of a tall Sunflower, +where I had not thought of looking for it, till there was not an atom +of the skin of the stalk visible, only amber-colored dodder and its +white, dull flowers from the great head of the blossoming Sunflower +tree to its root. Into the sea the whole thing went, at once, without a +moment of delay! + +These are only a few of the weeds with which one must battle, though +dodder, I fancy, seldom troubles any one on the planet as it does me. +It takes an island garden to produce so remarkable a growth! Most +of them soon become familiar, too familiar, indeed, and at last one +learns how to manage them. The great mistake which the inexperienced +gardener makes is in leaving a morsel of the root of a weed in the +ground. Only by combing the earth through and through between the rows +of plants with the small hand-fork (after all the intruders have been +removed as carefully as possible with the hand), can you be sure that +they are gone. Other seeds of weeds will be overturned and brought +to the surface in the process, and these will sprout in their turn, +but by this time the flowers will have made so much headway that +they will crowd out the new crop of weeds enough to insure their own +safety, except in some few instances. Apple of Peru (Stramonium) is +one of the most powerful and persistent among the enemies; a poisonous +thing with a loathsome odor, it must be watched for and routed, which +fortunately is easily done. In its perfected growth this is the most +uncanny plant,--a strong, low bush with bat-like leaves of dark green, +and long, pale lavender, lily-like flowers, followed by a round spiked +seed-vessel. Says Hawthorne: “What hidden virtue is in these things +that it is granted to sow themselves with the wind and to grapple the +earth with this immitigable stubbornness, and to flourish in spite of +obstacles, and never to suffer blight beneath any sun or shade, but +always to mock their enemies with the same wicked luxuriance?” Mrs. +Gatty (the mother of that beautiful woman, Juliana Horatia Ewing, who +has so discoursed on the subject of flowers and many other things as +to make all time her debtor) answers the question, “What is a weed?” +by this statement, “A weed is a plant out of place.” A keen and close +observer of nature says: “A better definition would be, ‘A plant which +has an innate disposition to _get_ into the wrong place;’” and goes +on to say: “This is the very essence of weed character--in plants as +in men. If you glance through your botanical books you will see often +added to certain names, ‘a troublesome weed.’ It is not its being +venomous or ugly, but its being impertinent--thrusting itself where +it has no business and hinders other people’s business--that makes a +weed of it.... Who ever saw a wood anemone or a heath blossom out of +place? ... What is it, then, this temper in some plants--malicious as +it seems, intrusive, at all events, or erring--which brings them out of +their places, thrusts them where they thwart us and offend?” This seems +to me the best definition of what constitutes a weed that I have seen. + +And their strength is mighty, and their name is legion. If there were +no other enemies which the gardener must fight, this one of weeds alone +is quite enough to tax all his powers and patience. + +Then the plants kill each other if they are left to grow as thickly +together as the seeds were sown; they must be “thinned out” as soon as +they have attained to their second leaf, leaving two, three, four, or +five inches between each two plants side by side. I always leave two +plants where one would be enough, because something is so likely to +happen to destroy them, and if there are two the hard fates may perhaps +leave one. Some things require much more space than others. Pinks that +spire up so thin and tall can be set closer together than Poppies, +which spread widely in all directions. This pulling up and throwing +away of the superfluous plants is a very difficult thing for me to do. +I cannot bear to destroy one of the precious young seedlings that I +have watched and tended with such love and care, but it must be done. +It is a matter of the very greatest importance. The welfare of the +garden depends on it. I comfort myself as best I may by saving all that +will bear transplanting, and then giving them away to the flower plots +of my fellow-gardeners on neighboring islands. + +Soon the whole plot mantles over all its surface with the rich, warm +green of vigorous leafage. The new growth rejoices. That is the right +word for it. The gladness of green growing things is apparent to any +seeing eye. They rejoice with a radiant joy in sun and rain and air +and dew, in all care and kindness. They know and respond to everything +that is done for them. The low-growing Drummond’s Phlox is one of the +most satisfactory flowers for a beginner in the art of gardening. +There is no such word as fail in its bright lexicon; and it blossoms +continually from the last of June till frost. Looking carefully every +day, by the last half of June I find the pale clustered flower buds +showing; then it is not long to wait before the whole bed is a blaze +of varied color, a delicate woven carpet of myriad vivid hues. In the +lovely buds the petals are folded one over the other in beautiful +succession. The flowers are five-petaled, with a faint, sweet perfume; +they are borne in flat clusters of an exquisite, velvety texture, with +a clearly marked eye in the centre encircling the few pearl-white +stamens; this eye varies with the hue of each different flower. There +will be delicious pinks among these Phloxes, from the palest rose to +the deepest cherry; all shades of red from bright, light scarlet, clear +and pure, to a rich black red,--the Black Warrior. There will be all +heavenly purples, pale lilacs, deep red purple and blue purple, perfect +snow white: the eye in this last is soft green, like the touches on a +Snowdrop bell. The scarlet flowers have a ring of black-red about the +centre, delicately gorgeous. There are almost endless varieties and +mixtures of color; they are full of surprises. The Star of Quedlinburg +is such a pretty, quaint change rung upon this pleasant theme of +Phloxes. The centre of the outer line of each petal is drawn out at the +edge like the tails on the under wings of the Luna moth. These long +tails in which each petal terminates give the flower the aspect of a +star with rays. “Ask of Nature why the star form she repeats,” says +Emerson. It is forever repeated among the flowers. + +[Illustration: _The Garden in its Glory_] + +At bird-peep, as the country folk have a charming way of calling the +break of day, I am in my dear garden,--planting and transplanting, +hoeing, raking, weeding, watering, tying up and training those plants +that need it, and always fighting for their precious lives against +their legions of enemies. There is a time of great danger upon the +island from the birds when they are migrating northward. They come +suddenly down from the sky in myriads, on their way to the continent, +and I have known them to strip the little plot of every green shoot +in a single day, utterly bare. Nothing but fishing nets draped over +the whole space will save the garden when these hungry hordes descend. +But I do not lose patience with the birds, however sorely they try +me. I love them too well. How should they know that the garden was +not planted for them? Those belonging to the thrush tribe are the +most mischievous; the others do not disturb the flower beds so much. +The friendly robin, though a thrush, only comes for worms, to +which he is more than welcome. Most of the other birds--bobolinks, +kingbirds, orioles, purple finches, and many other beautiful creatures +less familiar--stay with us for a short time only, on their passage +north or south every year; but a single pair of kingbirds build every +summer in the one tall elm-tree on the island, where also builds a cosy +nuthatch and raises a numerous family, and one pair of most interesting +kingfishers haunts the upper cove till late in the season. A Maryland +yellow-throat began building here last summer. For several years one +pair of cuckoos lingered through the summer, but at last ceased to +come. A few blackbirds build, the white-throats stay late, but several +varieties of swallows, the song-sparrows, and sandpipers remain and +rear their broods. How we wish the robins would stay too, and the +orioles and all the sweet company! But there are no trees to shelter +them. Their coming and going, however, is a matter of the greatest +interest to the little family on the island, and we are thrown into a +state of the deepest excitement by the apparition of a scarlet tanager, +or a rose-breasted grosbeak, or any of those unfamiliar beauties. Once +a ferruginous thrush came and stayed a week with us in early June. +Every day when he perched on a ridge-pole or chimney-top and sang, the +whole family turned out in a body to listen, making a business of it, +attending to nothing else while that thrilling melody was poured out on +the silent air. That was a gift of the gods which we could, none of us, +afford to neglect! + +Says the wise Lord Bacon again: “And because the Breath of Flowers is +far sweeter in the Aire (when it comes and goes, like the Warbling of +Music) than in the hand, therefore nothing is more fit for that delight +than to know what be the Flowers and Plants that doe best perfume the +Aire.” + +The most exquisite perfume known to my garden is that of the +Wallflowers; there is nothing equal to it. They blossom early, +and generally before June has passed they are gone, and have left +me mourning their too swift departure. I wonder they are not more +generally cultivated, but I fancy the fact that they do not blossom +till the second year has much to do with their rarity. It requires +so much more faith and patience to wait a whole year, and meanwhile +carefully watch and tend the plants, excepting during the time when +winter covers them with a blanket of snow; but when at last spring +comes and the tardy flowers appear, then one is a thousand times repaid +for all the tedious months of waiting. They return such wealth of bloom +and fragrance for the care and thought bestowed on them! Their thick +spikes of velvet blossoms are in all shades of rich red, from scarlet +to the darkest brown, from light gold to orange; some are purple; and +their odor,--who shall describe it! Violets, Roses, Lilies, Sweet Peas, +Mignonette, and Heliotrope, with a dash of Honeysuckle, all mingled +in a heavenly whole. There is no perfume which I know that can equal +it. And they are so lavish of their scent; it is borne off the garden +and wafted everywhere, into the house and here and there in all +directions, in viewless clouds on the gentle air. To make a perfect +success of Wallflowers they must be given lime in some form about the +roots. They thrive marvelously if fed with a mixture of old plastering +in the soil, or bone meal, or, if that is not at hand, the meat +bones from the kitchen, calcined in the oven and pounded into bits, +stirred in around the roots is fine for them. This treatment makes +all the difference in the world in their strength and beauty. After +the Wallflowers, Roses and Lilies, Mignonette, Pinks, Gillyflowers, +Sweet Peas, and the Honeysuckles for fragrance, and of these last, +the monthly Honeysuckle is the most divine. Such vigor of growth I +have never seen in any other plant, and it is hardy even without the +least protection in our northern climate. It climbs the trellis on my +piazza and spreads its superb clusters of flowers from time to time all +summer. Each cluster is a triumph of beauty, flat in the centre and +curving out to the blossoming edge in joyous lines of loveliness, most +like a wreath of heavenly trumpets breathing melodies of perfume to the +air. Each trumpet of lustrous white deepens to a yellower tint in the +centre where the small ends meet; each blossom where it opens at the +lip is tipped with fresh pink; each sends out a group of long stamens +from its slender throat like rays of light: and the whole circle of +radiant flowers has an effect of gladness and glory indescribable: the +very sight of it lifts and refreshes the human heart. And for its odor, +it is like the spirit of romance, sweet as youth’s tender dreams. It +is summer’s very soul. + +This beautiful vine will grow anywhere, for anybody, only give it half +a chance, such is its matchless vigor. I wonder why it is not found in +every garden; nothing so well repays the slightest care. + +Next in power come the Sweet Peas, blossoming the livelong summer +in all lovely tints save only yellow, and even that the kind called +Primrose approaches, with its faint gold suffusion of both inner and +outer petals. I plant them by myriads in my tiny garden--all it will +hold. Transplant, I should say, because of my friends the birds, +who never leave me one if I dare plant them out of doors. But this +transplanting is most delightful. I thoroughly enjoy digging with the +hoe a long trench six inches deep for the strong young seedlings, +lifting them from the boxes, carefully disentangling their long white +roots each from the other as I take them out, and placing them in a +close row the whole length of the deep furrow, letting the roots drop +their whole length, with no curling or crowding, then half filling the +hollow with water, drawing the earth about the roots and firming the +whole with strong and gentle touch. They do not droop a single leaf so +transplanted; they go on growing as if nothing had happened, if only +they are given all the water they need. Already they stretch out their +delicate tendrils to climb, and I love to give them for support the +sticks with which the farmers supply their pea vines for the market; +but on my island are no woods, so I am thankful for humble bayberry +and elder branches for the purpose. It is another pleasure to go afar +among the rocks for these and wheel them to the flower beds in a light +wheelbarrow, which is one of the most useful things one can possess +for work about the garden. At once the vines lay hold of the slender +sticks and climb to the very top, fain are they to go much farther. But +I cut the tops so that they may branch from the sides and keep within +bounds, and they soon make a solid hedge of healthy green. Oh, when the +blossoms break from these green hedges like heavenly winged angels, and +their pure, cool perfume fills the air, what joy is mine! + +I find Sweet Peas can hardly have too rich a soil, provided always +that they are kept sufficiently wet. They _must_ have moisture, their +roots must be kept cool and damp,--a mulch of leaves or straw is a very +good thing to keep the roots from drying,--and they must always be +planted as deep as possible. Wood ashes give them a stronger growth. +Their colors, the great variety of them, and their vivid delicacy are +wonderful; they are most beautiful against the background of the sea; +they are a continual source of delight, and never cease to bloom, with +me, if gathered every day and watered abundantly, the whole summer +long, even through the autumn till November. But they must never be +suffered to go to seed; that would check their blossoming at once. I +revel in their beauty week after week, bringing them into the house +and arranging them in masses every other day. Clear glass vases are +most effective for them, and they look loveliest, I think, when each +color is kept by itself. For the Princess Beatrice, which is a divine +pale pink, a shade of rose refined and exquisite, there are glasses of +clear pink that repeat the hues of the flowers with magical gradations +and reflections. For the white kinds there are white vases, the most +effective of ground glass, the opaque surface of which matches the tone +of the flowers. + +Of the named kinds of Sweet Peas the most beautiful shades of pink +that I know are the divinely delicate Princess Beatrice, the palest +rose-color; Adonis, a deeper pink, very clear and rich; the Orange +Prince, a most ineffably splendid color of bright yellow-rose; these +together make a combination of color that satisfies the inmost soul. +Carmine Invincible is the most splendid red; the Butterfly is white +edged with mauve, and combined with the delicate rose Princess Beatrice +makes a delicious harmony. Blanche Ferry is also a lovely rose. Queen +Victoria is the best white I have known; but every year new varieties +are found which seem more and more beautiful, and it is only by trying +them that one finds which to depend on. + +Of the worth of these I have mentioned I am sure; they are the +strongest growers, the freest bloomers, and the most beautiful of their +kind. They never disappoint you if you give them the right care. The +list of flowers in my island garden is by no means long, but I could +discourse of them forever! They are mostly the old-fashioned flowers +our grandmothers loved. Beginning with Snowdrops, Crocuses, Daffodils, +Narcissus, a few Hyacinths, Scillas, an English Primrose or two, +Tulips, and several other early blooming plants, one big red Peony, +Columbine, Ragged Robin, Cornflowers, Roses and Lilies, Larkspurs, +Pinks and Gillyflowers, Sweet Williams, Wallflowers, Forget-me-nots, +single Dahlias, Sunflowers of every kind, and Hollyhocks of all +colors, Poppies in almost endless variety, Nasturtiums of all hues, +pot Marigolds, summer Chrysanthemums in great variety, Rose Campion, +or Rose of Heaven, Pansies, Phlox, Sweet Peas, and Mignonette, +Crimson Flax and the tall blue Perennial Flax (a wonderful blue!), +many kinds of Coreopsis,--all most valuable and decorative,--Asters, +Honeysuckle and Clematis, Morning-glories, Lavender and Foxgloves, +Candytuft, Verbenas, Thunbergia, Penstemon, the heaven-blue Ipomea, +white Petunias,--because they are