118 STATE HOKTICULTUKAL SOCIETY.- 



I 



Mr. E. M. Potter, of Kalamazoo, then read the following on 



THE FARM GARDEN. 



It is an old adage that "one's practice is seldom any better than his 

 theory," and realizing some of this has caused me to hesitate somewhat 

 about producing this paper, and if any of my neighbors are here, please don't 

 amuse anybody by saying, ''you just ought to see his garden once." One will 

 never hit the mark if he does not aim towards it, and if I cannot offer any 

 suggestions that will be of service to others my own thoughts and expressions 

 at this time may aid my practice hereafter. 



My earliest recollections of a farm garden are of one in size about 6x9 rods, 

 just across the driveway from a farm-house in western New York, where, like 

 Topsy, " I 'specs I fustest started to grow." This plat was of a limestone clay 

 soil with a very heavy red clay sub-soil, underneath which, at the depth of 

 8 to 12 feet, was an inexhaustible bed of rock which extended from the bed 

 of the Genesee river and underlying a great section of country. This garden 

 was enclosed by a fence of white oalc posts and basswood boards with a 

 little gate about the middle of the west end, which led to a walk reach- 

 ing to the east end and terminating in a grape arbor with a large, partially 

 neglected Isabella vine on the south side, and a Catawba on the north 

 side, showing that the planter did not understand the habits of