so beautiful by moonlight,--a few +Four-o’clocks, and so forth. These are enough for a most happy little +garden. A few more modern plants are added, a golden and a rosy Lily +from Japan, a lustrous white gold-hearted Anemone from the same +country, for autumn blooming, one or two tuberous-rooted Begonias, +some Gaillardias and Zinnias, the fragrant little Asperula (Woodruff), +and some others. Among the new plants one of the most interesting +is the Hugelia Cœrulea, which grows a foot and a half high, with a +many-branched woolly leaf, and flowers in flat clusters of the most +delicious light blue. This is a flower with an atmosphere; it has a +quality of beauty quite indescribable. + + + + +[Illustration] + +[Illustration] + +I copy the notes of a few days’ work in the garden in May, just to give +an idea of their character and of the variety of occupation in this +small space of ground. + +May 11. This morning at four o’clock the sky was one rich red blush +in the east, over a sea as calm as a mirror. How could I wait for +the sun to lift its scarlet rim above the dim sea-line (though it +rose punctually at forty-seven minutes past four), when my precious +flower beds were waiting for me! It was not possible, and I was up +and dressed before he had flooded the earth with glory. “Straight +was a path of gold for him,” I said, as I gazed out at the long line +of liquid splendor along the ocean. All the boxes and baskets of the +more delicate seedlings were to be put out from my chamber window on +flat house-top and balcony, they and the forest of Sweet Peas to be +thoroughly watered, and the Pansies half shaded with paper lest the +sun should work them woe. At five the household was stirring, there +was time to write a letter or two, then came breakfast before six, +and by half past six I was out of doors at work in the vast circle +of motionless silence, for the sea was too calm for me to hear even +its breathing. It was so beautiful,--the dewy quiet, the freshness, +the long, still shadows, the matchless, delicate, sweet charm of the +newly wakened world. Such a color as the grass had taken on during the +last few warm days; and where the early shadows lay long across it, +such indescribable richness of tone! There was so much for me to do, I +hardly knew where to begin. At the east of the house the bed of Pansies +set out yesterday was bright with promise, every little plant holding +itself gladly erect. I began with the trellis each side of the steps +leading down into the garden, and first set out a Cobœa Scandens, one +to the right and one to the left,--strong, sturdy plants which I had +been keeping weeks in the house till it should be warm enough to trust +them out of doors. They were a foot high and stretching their sensitive +tendrils in all directions, seeking something for support. They grasped +the trellis at once and seemed to spread out every leaf to the warm +sun, while I poured cool water and liquid manure about their roots, and +congratulated them on their escape into the open ground. Near them, +against the same trellis, I put down two Tropæolum Lobbianum Lucifers, +a new scarlet variety of these delicate Nasturtiums, that they might +climb together over the broad arch. Some time ago I had planted there +also some Mexican Morning-glories sent me by an unknown friend, and +if they come up, and Cobœa, Nasturtiums, and Morning-glories all +climb together and clasp hands with Honeysuckle, Wistaria, and Wild +Cucumber, my porch will, indeed, be a bower of beauty! Then against +wall and fence I set out the stout bushes of single Dahlias which +have been growing ever since last January. A new variety called Star +of Lyons interests me. I am anxious to know what it is like, what its +color, what its shape. It is such a pleasure always to be finding new +varieties and combinations, fresh surprises in unfamiliar flowers. +Seeking the smallest posy bed I own, into this I transplanted another +stranger, Papaver Alpinum Roseum, a rose-colored Iceland Poppy. How +I shall watch it grow, and how eagerly wait for it to blossom! Eight +egg-shells full of it were set down and carefully watered. Next, a row +of baby Wallflowers were established in a long line near the tall ones +that are thick with buds. I am going to try to have a succession of +bloom from these, if it can be accomplished, all summer. In another +bed I began to set out a few of the choicest Sweet Peas, the new +kinds; these were already a foot long from tip to root ends. I have no +words to tell what pleasant work this is! After the Sweet Peas were +comfortably settled, I covered the whole bed with a length of light +mosquito net, pegging it at the corners, laying sticks and stones along +the edges to hold it down, so that the saucy sparrows should find no +loophole by which to wriggle inside; they having watched the whole +process with interested eyes from their perch on the fence-rail. How +beautiful it was to be sitting there in the sweet weather, working in +the wholesome brown earth! Just beyond the Sweet Peas I could see +my strong white Lilies springing up, a foot high already, with the +splendid hardy Larkspurs behind them, promising a wealth of white and +gold and azure by and by. From time to time through the calm morning, +as I labored thus peacefully, I heard the loons laughing loud and +clear in the stillness, and by lifting my head could see them off the +end of the wharf at the landing swimming to and fro with their bright +reflections, catching no end of fish and having the most delightful +time,--every now and then half raising themselves from the water and +flapping their wings, showing the dazzling white with which the strong +pinions were lined, and laughing again and again with a wild and eerie +sound. This means that a storm is coming, I know. But I love to hear +them, and how devoutly thankful I am that there is not a creature with +a gun on this blessed island! The loons know it well, or they never +would venture in so near, while they shout to the morning their wild +cries. + +Near me, where I had made the earth so very wet, suddenly fluttered +down a ruddy-breasted barn swallow, the beauty! for on such heavenly +terms are we that he did not mind me in the least as he gathered a +tiny load of mud for his nest against the rafters in the barn, and +flew away with it low on the wind. The barn swallows do not visit my +small inclosure as often as do my nearer neighbors, the white-breasted +martins. + +All this time the lovely day was slowly changing its early delicate +colors and freshness for the whiter light of noon. By twelve o’clock +the wind had “hauled” from west to south, going round through the +east, and sending millions of light ripples across the glassy water, +deepening its color to sparkling sapphire, and at last the sun +overhead seemed to pelt quicksilver in floods upon it, and then it was +dinner-time. After an hour of rest again I took up my work. All about, +here and there and everywhere, I dug up the scattered Echinocystus +vines and set them against the house, so that they could run up the +trellises on all sides to make grateful shade by and by. A few straying +Primroses waited to be moved outside the fence,--they take up so much +room within, and room is so precious inside the garden. Young plants of +the charming, old-fashioned Sweet Rocket had to be collected from the +nooks where they had sown themselves far and near, and set in clumps in +corners. Then there was a box of white Forget-me-nots some one had sent +me, to be established in their places, and I finished the afternoon +by planting Shirley Poppies all up and down the large bank at the +southwest of the garden, outside. I am always planting Shirley Poppies +somewhere! One never can have enough of them, and by putting them into +the ground at intervals of a week, later and later, one can secure +a succession of bloom and keep them for a much longer time,--keep, +indeed, their heavenly beauty to enjoy the livelong summer,--whereas, +if they are all planted at once you would see them for a blissful +moment, a week or ten days at most, and then they are gone. I have +planted and am going to continue planting till the middle of June, +in this year of grace 1893, no less than two whole ounces of Shirley +Poppies in all, and when one reflects that the seeds are so small as to +be hardly more than visible to the naked eye, one realizes this to be a +great many. + +[Illustration: _Larkspurs and Lilies_] + +May 12th. Again a radiant day. I watched the thin white half ring of +the waning moon as it stole up the east through the May haze at dawn. +This kind of haze belongs especially to this month; it is such an +exquisite color, like ashes of roses, till the sun suffuses it with +a burning blush before he leaps alive from the ocean’s rim. Again in +the garden at a little after six, to find the sparrows busy tunneling +up and down the bank, devouring the Poppies that I planted yesterday. +How they can see the seeds at all, or why they should care to feast on +anything so small, or why they do not all perish, as poor Pillicoddy +proposed doing, from the effects of such doses of opium, passes my +understanding. There was nothing to be done but to plant them all over +and then trail through the dewy grass long boards to lay up and down, +covering the bank, for protection. + +First, there were the small Tea Rosebushes to be set out in their sunny +bed, made rich with finely sifted manure and soot and a sprinkling of +wood ashes. And here let me say that all through the spring, beginning +when the hardy Damask and Jacqueminots, etc., are just unfolding their +leaf buds, it is a most excellent plan to sift wood ashes quite thickly +over all the Rosebushes, either just after a shower or after you have +been sprinkling them; let it remain on them for several hours,--if the +sun is not shining I leave it half a day,--but then it must all be +carefully washed off, every trace of it, or it will spoil the leaves. +This kills or discourages all sorts of insect pests, and the effect of +the ashes on the soil about their roots is most beneficial to the Roses. + +As I sat in measureless content by the little flower bed, carefully +slipping my pretty Bon Silenes and Catherine Mermets and yellow Sunsets +and the rest out of their pots, and gently firming them in the ground, +with plenty of water for refreshment, a cloud of the most delicious +perfume brooded about me from a bed of white violets at the left, the +hardiest, faithfulest, friendliest little flowers in the world. I +found two small Polyantha Roses had lived all winter in this sheltered +bed; that was indeed a charming find! At the back of it grows a tall +Jacqueminot, a black Tuscany Rose, and the strong white Rosa Rugosa, a +Japanese variety which bears very large single flowers in the greatest +profusion. This Rose is extremely valuable, easily obtained, so hardy +as to be almost indestructible, and absolutely untroubled by any +disease or insect plague whatever. Its foliage is always fresh and +handsome, and its seed vessels are huge scarlet balls as large as an +average Crab-Apple, most ornamental after the flowers are gone. But +the old, old black Tuscany Rose is the most precious of all. Mine came +from an ancient garden that vanished long ago, but which used to be a +glory to the town in which it grew. It is a hardy Rose also, in color +so darkly red as to be almost black,--a warm red, less crimson than +scarlet, glowing with a kind of smouldering splendor, with only two +rows of petals round a centre of richest gold. At the end of this bed +is a Water Hyacinth floating in its tub, and near it, in another tub, +a large pink Water Lily, kept over from last summer in a frost-proof +cellar, is sending up the loveliest leaves, touched with so sweet a +crimson as to be almost as delightful as the blossoms themselves. All +the rest of this day was spent in transplanting Asters from boxes into +the beds all over the garden, edging nearly every bed with them, so +that when the fleeting glory of Poppies and other earlier annuals is +gone there will still be beautiful color to gladden our eyes late in +the summer, quite into the autumn days. + +In the afternoon I had all the many boxes of Sweet Peas brought to the +piazza to be ready for transplanting, but remembering the sparrows, I +covered each box carefully with mosquito netting before leaving them +for the night. + +14th. Sunday. A storm of wild wind and flooding rain, the storm the +loons predicted! At breakfast my gardening brother said, “Well, my +sweet peas are all gone!” “Oh,” I cried in the greatest sympathy, “what +has happened to them?” for he had planted six pounds or more, and they +had come up finely. “Sparrows,” was his laconic reply. I flew to my +boxes on the piazza: they were safe, only through a tiny crack in the +net over one a bird had wriggled its little body, and pulled up and +flung the plants to right and left all over the steps. But my brother’s +long rows, so green last night, were bare except for broken stems and +withering leaves. Alas, it is so much trouble to cover such a large +area with netting, he thought this time he would trust to luck, or +Providence, or whatever one chooses to call it, but it is a fatal thing +to do. Now he has to plant all over again, even though I shall share my +boxes with him, and it will make his garden very late indeed. This time +he will not fail to put nets over all! I sat on the piazza sheltered +from the rain and watched the birds. Unmindful of the tempest, they +skipped gayly round the garden, over and round the steps, examined +all the tucked up boxes of Sweet Peas, wished they could get in, but +finding it out of the question gave it up and resigned themselves to +the inevitable. To and fro, here and there they went, peering into +every nook and corner, behind every leaf and stick and board and +stalk, busily pecking away and devouring something with the greatest +industry. I drew nearer to discover what it could be, and to my great +joy found it was the slugs which the rain had called forth from their +hiding-places; the birds were working the most comprehensive slaughter +among them. At that pleasing sight I forgave them on the spot all their +trespasses against me. + +15th. A thick fog wrapped the world in dimness early this morning; +at eight o’clock it was rolling off and piling itself in glorious +headlands over the coast, gleaming snow white in the sun, but here +and there thin silver strips lay across distant sails and islands, +lingering as if loath to leave the earth for the sky. I took the +baskets of plants I had found necessary to dig up to give the rest +room, and paddled across to the next island in a little lapstreaked +dory, to give them to my neighbors for their flower plots. Great is the +pleasure in the giving and the taking. It was such a heavenly morning, +so blue and calm after the tumult of yesterday! Along the far-off coast +the joyous hills seemed laughing in the sunshine, and the great sea +rippled all over with smiles. + +From the low shores of the islands came the singing of the birds over +the still water, with an indescribably quiet and peaceful effect, and +as I rowed into the cove of my destination, passing the coasts of the +little island called Malaga, I saw outlined against the sky the lovely +grasses already blossoming among the rocks. A kingbird sat on a bowlder +and meditated; there was no tree, so he was fain to be content with +a rock to sit on. I passed him almost near enough to touch him with +my oar, but he did not stir, not he! My errand done and the plants +distributed, I hastened back to my own dear little plot again, and up +and down all the paths I went, digging out every unwelcome root of +grass, plantain, mallow, catnip, clover, and the rest, once more raking +them clear and clean. Outside, in a bed by itself, I sunk four pots of +repotted Chrysanthemums, to be ready for the windows in early winter. +All along the piazza are the house plants waiting to be attended to, +cut back, repotted, and the soil enriched for winter blooming. Every +day I attend to them, a few at a time. I cannot spare much time from +my planting, weeding, watering, transplanting, and so forth, in the +garden, but soon they will be all done. Began to transplant a few of +the hundreds of the main body of Sweet Pea plants into the ground, +carefully covering each bed as I finished with breadths of light +mosquito netting to make them sparrow-proof. As I was working busily +I heard the sweet calling of curlews, and looking up saw six of them +wheeling overhead. Such sociable birds! They replied to my challenge +as if I had been one of themselves, and as long as their calls were +answered, lingered near, but being forgotten presently drifted off on +the wind, their clear whistle sounding fainter and fainter as they were +lost in the distance. All the rest of this day was spent in setting out +Sweet Peas, and it will take more than a whole day more to finish, for +I put them all round against the fence outside, and into every space +I can spare for them within. After tea I hunted slugs as usual, and +scattered ashes and lime, but I really feel that my friends the toads +have done me the inestimable favor of reducing their hideous numbers, +for certainly there are less than last year so far. Early in April, +as I was vigorously hoeing in a corner, I unearthed a huge toad, to +my perfect delight and satisfaction; he had lived all winter, he had +doubtless fed on slugs all the autumn. I could have kissed him on the +spot! Very carefully I placed him in the middle of a large green clump +of tender Columbine. He really wasn’t more than half awake, after his +long winter nap, but he was alive and well, and when later I went to +look after him, lo! he had crept off, perhaps to snuggle into the earth +once more for another nap, till the sun should have a little more power. + +To our great joy the frogs that we imported last year are also alive. +We heard the soft rippling of their voices with the utmost pleasure; +it is a lovely liquid-sweet sound. They have not lived over a winter +here before. We feared that the vicinity of so much salt water might be +injurious to them, but this year they have survived, and perhaps they +may be established for good. + +May 20th. All the past days have been filled with transplanting and the +most vigorous weeding. In these five days the Sweet Peas have grown +so tall I was obliged to go after sticks for them to-day, wheeling my +light wheelbarrow up over the hill and across the island toward the +south, where among the old ruined walls of cellars and houses, and +little, almost erased garden plots, the thick growth of Bayberry and +Elder offered me all the sticks I needed. Such a charming business was +this! So beautiful the narrow road all the way, bordered by the lovely +Shadbush in bridal white, the delicate red Cherry with flowers so like +Hawthorn as to be frequently mistaken for it, the pink Chokecherry, +the common Wild Cherry (which seems to attract to itself most of +the caterpillars in the land), all blossoming for dear life, and +among thickets of Blackberry, Raspberry, Gooseberry, Wild Currant, +Winterberry, Spirea, and I know not what, such crowds of flowers! The +last of the gay golden Erythroniums, the Dogtooth Violets, dancing in +the breeze; the large, softly colored Anemones, now nearing their end; +the banks of pearly Eyebrights; the white Violets, lowly and fragrant; +the straw-colored Uvularia; the ivory spikes of Solomon’s Seal, just +breaking into bloom, with its companion, the starry Trientalis; the +tufts of Fern in cool clefts of rocks,--of these I gathered several +clumps for my fernery in the shade of the piazza. It would take too +long to tell of all the flowers I saw, but one more I must mention. +At the upper edge of a little cove at the southwest, where the old +settlement of more than a hundred years ago was thickest, the earth was +blue with the pretty Gill-go-over-the-ground, its charming blossoms +covering the green turf and cropping out among the loose stones,--a +dear, quaint little flower in two shades of blue marked with rich +red-purple. It was too early for the Pimpernel to be in bloom, but the +pink Herb Robert was out, the smallest of all the Geranium family, +and I saw ranks of Goldenrod more than a foot high getting ready for +autumn. To tell all I saw and all I loved and rejoiced in would take +a whole day. Oh, the green and brown and golden mosses, the lovely, +lowly growths along the way, and oh, the birds that sang and the waves +that leaped and murmured along the shore! The sweet sky and the soft +clouds, the far sails, the full joy of the summer morning, who shall +tell it? I was so happy trundling home my barrow load of sticks piled +to toppling, and finally tipping it up at the garden gate! It took the +whole afternoon to stick the Peas, and I enjoyed every moment of it. +Before putting the dry brittle branches in the ground, with a small, +light hoe I went all over and through the earth about the Sweet Peas, +uprooting chickweed and clover, pigweed and dogfennel, till there +was not a weed to be seen near them. When night fell I had only just +finished this pleasant work. + +21st. Weeding all day in the hot sun; hard work, but pleasant. I find +it the best way to lay two boards down near the plot I have to weed, +and on them spread a waterproof, or piece of carpet, and kneeling or +half reclining on this, get my face as close to my work as possible. +Sitting flat on these boards, I weed all within my reach, then roll up +a bit of carpet not bigger than a flat-iron holder, put it at the edge +of the space I have cleared, and lean my elbow on it; that gives me +another arm’s-length that I can reach over, and so I go on till all is +done. I move the rest for my elbow here and there as needed among the +flowers. It takes me longer to weed than most people, because I will +do it so thoroughly. It is such a pleasure and satisfaction to clear +the beautiful brown earth, smooth and soft, from these rough growths, +leaving the beautiful green Poppies and Larkspurs and Pinks and Asters, +and the rest, in undisturbed possession! Now come the potent heats that +preface summer, and everything grows and expands so fast, the process +of thinning the crowded plants must begin forthwith. Oh, for days +twice as long! Yet these approach the longest days of the year. + +22d. Another glorious day of heat; the sun fairly drove me into the +shade to work among the house plants on the piazza. Hot, hot, and +bright, and outside the garden growing things begin to pine for +showers. When the sun declined toward the west in the afternoon, I +sat in the shade and from the veranda turned the hose with its fine +sprinkler all over the garden. Oh, the joy of it! The delicious scents +from earth and leaves, the glitter of drops on the young green, the +gratitude of all the plants at the refreshing bath and draught of +water! The rich red Wallflowers sent up fresh clouds of incense, the +brilliant and delicate Iceland Poppies bowed their lovely heads and +swayed with pleasure at the bright shower. But rain is greatly needed, +searching rain which shall drench the ground and reach the roots, and +give new life to everything. + +[Illustration: _Hollyhocks in Late Summer_] + +23d. Again hot, still, and splendid. Spent all the morning hammering +stakes down into the beds near Hollyhocks, Sunflowers, Larkspurs, +Lilies, Roses, single Dahlias, and all the tall growing things. Many +were tall enough to fasten to the stakes,--all will be, presently. One +enormous red Hollyhock grew thirteen feet high by actual measurement +before it stopped last year, in a corner near the piazza. Oh, but he +was superb! At night the lights from one window streamed through a +leafy arch of clambering vine, and illumined him as he swayed to and +fro in the wind, a stately column of beauty and grace. A black-red +comrade leaned against him and mingled its rich blossoms with his +brighter color, and near him were rose, pink, and cherry, and white +spikes of bloom, lovely to behold. + +All the afternoon weeding and thinning out the plants. The large bank +sloping to the southwest outside the garden is a perfect mass of +flowers to be,--no weeds, for I have conquered them; but it is next to +impossible to pull up plants enough to give all room. Again and again I +have thinned them; now I think I must leave them to their fate and let +it be a case of survival of the fittest. + +24th. Last night, after having given myself the pleasure of watering +the garden, I could not sleep for anxiety about the slugs. I seldom +water the flowers at night because the moisture calls them out, and +they have an orgy feasting on my most precious children all night long. +Before going to bed I went all over the inclosure and, alas, I found +them swarming on the Sweet Peas; baby slugs, tiny creatures covering +the tender leaves and the dry pea-sticks even, thick as grains of +sand. I was in despair, and though I knew they did not mind ashes, I +took the fine sifter and covered Peas, sticks, slugs, and all with +a thick, smothering cloud of wood ashes. Then I left them with many +misgivings and went to bed, but not to sleep, for thinking of them. +At twelve o’clock I said to myself, You know the slugs don’t care a +rap for all the ashes in the world, but the friendly toads may be kept +away by them, and who knows if such a smother of them may not kill the +precious Peas themselves? I could not bear it any longer, rose up and +donned my dressing gown, and out into the dark and dew I bore the hose, +over my shoulders coiled, to the very farthest corners of the garden, +and washed off every atom of ashes in the black midnight, and came back +and slept in peace. + +These are most anxious times on account of the slugs. Now, every +morning when I rise I go at once into the garden at four o’clock and +make a business of slaughtering them till half past five, when I stop +for breakfast. If the day is pleasant they are all hidden by that +time, for they dread so the touch of the sun. But in the hoary morning +dew they delight. This is the hardest part of my gardening, and I +rejoice that not one person in a thousand has this plague of slugs +to fight. It is so difficult to destroy them; to see their countless +legions and feel so helpless before their numbers, to find one’s most +precious favorites nibbled and ragged, and everything threatened with +destruction is a trial indeed. I carry a large pepper-box filled with +air-slaked lime and shake it over them everywhere. They are so small +this year that it destroys them; they turn milky and miserably perish, +but the next morning there are just as many more to take their places. +Still I patiently persevere, carefully washing off the lime, so anxious +lest it should harm the plants, and killing by hand all the larger +monsters. + +In that most charming old book, Gilbert White’s “Natural History +of Selborne,” I find he speaks of these arch enemies of mine as +“unnoticed myriads of small shell-less snails called slugs, which +silently and imperceptibly make amazing havoc in field and garden;” +adding in a note, “Farmer Young of Norton Farm says that this spring +(1777) about four acres of his wheat in one field were entirely +destroyed by the slugs, which swarmed on the blades of corn and +devoured it as fast as it sprung.” + +Poor Farmer Young! I deeply sympathize with him and his long buried +trouble! + +Again White says: “The shell-less snails called slugs are in motion all +winter in mild weather and commit great depredations on garden plants, +and much injure the green wheat.” + +There was a happy time when such a thing as a slug was unknown on my +island, and I well remember the first that were brought here among some +Moonflowers that were imported from a distant green-house. I saw them +adhering to the outside of the flower-pots and did not kill them, never +dreaming what powers of evil they would become! + +25th. Every day the garden grows more interesting, more fascinating. +Buds full of promise show themselves on the single Dahlias whose seeds +were only planted in February; on the Rose Campions, the perennial +kind, on the tall white Lilies. The Hollyhocks are thick with buds, +and rich spikes head all the boughs of the Larkspurs, and as for the +Roses, they are simply wonderful. The Tea Roses are loaded with buds; +on one of the Polyanthas that lived all winter in the ground I counted +fifty-two, and it is a tiny bush not more than a foot high. The dear +old Sweet Rocket is blossoming in every corner, sending up its grateful +perfume. Now come days of great anxiety about the Margaret Carnations +that I have so loved and watched and tended since the first of March. +They were splendid plants, full of health and strength and all ready +to bloom. Alas, I saw, a day or two ago, the leaves turning yellow. +I knew too well what that meant. There was but one thing to do. Down +on my knees I went this morning, and bringing my face close to the +ground, began pulling apart the central shoot in each plant, where +the sickly color hung its flag of distress for a signal. Down, down a +cruel length, into the very heart and core of each precious stem I tore +my reluctant way to find that abomination of which I was in search, +namely, a short fat lively white worm; for him I probed and brought +him up on the point of a pin, and having a small quantity of alcohol +at hand for the purpose, dropped him into it forthwith, for instant +and complete destruction. Over forty of these beasts did I destroy, +and left the tattered Pinks to rest and recover, if they could, poor +things, after such a terrible experience! These worms seem made for all +fragrant Pinks; as far as my experience goes they never attack anything +else. How in the world, I wonder, do they know where the Carnations +are planted and when to come for them? Such a scene of devastation as +is my pretty bed of Pinks of which I was so proud, dwarfed and yellow, +with their gnawed-off leaves strewn about all over the ground! But +they will put out side shoots and patiently strive to fulfill heaven’s +intent for them, of which they are conscious from the least root-tip to +the end of every battered leaf. There is something pathetic as well as +wonderful in the way in which these growing things of almost all kinds +meet disaster and discouragement. Should they suffer misfortune like +this,--the lopping of a limb, or the losing of buds, or any sapping +of their vitality,--if the cause is removed, they will try so hard to +repair damages, send out new shoots, make strenuous efforts to recover +the lost ground, and still perfect blossom and fruit as nature meant +they should. There is a lesson to be learned of them on which I have +often pondered. + +June 3d. This has been an exciting day, for the Water Lilies I sent +for a week ago came in a mysterious damp box across the ocean foam! I +had made their tubs all ready for them, putting in the bottom of each +the “well-rotted manure,” and over this rich earth and sand mixed in +proper proportions. These tubs, or rather large, tall butter firkins, +stood ready in their places along the sunniest and most sheltered bed +in the garden. Oh, the pleasure of opening that box and finding each +unfamiliar treasure packed so carefully in wet moss, each folded in +oiled paper to keep it moist, and each labeled with its fascinating +name! The great pink Lotus of Egypt, the purple Lily of Zanzibar, and +the red one of the same sort, the golden Chromatella, the pure white +African variety and the smaller native white one, the yellow Water +Poppy and the little exquisite plant called Parrot’s Feather, that +creeps all about over the water and has the wonderful living, metallic +green of the plumage of the handsome green parrots. These, with the +flourishing Water Hyacinth I already had growing in its tub on the +steps, and the bright pink Cape Cod Lily, make ten tubs of water +plants,--a most breathlessly interesting family! And I must not forget +another tub of seedling Water-Lilies that I am watching with the most +intense interest also. It took most of the long, happy day to plant +all these in the rich wet mud and settle them in their comfortable +quarters. I laid some horseshoes I had picked up at different times, +and saved, round the roots to hold them down temporarily, while I +gently flooded the tubs with water and rejoiced to see the lovely +leaves float out on the surface fresh as if they were at home. Then +I sifted clean beach sand over the earth about them, to the depth of +an inch or more, to hold the soil down and keep the water clear, and +all was done. What delight to look forward to the watching and tending +of these new friends! I find myself wondering what enemy will attack +these, for surely something has been made for their destruction, which +I must fight! There is not a growing thing in the garden that has not +its enemies and destroyers, fortunate if it has only one. Just at this +time there is a rampant little snuff-colored spider which comes in +from the grass and fastens upon tender growths in the borders about +the house, covering the succulent leaves and stems of Wild Cucumbers +and Morning-glories, and even Nasturtiums and Cornflowers, so thickly +that the plant is not to be seen at all for them; they are like a +brown glove over every leaf, and they suck every drop of sap out of +the plant, leaving it perfectly white. They are fatal on the Sweet +Peas, of which they are especially fond. No poison known to me has the +slightest effect on them; nothing but water turned on with the hose in +floods disturbs them. This washes them away for the time being. It has +to be repeated, however, many times a day, for they recover from their +drenching and return to their work of devastation with renewed vigor. +Fortunately these do not, like the slugs, last forever; they are gone +in less than six weeks; but they keep me busy indeed while they stay. + +I am obliged to spend a good deal of time just now hunting and +destroying different bugs and worms and so forth. The blue-green aphis +appears on certain precious Honeysuckle buds, and must be vigorously +syringed with fir-tree oil before he gets a foothold and spreads his +hideous legions everywhere. Also the lively worm that ties the Rose +leaves together and gobbles them up and hides in a web within them, +that I may find and crush him; and the white thrip which calls for +hellebore, on the under side of them, and many more, must be attended +to before they wax strong and bold in their villainy and defy me. A +curious plague, if I may call it so, has come upon the little garden, +in the shape of the delicious edible mushrooms, Coprinus Comatus, +which come up all over the place and with slow strength heave the +ground and my flowers into heaps, thrusting handsome long ivory-white, +umbrella-shaped heads on stems a foot long, up high above and over most +things in the beds. But these are eaten as soon as they appear, and are +not such a very great trial, though I would rather they left my dear +flowers undisturbed. + + + + +[Illustration] + +[Illustration] + +Much thought should be given to the garden’s arrangement with regard +to economy of room, where one has but a small space to devote to it. +And where one is unfamiliar with the habits of growth of the various +plants that are to people it, a difficulty arises in making them +effective and so disposing them that they shall not interfere with +each other. For instance, in most cases tall plants should be put +back against walls and fences and so forth, with the lower-growing +varieties in the foreground. If one were to plant Verbenas and Venidium +among Sunflowers and Hollyhocks, or even among Carnation Poppies and +Cornflowers, Verbenas and Venidium would not be visible, for their +habit is to creep close to the ground, and the tall growths would +completely hide and most likely exterminate them, by shutting from them +the sun and air without which they cannot live. These low, creeping +plants are, however, very useful when one is planning for a succession +of flowers. I plant Pansies, Verbenas, Drummond’s Phlox, and so forth, +among my Pinks and Wallflowers and others of like compact habit, so +that, when the higher slender plants have done blossoming, the others, +which seldom cease flowering till frost, may still clothe the ground +with color and beauty. Of course it goes without saying that climbing +Vines should not be set where there is nothing upon which they may +climb. Indeed that would be simple cruelty--nothing more nor less. +Everything that needs it should be given a support without fail--all +the myriad lovely Vines that one may have with so little trouble, and +which seem to have been made to wreathe the dwellings of men with +freshness and beauty and grace. The long list of varieties of flowering +Clematis, so many shapes and colors, the numerous Honeysuckles, the +Wistaria, Passion-flowers, Morning-glories, Hops, the Dutchman’s +Pipe, the Cobœas, Woodbine, and many others, not counting Sweet Peas +and Nasturtiums,--these last among the most beautiful and decorative +of all,--every one is twice as valuable if given the support it +demands. In the case of Nasturtiums, however, which seem with endless +good-nature ready to adapt themselves to any conditions of existence, +except, perhaps, being expected to live in a swamp, it is not so +important that they should have something upon which to climb. A very +good way is to put them near a rock one wishes to have covered, or to +let them run down a bank upon which nothing else cares to grow. They +will clothe such places with wild and beautiful luxuriance of green +leaves and glowing flowers. + +It seems strange to write a book about a little garden only fifty feet +long by fifteen wide! But then, as a friend pleasantly remarked to me, +“it extends upward,” and what it lacks in area is more than compensated +by the large joy that grows out of it and its uplifting and refreshment +of “the Spirit of Man.” + +I have made a plan of this minute domain to show how it may be possible +to accomplish much within such narrow compass, and also to give an idea +of an advantageous method of grouping in a space so confined. I have +not room to experiment with rockworks and ribbon-borders and the like, +nor should I do it even if I had all the room in the world. For mine is +just a little old-fashioned garden where the flowers come together to +praise the Lord and teach all who look upon them to do likewise. + +[Illustration: PLAN OF GARDEN WITH LIST OF FLOWERS + +(Piazza) + + 1 Akebia Quinata + 2 Asa Gray Nasturtiums + 3 Asters + 4 Asters and Lavatera + 5 Bachelors’ Buttons + 6 Bride Poppies + 7 Clematis, white + 8 Clematis, blue + 9 Cleome Pungens + 10 Columbine + 11 Coreopsis Coronata and Cornflowers + 12 Coreopsis Lanceolata + 13 Crimson Phlox + 14 Damask Rose + 15 Echinocystus Lobata + 16 Foxgloves + 17 Golden Banner Coreopsis + 18 Helianthus + 19 Hollyhocks + 20 Honeysuckles + 21 Hop + 22 Hugelia + 23 Iceland Poppies + 24 Jacqueminot, Damask, and La France Roses + 25 Japan Honeysuckles + 36 Japan Hop + 27 Larkspur + 28 Lavender + 29 Lilies + 30 Love-in-a-Mist + 31 Margaret Pinks + 32 Marigolds + 33 Mignonette + 34 Oriental Poppy + 35 Peonies + 36 Picotee Pinks + 37 Poppies + 38 Rose-colored Iceland Poppies + 39 Rose Campion + 40 Scotch Roses + 41 Shirley Poppies + 42 Single Dahlias + 43 Snowdrops, etc. + 44 Sweet Peas + 45 Sweet Rocket + 46 Sweet William + 47 Sunflowers + 48 Tall Phlox + 49 Tea Roses + 50 Travelers’ Joy + 51 Verbenas + 52 Vines + 53 Violets + 54 Wallflowers + 55 Water Lilies + 56 White Lilies + 57 Wistaria + +NOTE.--The garden is 50 ft. long by 15 ft. wide, and is surrounded +by a border of all sorts of mixed flowers. A bank of flowers at the +southwest corner slopes from the garden fence.] + +All through the months of April and May, when the weather is not simply +impossible, I am at work in it, and also through most of June. It is +wonderful how much work one can find to do in so tiny a plot of ground. +But in the latter weeks of June there comes a time when I can begin +to take breath and rest a little from these difficult yet pleasant +labors; an interval when I may take time to consider, a morning when +I may seek the hammock in the shady piazza, and, looking across my +happy flower beds, let the sweet day sink deep into my heart. From +the flower beds I look over the island slopes to the sea, and realize +it all,--the rapture of growth, the delicious shades of green that +clothe the ground, Wild Rose, Bayberry, Spirea, Shadbush, Elder, and +many more. How beautiful they are, these grassy, rocky slopes shelving +gradually to the sea, with here and there a mass of tall, blossoming +grass softly swaying in the warm wind against the peaceful, pale blue +water! Among the grass a few ghostly dandelion tops yet linger, with +now and then a belated golden flower. How lovely is the delicacy of +the white bleached rocks, the little spaces of shallow soil exquisite +with vivid crimson Sorrel, or pearly with the brave Eyebright, all +against the soft color of the sea. What harmony of movement in all +these radiant growths just stirred by the gentle air! Here and there +a stout little bough of Chokecherry, with clustered white blossoms +tipped with pink, springing from a cleft in the rock, lights up in +sunshine, its pink more glowing for the turquoise background of the +ocean. How hot the sun blazes! The Blue-eyed Grass is quite faint +and drooping in the rich turf, but the yellow Crowfoot shines strong +and steady; no sunshine is too bright for it. In the garden the tall +Jacqueminot Rosebushes gather power from the great warmth and light, +and hold out their thick buds to absorb it and fold its splendor in +their inmost hearts. One or two of the heaviest buds begin to loosen +their crimson velvet petals and shed their delicious perfume on the +air. The Oriental Poppy glories in the heat. Among its buds, thrust +upward like solid green apples, one has burst into burning flame, each +of its broad fiery petals as large as the whole inside of my hand. In +the Iceland Poppy bed the ardent light has wooed a graceful company +of drooping buds to blow, and their cups of delicate fire, orange +and yellow, sway lightly on stems as slender as grass. In sheltered +corners the Forget-me-not spreads its cool, heaven-blue clusters; by +the fence “the Larkspurs listen” while they wait; the large purple +Pansies shrink and turn from the too brilliant gaze of the sun. Rose +Campions, Tea Roses, Mignonette, Marigolds, Coreopsis, the rows of +Sweet Peas, the broad-leaved Hollyhocks and the rest, rejoice and grow +visibly with every moment of the glorious day. Clematis and Honeysuckle +almost seem to hurry, Nasturtiums reach their shield-like leaves and +wind the stems thereof round any and every stick and string they can +touch by which to lift themselves, here and there showing their first +glowing flowers, and climbing eagerly. The long large buds of the white +Clematis, the earliest of all, are swelling visibly before my eyes, +and the buds of the early June Honeysuckle are reddening at the end of +every spray. In one corner a tall purple Columbine hangs its myriad +clustered bells; each flower has six shell-like whorls set in a circle, +colored like rich amethysts and lined with lustrous silver, white as +frost. Cornflowers like living sparks of exquisite color, rose and +azure, white and purple, twinkle all over the place, and the heavenly +procession begins in good earnest. The Grapevine smooths out its young +leaves,--they are woolly and crimson; the wind blows and shows me their +grayish-white under surfaces. I think of Browning’s tender song, the +verse,-- + + “The leaf buds on the vine are woolly, + I noticed that to-day, + One day more bursts them open fully, + You know the red turns gray.” + +The Echinocystus plants that have sprung in thick ranks along the edge +of the beds against the piazza are fairly storming up the trellis, +having sown themselves in the autumn; they have just really begun to +take firm hold, and are climbing hand over hand, as sailors do, with +their strong green tendrils stretching out like arms and hands to right +and left, laying hold of every available thing by which to cling and +spring upward to the very eaves. There in August they form a closely +woven curtain of lush, light green, overhung with large, loose clusters +of starry white flowers having a pure, delicious fragrance like honey +and the wax of the comb. + +Now come the most perfect days of the year, blue days, hot on the +continent, but heavenly here, where the cool breeze breathes round the +islands from the great expanse of whispering water. Delightful it is to +lie here and rest and realize all this beauty and rejoice in all its +joy! The distant coast-line is dim in soft mirage. + + “Half lost in the liquid azure bloom of a crescent of sea, + The silent, sapphire-spangled, marriage-ring of the land.” + +[Illustration: _The Bride_] + +It lies so lovely, far away! At its edge the water is glassy calm, the +houses and large, glimmering piles of buildings along its whole length +show white in the hot haze; in the offing the far-off sails are half +lost in this shimmering veil; farther out there is a soft wind +blowing; little fishing-boats with their sails furled lie at anchor +between us and the land, faintly outlined against the delicate tone +of the water. All is so still! I hear a bee go blundering into the +Bachelor’s Buttons that hold up their flowers to the sun like small, +compact yellow Roses. Suddenly comes a gush of the song-sparrow’s +music, but father martin sits at his door very quiet; it is too hot +on the red roof of his little house, so he sits at its portal and +meditates while his small wife broods within, only now and then from +his pretty throat pours a low ripple of sound, melodiously content. I +am conscious of the sandpiper calling and the full tide murmuring, and +I, too, am content. + +Outside the garden fence it is as if the flowers had broken their +bounds and were rushing down the sloping bank in a torrent of yellow, +where the early Artemisias and Eschscholtzias are hastening into bloom, +overflowing in a flood of gold that, lightly stirred by every breeze, +sends a satin shimmer to the sun. Eschscholtzia--it is an ugly name +for a most lovely flower. California Poppy is much better. Down into +the sweet plot I go and gather a few of these, bringing them to my +little table and sitting down before them the better to admire and +adore their beauty. In the slender green glass in which I put them +they stand clothed in their delicate splendor. One blossom I take in +a loving hand the more closely to examine it, and it breathes a glory +of color into sense and spirit which is enough to kindle the dullest +imagination. The stems and fine thread-like leaves are smooth and cool +gray-green, as if to temper the fire of the blossoms, which are smooth +also, unlike almost all other Poppies, that are crumpled past endurance +in their close green buds, and make one feel as if they could not wait +to break out of the calyx and loosen their petals to the sun, to be +soothed into even tranquillity of beauty by the touches of the air. +Every cool gray-green leaf is tipped with a tiny line of red, every +flower-bud wears a little pale-green pointed cap like an elf, and in +the early morning, when the bud is ready to blow, it pushes off the +pretty cap and unfolds all its loveliness to the sun. Nothing could +be more picturesque than this fairy cap, and nothing more charming +than to watch the blossom push it off and spread its yellow petals, +slowly rounding to the perfect cup. As I hold the flower in my hand +and think of trying to describe it, I realize how poor a creature I +am, how impotent are words in the presence of such perfection. It is +held upright upon a straight and polished stem, its petals curving +upward and outward into the cup of light, pure gold with a lustrous +satin sheen; a rich orange is painted on the gold, drawn in infinitely +fine lines to a point in the centre of the edge of each petal, so +that the effect is that of a diamond of flame in a cup of gold. It is +not enough that the powdery anthers are orange bordered with gold; +they are whirled about the very heart of the flower like a revolving +Catherine-wheel of fire. In the centre of the anthers is a shining +point of warm sea-green, a last, consummate touch which makes the +beauty of the blossom supreme. Another has the orange suffused through +the gold evenly, almost to the outer edges of the petals, which are +left in bright, light yellow with a dazzling effect. Turning the flower +and looking at it from the outside, it has no calyx, but the petals +spring from a simple pale-green disk, which must needs be edged with +sea-shell pink for the glory of God! The fresh splendor of this flower +no tongue nor pen nor brush of mortal man can fitly represent. + +Who indeed shall adequately describe any one, the simplest even, of +these radiant beings? Day after day, as I watch them appear, one +variety after another, in such endless changes of delicate beauty, +I can but marvel ever more and more at the exhaustless power of the +great Inventor. Must He not enjoy the work of His hands, the manifold +perfection of these His matchless creations? Who can behold the +unfolding of each new spring and all its blossoms without feeling +the renewal of “God’s ancient rapture,” of which Browning speaks in +“Paracelsus”? In that immortal rapture, I, another of his creatures, +less obedient in fulfilling His laws of beauty than are these lovely +beings, do humbly share, reflecting it with all the powers of my spirit +and rejoicing in His work with an exceeding joy. + +As the days go on toward July, the earth becomes dry and all the +flowers begin to thirst for moisture. Then from the hillside, some +warm, still evening, the sweet rain-song of the robin echoes clear, and +next day we wake to a dim morning; soft flecks of cloud bar the sun’s +way, fleecy vapors steal across the sky, the southwest wind blows +lightly, rippling the water into little waves that murmur melodiously +as they kiss the shore. In this warm gray, brooding light I am reminded +of Tennyson’s subtle description of such a daybreak:-- + + “When the first low matin chirp hath grown + Full quire, and morning driven her plough of pearl + Far furrowing into light the mounded rack, + Beyond the fair green field and eastern sea.” + +Through the early hours of the day the mottled, pearly clouds keep +their shape, with delicious open spaces of tempered blue between; +by and by the sky’s tender fleece is half shadowed, toward noon it +melts into loose mists. Color everywhere tells against these pellucid +grays,--the gold of Lemon Lilies, the flame of Iceland Poppies, all the +sweet tints of every blossom. Presently the happy rain begins to fall, +so soft, so warm, so peaceful, the very sound of it is a pleasure; +every leaf in the patient garden, which has waited for the shower so +long, spreads itself wide to catch each crystal drop and treasure its +deep refreshment. All day it rains; at night the melody lulls us to +sleep as it patters on the roof. In the night the wind changes, and +next day brings a northeast storm again with a wild wind, but from this +the little flower plot is well protected, and I rejoice in the thorough +watering deep down among their roots which is doing all the plants +unmeasured good. Two, perhaps three days, it lasts, the gale blowing +till there is such contention of winds and waves about the little isle +as to make a ceaseless roaring of wild breakers round its shores. When +at last the tempest wears itself out, what delight there is in the +great tranquillity that follows it, what music in the soft, far murmurs +of ceasing strife in air and ocean, spent wrath that seems to breathe +yet in an undertone, half sullen, half relenting, while the broad +yellow light that lies over sea and rocks in stillness, like a quiet +smile, promises a heavenly day on the morrow. + +Then, with what fresh wealth of color and perfume the garden will +meet the resplendent sunrise! Every moment it grows more and more +beautiful. I think for wondrous variety, for certain picturesque +qualities, for color and form and a subtle mystery of character, +Poppies seem, on the whole, the most satisfactory flowers among the +annuals. There is absolutely no limit to their variety of color. They +are the tenderest lilac, the deepest crimson, richest scarlet, white +with softest suffusion of rose; all shades of rose, clear light pink +with sea-green centre, the anthers in a golden halo about it; black +and fire-color; red that is deepened to black, with gray reflections; +cherry-color, with a cross of creamy white at the bottom of the cup, +and round its central altar of ineffable golden green again the halo +of yellow anthers; purple, with rich splashes of a deeper shade of the +same color, with grayish white rays about the centre; all shades of +lavender and lilac; exquisite smoke-color, in some cases delicately +touched and freaked with red; some pure light gray, some of these gray +ones edged with crimson or scarlet; there are all tints of mauve. To +tell all the combinations of their wonderful hues, or even half, would +be quite impossible, from the simple transparent scarlet bell of the +wild Poppy to the marvelous pure white, the wonder of which no tongue +can tell. Oh, these white Poppies, some with petals more delicate than +the finest tissue paper, with centres of bright gold, some of thicker +quality, large, shell-like petals, almost ribbed in their effect, +their green knob in the middle like a boss upon a shield, rayed about +with beautiful grayish yellow stamens, as in the kind called the +Bride. Others--they call this kind the Snowdrift--have thick double +flowers, deeply cut and fringed at the edges, the most opaque white, +and full of exquisite shadows. Then there are the Icelanders, which +Lieutenant Peary found making gay the frosty fields of Greenland, in +buttercup-yellow and orange and white; the great Orientals, gorgeous +beyond expression; the immense single white California variety. I could +not begin to name them all in the longest summer’s day! The Thorn +Poppy, Argemone, is a fascinating variety, most quaint in method of +growth and most decorative. As for the Shirleys, they are children of +the dawn, and inherit all its delicate, vivid, delicious suffusions of +rose-color in every conceivable shade. Of the Poppy one of the great +masters of English prose discourses in this wise. Speaking of the +common wild Poppy of the English fields, which grows broadcast also +over most of Europe, he says: “The splendor of it is proud, almost +insolently so,” which immediately brings to mind Browning’s lines in +“Sordello,”-- + + “The Poppy’s red effrontery, + Till autumn spoils its fleering quite with rain, + And portionless, a dry, brown, rattling crane + Protrudes.” + +[Illustration: _Poppy Bank in the Early Morning_] + +Papaver Rhœas is the common wild scarlet Poppy that both these writers +describe. John Ruskin says: “I have in my hand a small red Poppy +which I gathered on Whit Sunday in the palace of the Cæsars. It is +an intensely simple, intensely floral flower. All silk and flame, a +scarlet cup, perfect edged all round, seen among the wild grass far +away like a burning coal fallen from Heaven’s altars. You cannot have +a more complete, a more stainless type of flower absolute; inside +and outside, all flower. No sparing of color anywhere, no outside +coarsenesses, no interior secrecies, open as the sunshine that creates +it; fine finished on both sides, down to the extremest point of +insertion on its narrow stalk, and robed in the purple of the Cæsars.... + +“Literally so. That Poppy scarlet, so far as could be painted by mortal +hand, for mortal king, stays yet, against the sun and wind and rain, on +the walls of the house of Augustus, a hundred yards from the spot where +I gathered the weed of its desolation.... The flower in my hand is a +poverty _stricken_ Poppy, I was going to write, poverty _strengthened_ +Poppy, I mean. On richer ground it would have gushed into flaunting +breadth of untenable purple; flapped its inconsistent scarlet vaguely +to the wind; dropped the pride of its petals over my hand in an hour +after I gathered it. But this little rough-bred thing ... is as bright +and strong to-day as yesterday.... What outline its petals really have +is little shown in their crumpled fluttering, but that very crumpling +arises from a fine floral character which we do not enough value in +them. We usually think of a Poppy as a coarse flower; but it is the +most transparent and delicate of all the blossoms of the field. The +rest, nearly all of them, depend on the texture of their surfaces for +color. But the Poppy is painted glass; it never glows so brightly as +when the sun shines through it. Wherever it is seen, against the light +or with the light, always it is a flame, and warms the wind like a +blown ruby.... Gather a green Poppy bud, just when it shows the scarlet +line at its side, break it open and unpack the Poppy. The whole flower +is there complete in size and color, its stamens full grown, but all +packed so closely that the fine silk of the petals is crushed into a +million of wrinkles. When the flower opens, it seems a relief from +torture; the two imprisoning green leaves are shaken to the ground, the +aggrieved corolla smooths itself in the sun and comforts itself as best +it can, but remains crushed and hurt to the end of its days.” + +I know of no flower that has so many charming tricks and manners, +none with a method of growth more picturesque and fascinating. The +stalks often take a curve, a twist from some current of air or some +impediment, and the fine stems will turn and bend in all sorts of +graceful ways, but the bud is always held erect when the time comes for +it to blossom. Ruskin quotes Lindley’s definition of what constitutes +a Poppy, which he thinks “might stand.” This is it: “A Poppy is a +flower which has either four or six petals, and two or more treasuries +united in one, containing a milky, stupefying fluid in its stalks and +leaves, and always throwing away its calyx when it blossoms.” + +I muse over their seed-pods, those supremely graceful urns that are +wrought with such matchless elegance of shape, and think what strange +power they hold within. Sleep is there, and Death his brother, +imprisoned in those mystic sealed cups. There is a hint of their +mystery in their shape of sombre beauty, but never a suggestion in +the fluttering blossom; it is the gayest flower that blows. In the +more delicate varieties the stalks are so slender, yet so strong, like +fine grass stems, when you examine them you wonder how they hold even +the light weight of the flower so firmly and proudly erect. They are +clothed with the finest of fine hairs up and down the stalks, and over +the green calyx, especially in the Iceland varieties, where these hairs +are of a lovely red-brown color and add much to their beauty. + +It is plain to see, as one gazes over the Poppy beds on some sweet +evening at sunset, what buds will bloom in the joy of next morning’s +first sunbeams, for these will be lifting themselves heavenward, slowly +and silently, but surely. To stand by the beds at sunrise and see the +flowers awake is a heavenly delight. As the first long, low rays of +the sun strike the buds, you know they feel the signal! A light air +stirs among them; you lift your eyes, perhaps to look at a rosy cloud +or follow the flight of a caroling bird, and when you look back again, +lo! the calyx has fallen from the largest bud and lies on the ground, +two half transparent, light green shells, leaving the flower petals +wrinkled in a thousand folds, just released from their close pressure. +A moment more and they are unclosing before your eyes. They flutter out +on the gentle breeze like silken banners to the sun, and such a color! +The orange of the Iceland Poppy is the most ineffable color; it “warms +the wind” indeed! I know no tint like it; it is orange dashed with +carmine, most like the reddest coals of an intensely burning fire. Look +at this exquisite cup: the wind has blown nearly smooth the crinkled +petals; these, where they meet in the centre, melt into a delicate +greenish yellow. In the heart of the blossom rises a round green altar, +its sides penciled with nine black lines, and a nine-rayed star of +yellow velvet clasps the flat, pure green top. From the base of this +altar springs the wreath of stamens and anthers; the inner circle of +these is generally white, the outer yellow, and all held high and clear +within the cup. The radiant effect of this arrangement against the +living red cannot be told. + +The Californias put out their clean, polished, pointed buds straight +up to the sun from the first, but all the others have this fashion of +drooping theirs till the evening before they blow. There is a kind of +triumph in the way they do this, lifting their treasured splendor yet +safe within its clasping calyx to be ready to meet the first beams of +the day. + +The Orientals are glorious, even in the victorious family of Poppies. +Ruskin has a chapter on “The Rending of Leaves.” I always think of it +when I see the large, hairy, rich green leaves of this variety, which +are deeply “rent,” almost the whole width of the leaf to the midrib. +These leaves grow somewhat after the fashion of a Dandelion, spreading +several feet in all directions from the centre, which sends up in June +immense flower-stalks crowned with heavy apple-like buds, that elongate +as they increase in size, till some morning the thick calyx breaks and +falls, and the great scarlet flags of the flower unfold. There is a +kind of angry brilliance about it, a sombre and startling magnificence. +Its large petals are splashed near the base with broad, irregular +spots of black-purple, as if they had been struck with a brush full +of color. The seed-pod, rising fully an inch high in the centre, is +of a luminous, indescribable shade of green, and folded over its top, +a third of its height, is a cap of rich lavender, laid down in points +evenly about the crown. On the centre of this is a little knob of deep +purple velvet, from which eleven rays of the same color curve over the +top and into each point of the lavender cap. And round this wonderful +seed-pod, with its wealth of elaborate ornament, is a thick girdle of +stamens half an inch deep, with row upon row and circle within circle +of anthers covered with dust of splendid dusky purple, and held each +upon a slender thread of deeper purple still. It is simply superb, +and when the great bush is ablaze with these flowers it is indeed a +conflagration of color. “The fire-engines always turn out when my +Orientals blaze up on the hillside,” writes a flower-loving friend to +me. No garden should be without these, for they flourish with the least +care, are perfectly hardy, and never fail to blossom generously. + + + + +[Illustration] + +[Illustration] + +That every plant should select only its own colors and forms from +the great laboratory of Nature has always seemed to me a very +wonderful thing. Each plant takes from its surroundings just those +qualities which will produce its own especial characteristics and no +others, never hesitating and never making a mistake. For instance, +the California Poppies, if left to themselves, will take yellow of +many resplendent shades for their color, and never vary their cool, +gray-green, red-tipped, foliage; the Peacock Poppy will be always +scarlet-crimson, with a black spot rimmed with white in every petal; +the Corn Poppy will be always clear scarlet; the Bride a miracle +of lustrous white, and so on. Runge, a noted chemist, says: “A +plant is a great chemist: it distinguishes and separates substances +more definitely and accurately than man can, with all his skill, +his intelligence, and his appliances.... The little Daisy, which +has painted its ‘wee crimson-tipped flowers,’ puts the chemist and +scientific man to shame, for it has produced its leaf and stem and +flowers, and has dyed these with their bright colors from materials +which he can never change with all his arts.” + +By what power do they know how to select each its own hue and shape, +when earth and air hold all the tints and forms that the Creator has +invented? The subtle knowledge of plants, instinct perhaps would be a +better word, is astonishing. If you dig a hole in the ground and put +into it a Rosebush, filling one side of the hole with rich earth and +the other with poor soil, every root of that Rosebush will leave the +poor half to inhabit the rich and nourishing portion. That is a matter +of course, but the instinct of the Rose is something to think about, +nevertheless. + +Some one has said, speaking of a tree, “What an immense amount of +vitally organized material has been here gathered together! It is God’s +own architecture! This mass of vegetable matter is only earth and air +that have undergone transmutation. The material alike of wandering +zephyrs and rushing storms, of gently descending night-dews and angry +thunder-showers has been _here, on this spot_, metamorphosed.” + +And I should add that into this piece of architecture God has breathed +a vital spark, almost a mind, so remarkable is the intelligent action +often manifested in many plants and trees. + +A famous Frenchman, Camille Flammarion, says: “I know a maple-tree +which was dying on the ruins of an old wall, a few feet from good +rich earth (the soil in a ditch), and which in despair threw out a +venturesome root, reached the coveted earth, buried itself there, and +gained a solid footing, so that by degrees, although a motionless +thing, it changed its place, let its original roots die, and lived +resuscitated upon the organ that had set it free. I have known elms +which were going to eat up the soil of a fertile field, whose food had +been cut off from them by a wide ditch, and who, therefore, determined +to make their uncut roots pass under the ditch. They succeeded, and +returned to their regular food, much to the cultivator’s astonishment. +I know an heroic Jasmine which went eight times through a board which +kept the light away from it, and which a teasing observer would put +back in the shade, hoping so to wear out the flower’s energy, but he +did not succeed.” + +This happened in France, but here in New England I myself know of a +great Wistaria which grew over one side of a fine old house in an +enchanting garden, and which did something quite as wonderful. It was a +triumph of a vine! The butt or stump, where it emerged from the ground, +was a foot in diameter, and its branches covered one side of the house, +a space of thirty feet by thirty feet. So large a vine required a +great deal of water, so it sent its roots down eight feet under the +foundation of the house, passed along under the brick floor of the +dairy, a distance of fifteen feet, making a solid mat of roots under +the whole floor, reached the well and went straight through the cracks +and crevices of its stone wall to the desired moisture. An elm root in +the same garden went sixty feet or more under the foundation of the +house to that same well. + +To quote another writer who has carefully observed these things: +“Plants have to the full extent of their necessities a power of +observation, of discrimination in the selection of their food, a +knowledge of where it is to be found, and the power to a considerable +extent to obtain it. For instance, if some animal’s remains are buried +in the garden, say twenty feet from the grapevine, the vine will know +it, and the underground part of the vine will at once change its +course and make a direct march for this new storehouse of food, and +upon reaching it will throw out an incredible number of roots for its +consumption.... A weeping willow was planted in a dry, gravelly soil +on the south side of a house, a situation in every respect unsuited +to this tree, which delights in a heavy moist soil; the result was +a slow, stunted growth. After a few years in which it barely lived, +it surprised its owner by a vigorous growth which was as astonishing +as pleasing, and the cause was looked for. It was found the roots in +search of food had traveled under the house a distance of some thirty +feet to the well, where they took a downward course till they reached +the water that furnished the moisture which is essential to the growth +of this tree. + +“The movements of the squash vine when pressed by hunger or thirst are +truly wonderful. During a severe drought if you place a basin of water +at night, say two feet to the left or the right of a strong vine, in +the morning it will be found bathing in the basin! Is not this an +indication of thought in the vine? Does it not indicate a knowledge in +the vine analogous to human understanding? ... There must be some agent +employed to bring the vine to the fountain.... + +“The more we study plant life the more we become convinced that life is +a unit, varying in form only, not in principle. Everything capable of +reproduction, growth, and development is governed by the same law, and +each is but a part of the unit we term life.” + +Again to quote the famous Frenchman: “When I breathe the perfume of +a Rose,” he says, “when I admire the beauty of form, the grace of +this flower in its freshly opening bloom, what strikes me most is the +work of that hidden, unknown, mysterious force which rules over the +plant’s life and can direct it in the maintenance of its existence, +which chooses the proper molecules of air, water, and earth for its +nourishment, and which knows, above all, how to assimilate these +molecules and group them so delicately as to form this graceful stem, +these dainty green leaves, these soft pink petals, these exquisite +tints and delicious fragrance.... + +“This mysterious force is the animating principle of the plant. Put a +Lily seed, an acorn, a grain of wheat, and a peach-stone side by side +in the ground, each germ will build up its own organism and no other.... + +“A plant breathes, drinks, eats, selects, refuses, seeks, works, lives, +acts, according to its instincts. One does like a charm, another pines, +a third is nervous and agitated. The Sensitive Plant shivers and +droops its leaves at the slightest touch.” + +Climbing plants show often a surprising degree of intelligence, +reaching out for support as if they had eyes to see. I have known a +vine whose head was aimlessly waving in the wind, with nothing near +it to which it might cling, turn deliberately round in an opposite +direction to that in which it had been growing and seize a line I had +stretched for it to grasp, without any help outside itself, and within +the space of an hour’s time. By manifold ways they cling and climb, +many by winding their stems round and round strings or sticks or wires, +or whatever is given them, as do the Morning-glories, Hop, Honeysuckle, +Wistarias, and many others; but Sweet Peas, Cobcœa, and so forth, +put out a delicate tendril at the end of each leaf, or rather group +of leaves. Nasturtiums, Clematis, and others take a turn with their +leaf-stems round anything that comes in their way, and so lift and hold +themselves securely, and the Echinocystus or Wild Cucumber has a system +of tendrils strong as iron and elastic as India-rubber. It is most +interesting to observe them all and ponder on their different charming +ways and habits, to help them if they need it, and to sympathize with +all their experiences. As I work among my flowers, I find myself +talking to them, reasoning and remonstrating with them, and adoring +them as if they were human beings. Much laughter I provoke among my +friends by so doing, but that is of no consequence. We are on such good +terms, my flowers and I! + +Altogether lovely they are out of doors, but I plant and tend them +always with the thought of the joy they will be within the house also. +I know well what Emerson means when he asks, + + “Hast thou named all the birds without a gun? + Loved the wood Rose and left it on its stalk?” + +and if I gather this or any other wild-flower I do it with such +reverent love that even he would be satisfied. No one knows better +and deplores more deeply than I the wholesale destruction, wanton and +cruel, which goes on among our wild-flowers every year; but to bring a +few indoors for purposes of study and fuller appreciation is another +and a desirable thing. For the wild Rose is but partially learned when +one pauses a moment in passing to admire the sweet surprise of its +beauty as it suddenly smiles up from the roadside. It cannot be learned +in a single glance, nor, indeed, in many glances: it must be carefully +considered and lovingly meditated upon before it yields all the marvel +of its delicate glory to your intelligence. “Consider the Lilies,” +said the Master. Truly, there is no more prayerful business than this +“consideration” of all the flowers that grow. + +And in the garden they are planted especially to feast the souls that +hunger for beauty, and within doors as well as without they “delight +the spirit of man.” Opening out on the long piazza over the flower +beds, and extending almost its whole length, runs the large, light, +airy room where a group of happy people gather to pass the swiftly +flying summers here at the Isles of Shoals. This room is made first for +music; on the polished floor is no carpet to muffle sound, only a few +rugs here and there, like patches of warm green moss on the pine-needle +color given by the polish to the natural hue of the wood. There are +no heavy draperies to muffle the windows, nothing to absorb the +sound. The piano stands midway at one side; there are couches, sofas +with pillows of many shades of dull, rich color, but mostly of warm +shades of green. There are low bookcases round the walls, the books +screened by short curtains of pleasant olive-green; the high walls to +the ceiling are covered with pictures, and flowers are everywhere. +The shelves of the tall mantel are splendid with massed Nasturtiums +like a blazing torch, beginning with the palest yellow, almost white, +and piled through every deepening shade of gold, orange, scarlet, +crimson, to the blackest red; all along the tops of the low bookcases +burn the fires of Marigolds, Coreopsis, large flowers of the velvet +single Dahlias in yellow, flame, and scarlet of many shades, masses of +pure gold summer Chrysanthemums, and many more,--all here and there +interspersed with blossoming grasses for a touch of ethereal green. On +one low bookcase are Shirley Poppies in a roseate cloud. And here let +me say that the secret of keeping Poppies in the house two whole days +without fading is this: they must be gathered early, before the dew has +dried, in the morning. I go forth between five and six o’clock to cut +them while yet their gray-green leaves are hoary with dew, taking a +tall slender pitcher or bottle of water with me into the garden, +and as I cut each stem dropping the flower at once into it, so that the +stem is covered nearly its whole length with water; and so on till the +pitcher is full. Gathered in this way, they have no opportunity to lose +their freshness, indeed, the exquisite creatures hardly know they have +been gathered at all. When I have all I need, I begin on the left end +of this bookcase, which most felicitously fronts the light, and into +the glasses put the radiant blossoms with an infinite enjoyment of the +work. The glasses (thirty-two in all) themselves are beautiful: nearly +all are white, clear and pure, with a few pale green and paler rose and +delicate blue, one or two of richer pink, all brilliantly clear and +filled with absolutely colorless water, through which the stems show +their slender green lengths. Into the glasses at this end on the left I +put first the dazzling white single Poppy, the Bride, to lead the sweet +procession,--a marvelous blossom, whose pure white is half transparent, +with its central altar of ineffable green and gold. A few of these +first, then a dozen or more of delicate tissue-paperlike blossoms of +snow in still another variety (with petals so thin that a bright color +behind them shows through their filmy texture); then the double kind +called Snowdrift, which being double makes a deeper body of whiteness +flecked with softest shadow. Then I begin with the palest rose tints, +placing them next, and slightly mingling a few with the last white +ones,--a rose tint delicate as the palm of a baby’s hand; then the +next, with a faint suffusion of a blush, and go on to the next shade, +still very delicate, not deeper than the soft hue on the lips of the +great whelk shells in southern seas; then the damask rose color and all +tints of tender pink, then the deeper tones to clear, rich cherry, and +on to glowing crimson, through a mass of this to burning maroon. + +The flowers are of all heights (the stems of different lengths), and, +though massed, are in broken and irregular ranks, the tallest standing +a little over two feet high. But there is no crushing or crowding. +Each individual has room to display its full perfection. The color +gathers, softly flushing from the snow white at one end, through all +rose, pink, cherry, and crimson shades, to the note of darkest red; the +long stems of tender green showing through the clear glass, the radiant +tempered gold of each flower illuminating the whole. Here and there a +few leaves, stalks, and buds (if I can bring my mind to the cutting of +these last) are sparingly interspersed at the back. The effect of this +arrangement is perfectly beautiful. It is simply indescribable, and I +have seen people stand before it mute with delight. It is like the rose +of dawn. + +To the left of this altar of flowers is a little table, upon which a +picture stands and leans against the wall at the back. In the picture +two Tea Roses long since faded live yet in their exquisite hues, +never indeed to die. Before this I keep always a few of the fairest +flowers, and call this table the shrine. Sometimes it is a spray of +Madonna Lilies in a long white vase of ground glass, or beneath the +picture in a jar of yellow glass floats a saffron-tinted Water Lily, +the Chromatella, or a tall sapphire glass holds deep blue Larkspurs +of the same shade, or in a red Bohemian glass vase are a few carmine +Sweet Peas, another harmony of color, or a charming dull red Japanese +jar holds a few Nasturtiums that exactly repeat its hues. The lovely +combinations and contrasts of flowers and vases are simply endless. + +On another small table below the “altar” are pink Water Lilies in +pink glasses and white ones in white glasses; a low basket of amber +glass is filled with the pale turquoise of Forget-me-nots, the glass +is iridescent and gleams with changing reflections, taking tints from +every color near it. Sweet Peas are everywhere about and fill the +air with fragrance; orange and yellow Iceland Poppies are in tall +vases of English glass of light green. There is a large, low bowl, +celadon-tinted, and decorated with the boughs and fruit of the Olive on +the gray-green background. This is filled with magnificent Jacqueminot +Roses, so large, so deep in color as to fully merit the word. Sometimes +they are mixed with pink Gabrielle de Luizets and old-fashioned Damask +Roses, and the bowl is set where the light falls just as it should to +give the splendor of the flowers its full effect. In the centre of a +round table under one of the chandeliers is a flaring Venice glass as +pure as a drop of dew and of a quaintly lovely shape; on the crystal +water therein lies a single white Water Lily, fragrant snow and gold. +By itself is a low vase shaped like a Magnolia flower, with petals +of light yellow deepening in color at the bottom, where its calyx of +olive-green leaves clasps the flower. This has looking over its edge a +few pale yellow Nasturtiums of the Asa Gray variety, the lightest of +all. With these, one or two of a richer yellow (Dunnett’s Orange), the +flowers repeating the tones of the vase, and with them harmoniously +blending. A large pearly shell of the whelk tribe was given me years +ago. I did not know what to do with it. I do not like flowers in shells +as a rule, and I think the shells are best on the beach where they +belong, but I was fond of the giver, so I sought some way of utilizing +the gift. In itself it was beautiful, a mass of glimmering rainbows. I +bored three holes in its edge and suspended it from one of the severely +simple chandeliers with almost invisible wires. I keep it filled with +water and in it arrange sometimes clusters of monthly Honeysuckle +sparingly; the hues of the flowers and the shell mingle and blend +divinely. I get the same effect with Hydrangea flowers, tints and tones +all melt together; so also with the most delicate Sweet Peas, white, +rose, and lilac; with these I take some lengths of the blossoming Wild +Cucumber vine with its light clusters of white flowers, or the white +Clematis, the kind called “Traveler’s Joy,” and weave it lightly about +the shell, letting it creep over one side and, running up the wires, +entirely conceal them; then it is like a heavenly apparition afloat in +mid air. Sometimes the tender mauve and soft rose and delicate blues of +the exquisite little Rose Campion, or Rose of Heaven, with its grassy +foliage, swing in this rainbow shell, making another harmony of hues. + +Sometimes it is draped with wild Morning-glory vines which are gathered +with their buds at evening; their long wiry stems I coil in the water, +and arrange the graceful lengths of leaves and buds carefully, letting +a few droop over the edge and twine together beneath the shell, and +some run up to the chandelier and conceal the wires. The long smooth +buds, yellow-white like ivory, deepen to a touch of bright rose at the +tips close folded. In the morning all the buds open into fair trumpets +of sea-shell pink, turning to every point of the compass, an exquisite +sight to see. By changing the water daily these vines last a week, +fresh buds maturing and blossoming every morning. + +[Illustration: _The Altar and Shrine_] + +Near my own seat in a sofa corner at one of the south windows stands +yet another small table, covered with a snow-white linen cloth +embroidered in silk as white and lustrous as silver. On this are +gathered every day all the rarest and loveliest flowers as they +blossom, that I may touch them, dwell on them, breathe their delightful +fragrance and adore them. Here are kept the daintiest and most delicate +of the vases which may best set off the flowers’ loveliness,--the +smallest of the collection, for the table is only large enough to hold +a few. There is one slender small tumbler of colorless glass, from +the upper edge of which a crimson stain is diffused half way down its +crystal length. In this I keep one glowing crimson Burgundy Rose, or +an opening Jacqueminot bud; the effect is as if the color of the rose +ran down and dyed the glass crimson. It is so beautiful an effect one +never wearies of it. There is a little jar of Venice glass, the kind +which Browning describes in “The Flight of the Duchess,”-- + + “With long white threads distinct inside, + Like the lake-flower’s fibrous roots that dangle + Loose such a length and never tangle.” + +This is charming with a few rich Pinks of different shades. Another +Venice glass is irregularly bottle-shaped, bluish white with +cool sea-green reflections at the bottom, very delicate, like an +aqua-marine. It is lightly sprinkled with gold dust throughout its +whole length; toward the top the slender neck takes on a soft touch of +pink which meets and mingles with the Bon Silene or La France Rose I +always keep in it. Another Venice glass still is a wonder of iridescent +blues, lavenders, gray, and gold, all through, with a faint hint of +elusive green. A spray of heaven-blue Larkspur dashed with rose is +delicious in this slender shape, with its marvelous tints melting into +the blue and pink of the fairy flowers. + +A little glass of crystal girdled with gold holds pale blue +Forget-me-nots; sometimes it is rich with orange and yellow Erysimum +flowers. In a tall Venetian vase of amber a Lilium auratum is superb. +A low jar of opaque rose-pink, lost at the bottom in milky whiteness, +is refreshing with an old-fashioned Damask Rose matching its color +exactly. This is also exquisite with one pink Water Lily. The +pink variety of the Rose Campion is enchanting in this low jar. A tall +shaft of ruby glass is radiant with Poppies of every shade of rose and +lightest scarlet, with the silvery green of a few oats among them. A +slender purple glass is fine with different shades of purple and lilac +Sweet Peas, or one or two purple Poppies, or an Aster or two of just +its color, but there is one long gold-speckled Bohemian glass of rich +green which is simply perfect for any flower that blows, and perfect +under any circumstances. A half dozen Iceland Poppies, white, yellow, +orange, in a little Japanese porcelain bottle, always stand on this +beautiful table, the few flecks of color on the bottle repeating their +tints. I never could tell half the lovely combinations that glow on +this table all summer long. + +By the wide western window a large vase of clear white glass, nearly +three feet high, stands full of spears of timothy grass taller than the +vase, the tallest I can find, springing stately and high, their heavy +green tops bending the fine strong stems just enough for consummate +grace. These are mixed with lighter branching grasses, and down among +the grass stalks are thrust the slender stalks of tall Poppies of +every conceivable shade of red; the whole is a great sheaf of splendor +reaching higher than the top of the window. This is really imposing; it +takes the eye with delight. + +[Illustration: _A Favorite Corner_] + +All summer long within this pleasant room the flowers hold carnival +in every possible combination of beauty. All summer long it is kept +fresh and radiant with their loveliness,--a wonder of bloom, color, +and fragrance. Year after year a long procession of charming people +come and go within its doors, and the flowers that glow for their +delight seem to listen with them to the music that stirs each blossom +upon its stem. Often have I watched the great red Poppies drop their +fiery petals wavering solemnly to the floor, stricken with arrows of +melodious sound from the matchless violin answering to the touch of +a master, or to the storm of rich vibrations from the piano. What +heavenly music has resounded from those walls, what mornings and +evenings of pleasantness have flown by in that room! How many people +who have been happy there have gone out of it and of the world forever! +Yet still the summers come, the flowers bloom, are gathered and adored, +not without wistful thought of the eyes that will see them no more. +Still in the sweet tranquil mornings at the piano one sits playing, +also with a master’s touch, and strains of Schubert, Mozart, Schumann, +Chopin, Rubinstein, Beethoven, and many others, soothe and enchant the +air. The wild bird’s song that breaks from without into the sonata +makes no discord. Open doors and windows lead out on the vine-wreathed +veranda, with the garden beyond steeped in sunshine, a sea of exquisite +color swaying in the light air. Poppies blowing scarlet in the wind, or +delicately flushing in softest rose or clearest red, or shining white +where the Bride stands tall and fair, like a queen among them all. A +thousand varied hues amid the play of fluttering leaves: Marigolds +ablaze in vivid flame; purple Pansies,--a myriad flowers, white, pink, +blue, carmine, lavender, in waves of sweet color and perfume to the +garden fence, where stand the sentinel Sunflowers and Hollyhocks, +gorgeously arrayed and bending gently to the breeze; Sunflowers with +broad faces that seem to reflect the glory of the day; the Hollyhocks, +tall spikes of pale and deep pink, white, scarlet, yellow, maroon, and +many hues. Over the sweet sea of flowers the butterflies go wavering on +airy wings of white and gold, the bees hum in the Hollyhocks, and the +humming-birds glitter like jewels in the sun; but whether these their +winged lovers go or come, the flowers do not care, they live their +happy lives and rejoice, intent only on fulfilling Heaven’s will, to +grow and to blossom in the utmost perfection possible to them. Climbing +the trellis, the monthly Honeysuckle holds its clusters high against +the pure sunlit sky, glowing in beauty beyond any words of mine to +tell. Charming people sit within the pleasant room among its flowers, +listening to the delicious music; others are grouped without in the +sun-flecked shadow of the green vines, where the cool air ripples +lightly in the leaves; lovely women in colors that seem to have copied +the flowers in the garden, and all steeped in sweet dreams and fugitive +fancies as delicate as the perfumes that drift in soft waves from the +blossoms below. Beyond the garden the green grassy spaces sloping to +the sea are rich with blossoming thickets of wild Roses, among the +bleached white ledges, blushing fair to see, and the ocean beyond +shimmers and sparkles beneath the touch of the warm south wind. + +Enchanting days, and evenings still more so, if that were possible! +With the music still thrilling within the lighted room where the +flowers glow under the lamplight, while floods of moonlight make more +mystic the charmed night without. The thick curtain of the green vine +that drapes the piazza is hung over its whole surface with the long +drooping clusters of its starry flowers that lose all their sweetness +upon the air, and show from the garden beneath like an immense airy +veil of delicate white lace in the moonlight,--a wonderful white glory. +Through the windows cut in this living curtain of leaves and flowers we +look out over the sea beneath the moon--is anything more mysteriously +beautiful?--on glimmering waves and shadowy sails and rocks dim in +broken light and shade; on the garden with all its flowers so full of +color that even in the moonlight their hues are visibly glowing. The +fair creatures stand still, unstirred by any wandering airs, the Lilies +gleam, and the white stars of the Nicotiana, the white Poppies, the +white Asters that just begin to bloom, and the tall milky clusters of +the Phlox: nothing disturbs their slumber save perhaps the wheeling of +the rosy-winged Sphinx moth that flutters like the spirit of the night +above them as they dream. + + + + +[Illustration] + +[Illustration] + +The garden suffers from the long drought in this last week of July, +though I water it faithfully. The sun burns so hot that the earth dries +again in an hour, after the most thorough drenching I can give it. The +patient flowers seem to be standing in hot ashes, with the air full of +fire above them. The cool breeze from the sea flutters their drooping +petals, but does not refresh them in the blazing noon. Outside the +garden on the island slopes the baked turf cracks away from the heated +ledges of rock, and all the pretty growths of Sorrel and Eyebright, +Grasses and Crowfoot, Potentilla and Lion’s-tongue, are crisp and dead. +All things begin again to pine and suffer for the healing touch of the +rain. + +Toward noon on this last day of the month the air darkens, and around +the circle of the horizon the latent thunder mutters low. Light puffs +of wind eddy round the garden, and whirl aloft the weary Poppy petals +high in air, till they wheel like birds about the chimney-tops. +Then all is quiet once more. In the rich, hot sky the clouds pile +themselves slowly, superb white heights of thunder-heads warmed with +a brassy glow that deepens to rose in their clefts toward the sun. +These clouds grow and grow, showing like Alpine summits amid the +shadowy heaps of looser vapor; all the great vault of heaven gathers +darkness; soon the cloudy heights, melting, are suffused in each other, +losing shape and form and color. Then over the coast-line the sky +turns a hard gray-green, against which rises with solemn movement and +awful deliberation an arch of leaden vapor spanning the heavens from +southwest to northeast, livid, threatening, its outer edges shaped like +the curved rim of a mushroom, gathering swiftness as it rises, while +the water beneath is black as hate, and the thunder rolls peal upon +peal, as faster and faster the wild arch moves upward into tremendous +heights above our heads. The whole sky is dark with threatening purple. +Death and destruction seem ready to emerge from beneath that flying +arch of which the livid fringes stream like gray flame as the wind +rends its fierce and awful edge. Under it afar on the black level water +a single sail gleams chalk-white in the gloom, a sail that even as we +look is furled away from our sight, that the frail craft which bears +it may ride out the gale under bare poles, or drive before it to some +haven of safety. Earth seems to hold her breath before the expected +fury. Lightning scores the sky from zenith to horizon, and across +from north to south “a fierce, vindictive scribble of fire” writes +its blinding way, and the awesome silence is broken by the cracking +thunder that follows every flash. A moment more, and a few drops like +bullets strike us; then the torn arch flies over in tattered rags, a +monstrous apparition lost in darkness; then the wind tears the black +sea into white rage and roars and screams and shouts with triumph,--the +floods and the hurricane have it all their own way. Continually the +tempest is shot through with the leaping lightning and crashing +thunder, like steady cannonading, echoing and reëchoing, roaring +through the vast empty spaces of the heavens. In pauses of the tumult +a strange light is fitful over sea and rocks, then the tempest begins +afresh as if it had taken breath and gained new strength. One’s whole +heart rises responding to the glory and the beauty of the storm, and is +grateful for the delicious refreshment of the rain. Every leaf rejoices +in the life-giving drops. Through the dense sparkling rain-curtain +the lightning blazes now in crimson and in purple sheets of flame. +Oh, but the wind is wild! Spare my treasures, oh, do not slay utterly +my beautiful, beloved flowers! The tall stalks bend and strain, the +Larkspurs bow. I hold my breath while the danger lasts, thinking only +of the wind’s power to harm the garden; for the leaping lightning and +the crashing thunder I love, but the gale fills me with dread for my +flowers defenseless. Still down pour the refreshing floods; everything +is drenched: where are the humming-birds? The boats toss madly on the +moorings, the sea breaks wildly on the shore, the world is drowned and +gone, there is nothing but tempest and tumult and rush and roar of +wind and rain. + +The long trailing sprays of the Echinocystus vine stretch and strain +like pennons flying out in the blast, the Wistaria tosses its feathery +plumes over the arch above the door. Alas, for my bank of tall Poppies +and blue Cornflowers and yellow Chrysanthemums outside! The Poppies are +laid low, never to rise again, but the others will gather themselves +together by and by, and the many-colored fires of Nasturtiums will +clothe the slope with new beauty presently. The storm is sweeping past, +already the rain diminishes, the lightning pales, the thunder retreats +till leagues and leagues away we hear it “moaning and calling out of +other lands.” The clouds break away and show in the west glimpses of +pure, melting blue, the sun bursts forth, paints a rainbow in the east +upon the flying fragments of the storm, and pours a flood of glory over +the drowned earth; the pelted flowers take heart and breathe again, +every leaf shines, dripping with moisture; the grassy slopes laugh in +sweet color; the sea calms itself to vast tranquillity and answers back +the touch of the sun with a million glittering smiles. + +Though the outside bank of flowers is wrecked and the tall Poppies +prone upon the ground, those inside the garden are safe because I took +the precaution to run two rows of wire netting up and down through the +beds for their support. So, when the winds are cruelly violent, the +tall, brittle stalks lean against this light but strong bulwark and are +unhurt. + +After the storm, in the clear, beautiful morning, before sunrise I +went as usual into the garden to gather my flowers. To and fro, up and +down over the ruined bank I passed; the wind blew cool and keen from +the west, though the sky was smiling. The storm had beaten the flowers +flat all over the slope; in scarlet and white and blue and pink and +purple and orange bloom they were prostrate everywhere, leaves, stalks, +blossoms, and all tangled and matted in an inextricable confusion. +Swiftly I made my way through it, finding a foothold here and there, +and stooping for every freshly unfolded cup or star or bell whose bud +the tempest had spared. As I neared the little western gate with my +hands full of blossoms to enter the garden on my way to the house, I +was stopped still as a statue before a most pathetic sight. There, +straight across the way, a tall Poppy plant lay prone upon the ground, +and clinging to the stem of one of its green seed-pods sat my precious +pet humming-bird, the dearest of the flock that haunt the garden, +the tamest of them all. His eyes were tightly closed, his tiny claws +clasped the stem automatically, he had no feeling, he was rigid with +cold. The chill dew loaded the gray-green Poppy leaves, the keen wind +blew sharply over him,--he is dead, I thought with a pang, as I shifted +my flowers in a glowing heap to my left arm, and clasped the frozen +little body in the palm of my right hand. It was difficult to disengage +his slender wiry claws from their close grip on the chilly stalk, but +he never moved or showed a sign of life as I took him off. I held him +most tenderly in my closed hand, very careful not to crush or even +press his tiny perishing body, and breathed into the shut hollow of +my palm upon him with a warm and loving breath. I was so very busy, +there were so many things to be done that morning, I could not stop +to sit down and nurse him back to life. But I held him safe, and as I +went up and down the garden paths gathering the rest of my flowers, +I breathed every moment into my hand upon him. Ten, fifteen, twenty +minutes passed; he made no sign of life. Alas, I thought, he is truly +dead; when all at once I felt the least little thrill pass through +the still, cold form, an answering thrill of joy ran through me in +response, and more softly, closely, tenderly yet I sent my warm breath +to the tiny creature as I still went on with my work. In a few minutes +more I began to feel the smallest fluttering pulse of life throbbing +faintly within him; in yet a few moments more he stirred and stretched +his wings, comforting himself in the genial heat. When at last I felt +him all alive, I took a small shallow basket of yellow straw, very +small and light, and in it put a tuft of soft cotton wool, filled a +tiny glass cup with sugar and water, honey-thick, placed it in the +basket by the cotton, then gently laid the wee bird on the warm fluff. +His eyes were still closed, but he moved his head slowly from side to +side. The sun had risen and was pouring floods of light and heat into +the garden. I carried the basket out into the corner where the heavenly +blue Larkspurs stood behind the snow-whiteness of the full blossoming +Lilies, and among the azure spikes I hung the pretty cradle where the +sunbeams lay hottest and brightest on the flowers. The wind, grown +balmy and mild, rocked the tall flower-spikes gently, the basket swayed +with them, and the heat was so reviving that the dear little creature +presently opened his eyes and quietly looked about him. At that my +heart rejoiced. It was delightful to watch his slow return to his old +self as I still went on with my work, looking continually toward him to +see how he was getting on. The ardent sunbeams sent fresh life through +him; suddenly he rose, an emerald spark, into the air, and quivered +among the blue flowers, diving deep into each winged blossom for his +breakfast of honey. + +All day and every day he haunts the garden, and when tired rests +contentedly on the small twig of a dry pea-stick near the Larkspurs. +The rosy Peas blossom about him, the Hollyhock flowers unfold in +glowing pink with lace-like edges of white; the bees hum there all day +in and out of the many flowers; the butterflies hover and waver and +wheel. When one comes too near him, up starts my beauty and chases him +away on burnished wings, away beyond the garden’s bounds, and returns +to occupy his perch in triumph,--the dry twig he has taken for his +home the whole sweet summer long. Other humming-birds haunt the place, +but he belongs there; they go and come, but he keeps to his perch and +his Larkspurs faithfully. He is so tame he never stirs from his twig +for anybody, no matter how near a person may come; he alights on my +arms and hands and hair unafraid; he rifles the flowers I hold, when I +am gathering them, and I sometimes think he is the very most charming +thing in the garden. The jealous bees and the butterflies follow the +flowers I carry also, sometimes all the way into the house. The other +day, as I sat in the piazza which the vines shade with their broad +green leaves and sweet white flowers climbing up to the eaves and over +the roof, I saw the humming-birds hovering over the whole expanse +of green, to and fro, and discovered that they were picking off and +devouring the large transparent aphides scattered, I am happy to say +but sparingly, over its surface, every little gnat and midge they +snapped up with avidity. I had fancied they lived on honey, but they +appeared to like the insects quite as well. + +[Illustration: _Home of the Humming-bird_] + +In the sweet silence before sunrise, standing in the garden I watch +the large round shield of the full moon slowly fading in the west from +copper to brass and then to whitest silver, throwing across a sea of +glass its long, still reflection, while the deep, pure sky takes on a +rosy warmth of color from the approaching sun. Soon an insufferable +glory burns on the edge of the eastern horizon; up rolls the great +round red orb and sets the dew twinkling and sparkling in a thousand +rainbows, sending its first rejoicing rays over the wide face of the +world. When in these fresh mornings I go into my garden before any +one is awake, I go for the time being into perfect happiness. In this +hour divinely fresh and still, the fair face of every flower salutes +me with a silent joy that fills me with infinite content; each +gives me its color, its grace, its perfume, and enriches me with the +consummation of its beauty. All the cares, perplexities, and griefs of +existence, all the burdens of life slip from my shoulders and leave me +with the heart of a little child that asks nothing beyond its present +moment of innocent bliss. These myriad beaming faces turned to mine +seem to look at me with blessing eyes. I feel the personality of +each flower, and I find myself greeting them as if they were human. +“Good-morning, beloved friends! Are all things well with you? And are +you tranquil and bright? and are you happy and beautiful?” They stand +in their peace and purity and lift themselves to my adoring gaze as if +they knew my worship,--so calm, so sweet, so delicately radiant, I lose +myself in the tranquillity of their happiness. They seem like sentient +beings, as if they knew me and loved me, not indeed as I love them, but +with almost a reliance on my sympathy and care, and a pleasure in my +delight in them. I please myself with the thought that if anything goes +wrong with them, if a vine or tender stalk droops for lack of support, +or if some insect is working them woe, or threat of harm comes to them +from any quarter, they say to each other, “Patience! She will be coming +soon, she will see our trouble, she will succor us, and all will again +be well.” + +The summer life in the garden of the winged things of the air is most +charming,--the wonderful creatures that have escaped, as it were, from +the earth. The life that crawls and creeps and devours and destroys, +in the forms of slug and cutworm and all hideous shapes, is utterly +forgotten as we watch these ethereal beings, fluttering, quivering, +darting, dancing, wavering, wheeling, rejoicing aloft in merry flight. +The Larkspur spikes bend with the weight of the booming bees, the whole +blossoming space is alive with many-colored butterflies like floating +flowers, and the humming-birds are a perpetual pleasure. They are astir +even before sunrise, when the air is yet chill with the breath of the +retreating night,--there they are, vibrating with their soft humming +over the Larkspur blossoms which are themselves like exquisite azure +birds all poised for flight, or diving deep into the fragrant trumpets +of the Honeysuckle, everywhere flashing in emerald and ruby as the +sun’s first beams strike them, like the living jewels they are. Their +fearlessness is something amazing. I never shall forget the surprise +of joy that filled me when for the first time one alighted on my +sleeve and rested, as much at home as if I were a stick or a harmless +twig! Sparrows and nuthatches had often alighted on my head as I stood +musing over my flowers, perfectly still, but to have this tiny spark of +brilliant life come to anchor, as it were, on anything so earthly as +my arm was indeed a nine days’ wonder! Now it has grown to be an old +story, but it is never any less delightful. + +August 18th. This morning the garden was so dry again when I sought it +at sunrise, in spite of the heavy dew, that I took the hose and turned +on the water, showering the whole place most thoroughly. When I had +done the drops clung thickly to everything, to the sprays of Sweet +Peas especially, the rough surface of their leaves and stalks catching +and holding the water more tenaciously than the smoother foliage; they +were begemmed, as it were, with so many sparkling spheres of light. +The tamest, dearest humming-bird, whose home is in the Larkspurs, was +greatly excited by this unexpected and refreshing shower, and whirred +about me, uttering continually his one fine, sweet, keen note. When +my rain-storm ceased he flew to the Sweet Peas close to his azure +bower, and sitting on a green spray already bent with the weight of +the clear drops, proceeded to take his morning bath with the most +cheerful enjoyment. He fluttered his tiny wings and ducked his head and +wagged his tail and drenched himself completely; his feathers were so +soaking wet that his little body looked no bigger than a bumble-bee; +then he flew up and lighted on the tallest pea-stick that reached over +the fence among the Larkspurs: there sitting on his favorite twig he +rapidly preened his feathers, shook himself, spread his wings and tail +and combed them with his slender beak and dried them in the broad, +bright beams that poured across the garden from the low sun. With +claws and beak he smoothed and arranged his dainty raiment, perfectly +regardless of me, his ardent admirer, standing near enough to touch him +with my finger. Then he fluttered in and out among the flowers, dipping +into every dewy chalice and feasting on his fragrant honey. + +I wonder, as I muse over the charms of these most minute of feathered +creatures, how it is possible for their tiny wings to bear them over +the miles of restless and perilous brine, to find this rock with its +nest of flowers! Do they surmise the hospitality that awaits them at +the end of their long journey as they steer their dangerous way across +the wastes of the salt sea on those small, weak, quivering pinions? +Have they some subtle inkling of the tender welcome that awaits them +here? Do they guess how they will be admired and adored? I have filled +a small glass mug with sugar and water thick as honey, and fastened it +in a crotch of the pea-sticks for them to feed upon; the bees throng +to it, the ants have found it, and I hope the humming-birds will feast +there too. One morning lately, as I was busy in the garden, a little +creature brushed by me so close I thought it was a bee; turning to look +at it, I was sure it was a humming-bird, but such an atom! Its like I +had never imagined. I watched it, fascinated, as it flew here, there, +and everywhere, whirring just like a humming-bird, crazy over the +annual Larkspurs. A greenish golden sheen was reflected from the head +and back, the very color of the little bird, and it had a small, short +tail, with a band of white round its body, which seemed feathered, as +also its mottled breast. Its bright black eyes were like the bird’s, +and it hummed with its wings in precisely the same way. Its beak was +short, and as it went from flower to flower, probing for honey, I +was perfectly sure it was a new variety of humming-bird, the most +minute that was ever created. I watched it with breathless interest, +completely puzzled by it. Perfectly tame, it flew all about me and +investigated the flowers in my hand. Suddenly I discovered that it had +three pairs of legs! No bird, I said, ever had more than one, and then +I was satisfied that it must be the most marvelous moth in the world. +It was so happy and beautiful, flying about so confidingly in the +bright sunshine within reach of my hand! But I knew of some one to whom +it would be a treasure, so I threw a light veil over, caught it, and +sent it softly to sleep forever with some chloroform. It was _Ællopos +Titan_, very rare, and found in the tropics. + +The dazzling white Lilies blossoming now, bright as silvery snow below +the Larkspurs, are taller than they by several feet. I wish I could in +any words paint the hues of these splendid Delphiniums; such shades of +melting blue, some light, others dark, some like the summer heaven, and +dashed across their pale azure wings with delicious rose. Now is the +garden at high tide of beauty. Sweet Peas are brilliant in all their +vivid tints; they are doing bravely, spite of the drought, because +their roots are so well shaded. They bloom so plenteously that they +can hardly be gathered, though they are cut daily. The Rose Campion +bed is a lake of delicate colors with its border of scarlet Flax. +Poppies of every tint are blazing; the Hollyhocks are splendid, with +their comrades the Sunflowers; every day the single Dahlias surprise +me with new and unexpected flowers; the Tea Rose bed is a perpetual +delight and astonishment; the purple Zanzibar Lily is blossoming in +its tub and never is without its wonderful cup afloat; the Lotus sends +up strong, long-stemmed leaves aloft, and keeps me eagerly looking for +its promised flower of radiant pink,--its leaves are a marvel with +their mystic markings held so high above the water. The Honeysuckles +are breathing out all their sweetness on the air; the Pinks are out in +spicy bloom; the Mountain Fringe drapes the doorway with cloudy green +and pale rose-color. Constellations of Marigolds and Artemisias and +Coreopsis, whole solar systems of fiery suns and stars, blossom all +over the place, and in partly shaded corners large fragrant stars of +Nicotiana shine also when twilight falls. The Japanese Sunflowers make +every spot gay where they unfold; they are hardy; when once they fairly +get a foothold in the garden, they will not be dislodged, and I for +one would never wish to dislodge them, though they spread and grow and +multiply rapidly, and take much space if left to go on undisturbed. +They have an indescribable golden atmosphere about them, because, I +suppose, of their cup-like shape; they never stretch their petals out +flat like other Sunflowers. They have a small brown central disk, and +their “ray-like florets” are of deep yellow, curved more inward than +outward. The Artemisias are in one shade of full, rich gold, in shape +like a common field Daisy; the Marigolds are in every shade of yellow, +orange, and flame, effulgent,--some with centres of velvet brown, some +with peacock green, some all gold, with exquisite gradations of color +through all their rays. “Ardent Marigolds!” sang John Keats. Ardent +indeed they are, with fervors of color that glow like the beams of day. + +The dark crimson Jacqueminot Roses are almost gone, but almost every +other flower is at its best, the whole garden in blossom at once. +Dearly I love to sit in the sun upon the doorstep with a blossom in +my hand and meditate upon its details, the lavish elaboration of its +loveliness, to study every peculiar characteristic of each, and wonder +and rejoice in its miraculous existence, a feast more delicate and +satisfying than the honey the birds and bees and butterflies gather +from its heart. Over my head the Cobœa vine droops its large green and +purple bells, with many another flower beside. The Tropæolum Lucifer +thronging up the trellis on either hand truly merits the name of +Light-bearer; its scarlet velvet blooms have almost an illuminating +quality. I hold a flower of the pretty Love-in-a-mist, the quaint +Nigella, and scan its charming face. It blossoms late and long, and +is a flower of most distinguished beauty. It is star-shaped, in tints +of white, blue, and purple, with full rich stamens and anthers of +warmer red-purple, the petals on the back delicately veined in each +variety with fine lines of faint green. The rich cluster of stamens +is surrounded at the base by eight smaller inner petals in different +tints, so wonderful in detail, so ornate in decoration as to be simply +indescribable. Each large outer petal is curved and cup-shaped, yet +each has its finishing point which makes the blossom starry, and these +eight inner petals radiate from the centre within, above the larger +ones. The foliage whence it gets its old-time name, Love-in-a-mist, +is like a soft green vapor, and in the double varieties, the white +especially, runs up and mixes itself with the petals. The single +varieties are much the finest. They have a faint perfume of anise, and +they are among the quaintest and most interesting flowers I know. + +I love to pore over every blossom that unfolds in the garden, no +matter what it may be, to study it and learn it by heart as far as +a poor mortal may. If one but gazes closely into a tiny flower of +the pale blue Forget-me-not, what a chapter of loveliness is there! +One sees at a glance the sweet color of the starry, compact cluster, +and perhaps will notice that the delicate buds in their cherishing +calyx are several shades of rose and lilac before they unclose, but +unless one studies it closely, how shall one know that in most cases +the _himmel-blau_ petals are distinctly heart-shaped, that round its +golden centre it wears a necklace of pearls, or so they seem, till on +looking closer one discovers that the effect is made by the fluting +of the whitened folds of each petal at the base; it looks precisely +as if it wore a string of polished beads. The tiny spot of darkness +within its inmost yellow ring holds five stamens, with dusty anthers +of paler yellow (also heart-shaped when the flower first unfolds) in +a close circle round the pistil of pale green. Unless the eyes are +young and keen a microscope only will tell this; but it is one of the +wisest things in the world to carry in one’s pocket a little magnifying +glass, for this opens so many unknown gates into the wonders and +splendors of Creation. There is such wealth of ornament, such marvelous +subtile thought spent on the smallest blossom! The “sweet and cunning +hand of Nature” is so lavish of its work, and it is all so happy, the +joy is so inexhaustible, the refreshment to the human soul so heavenly! + +The fragrant fringes of the Mignonette, how surprising and curiously +beautiful they are under the little pocket microscope! What elaboration +of detail, what tempered harmonies of color, what marvels of +construction! I reach my hand for a blossom of Coreopsis Coronata +some one has let fall on the step,--what a refulgent flower! There is +something Spanish about its aspect always to me. There are eight yellow +velvet petals deeply toothed at the edges, and rich embroideries in red +about the warmer yellow of the centre. Gorgeous it is, and so is its +relative, Coreopsis Drummondii, and both have a double row of sepals, +the row nearest the corolla brown and thin and light, the outer one +much coarser and bright green. The centre of the Drummondii is more +like the wild Rudbeckia, with markings not so ornate as the Coronata, +but in a mass, and of a brighter, clearer red. All this family of +flowers, Lanceolata, Golden Banner, the deep scarlet and maroon +varieties, are superb and most decorative. + +It is a great temptation to linger over the loveliness of every flower +that unfolds, but I spare my patient readers, and leave them to pursue +these fascinating researches for themselves. + +I have had reward enough for all my care of the Water Lilies (even +though they had put forth only leaves, but they have blossomed well) +in the delight of the birds over the tubs of clear water on which the +mottled leaves are floating. So many charming creatures pause at them +to drink, and the song-sparrows bathe there daily. Enchanting it is to +watch their pretty ways as they hop from the tub’s edge upon a Lily-pad +which yields beneath their weight and lets them gently down, but out +of this they always flit and take their own way about it, dipping and +splashing bravely till they are thoroughly drenched, then preening and +drying themselves as they sit upon the brim, and singing their song of +sweet content when all is done. + +September 23d. Now are the crickets loud in the grass and the Hawkweed +waves in pale yellow all over the island, the autumn Dandelion, starry +on its long and slender stem. But still the garden glows, and still +autumn + + “Sets budding more + And still more later flowers for the bees, + Until they think warm days will never cease, + For summer has o’er brimmed their clammy cells.” + +Where the Hollyhocks earliest to blossom stand bereft of all save their +thick-growing, full, round seed vessels, the late Morning-glories have +wreathed and twined themselves and hung the stems with white and rose +and heaven-blue bells, and the later blooming stalks are rich with +fresh flowers. Still the Sweet Peas blossom as if their thick ranks +were ready to fly away with myriad wings of delicious pink, blue, +purple, red, and white. Poppies yet bloom, Rose Campions at their +brightest, hemmed in with the Scarlet Flax, and the stars and suns of +Marigolds blaze with a matchless glory. Single Dahlias are sumptuous +in every color, and in their prime. One Coreopsis Golden Banner is a +sight to see, like a great gold mountain heaped in the middle of the +garden. Many kinds of Helianthus make splendid the little inclosure; +Love-in-a-mist puts out flower after flower of mystic charm; the Asters +bloom in profusion of exquisite colors,--the Comet variety, which I +think is most lovely of all. The white Stocks are dazzling in their +purity, and so fragrant! Nasturtiums run riot, of course, and light +up every corner; the Phloxes glow; the Mourning Brides are fine in +their sumptuous black-red velvet; Verbenas are brilliant; Tea Roses +blossoming yet; the Giant Spider flower, _Cloeme pungens_, rises all +over the garden in rosy purple clouds. Mignonette is lavish of rich +spikes of bloom, and the Pansies never so splendid; immense smooth, +perfect flowers of every color, they never put forth such in the +summer heats. Picotee pinks are bright and sweet, but the poor little +Margarets suffered too much with the venomous carnation worm, spite of +my daily care, and are only just now sending up their buds. I shall +take them up and keep them safe in the house over the winter. In a +corner the deep blue Plumbago Lady Larpent blooms finely, the Foxgloves +are strong and tall, though they will not blossom till another year; +but the whole garden is a mass of bloom and fragrance, still haunted by +birds, bees, butterflies, and dragonflies; the humming-birds are gone, +I know not whither, not to return this year. The withering vines are +alive with many little creepers and warblers and flycatchers; indeed, +the island is full of distinguished bird-strangers on their way south. +Scores of golden woodpeckers, or flickers, or yellow-hammers (they have +dozens of striking names) are here, and just now two great ospreys +perch on the vane above the highest ridge-pole, and soar and perch +again, uttering strange, harsh cries. This morning a large flock of +wild geese flew over toward the south, so low we could see the colors +and the markings of their plumage. The familiar curlews call sweetly +as in spring. Outside the garden this tranquil morning the soft green +turf that slopes smoothly to the sea in front is shaggy with the thick +dew from which the yet low sun strikes a thousand broken rainbows. +The clumps of wild Roses glow with their red haws in the full light; +the Elder bushes are laden with clusters of purple berries; Goldenrod +and wild Asters bloom, and a touch of fire begins to light up the +Huckleberry bushes, “Autumn laying here and there a fiery finger on the +leaves.” The gray rocks show so fair in the changing lights, and all +the dear island with its sights and sounds is set in the pale light +summer-blue of a smiling sea as if it were June, with hardly a wave +to break its happy calm. Round the horizon a band of haze, the same +ashes-of-roses color as that which makes lovely the skies of May, +holds the fair world in a light embrace for this one day; a few white +clouds are losing themselves in the pure blue above; a few sails gleam +afar. Though the tide is full, it makes no murmur; I hear only the +drowsy bees in the Hollyhocks, the young fledgling song-sparrows trying +their voices, learning the sweet song their parents are pouring at +intervals on the quiet air, and the chirp and twitter of other birds, +birds of passage, with finch and thrush, nuthatch and late robin, the +whistle of a whitethroat, the clanking jar of the kingfisher that +perches on the mast of the faithful little tug Pinafore (so many years +our only link with the mainland in winter), as she lies at her wharf in +the upper cove, and shows his handsome blue and gray plumage and white +collar glittering in the sun. A fisherman draws his nets in a shining +white skiff, but he makes no sound that I can hear. The season is so +divinely tranquil and sweet, all things are so beautiful in and about +the little isle, from the glittering seal that emerges from the waves +to sun himself sometimes on the seaweed-covered rocks, to the smallest +flower that blossoms in my garden; from the wonderful jelly-fish +that spreads its large diaphanous cup, expanding and contracting as +it swims, and colored like a great melting opal in the pale-green, +translucent water, to the bright-eyed bats that flitter at dusk when +the evening star is sparkling above the rich red of the sunset sky. +And that reminds me that all summer a white bat has skittered ghostly +with its dark companions, as soon as twilight fell, about the place. +Of a white bat never before have I heard, but all kinds of strange and +remarkable creatures find their way here, and I am surprised at nothing. + +Once more the weird laughter of the loons comes to my ear, the distance +lends it a musical, melancholy sound. From a dangerous ledge off the +lighthouse island floats in on the still air the gentle tolling of a +warning bell as it swings on its rocking buoy; it might be tolling for +the passing of summer and sweet weather with that persistent, pensive +chime. + +And so the ripe year wanes. From turfy slopes afar the breeze brings +delicious, pungent, spicy odors from the wild Everlasting flowers, and +the mushrooms are pearly in the grass. I gather the seed-pods in the +garden beds, sharing their bounty with the birds I love so well, for +there are enough and to spare for us all. Soon will set in the fitful +weather, with fierce gales and sullen skies and frosty air, and it will +be time to tuck up safely my Roses and Lilies and the rest for their +long winter sleep beneath the snow, where I never forget them, but ever +dream of their wakening in happy summers yet to be. + +[Illustration: _Sunset and the Pinafore_] + + + + + =Transcriber’s Notes= + + Perceived typographical errors have been silently corrected. + + Illustrations have been moved nearer to the text to which they refer. + As a result, the page numbers listed in the illustrations table may be + incorrect. + + Inconsistencies in hyphenation and compound words have been maintained + as printed. + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 78885 *** |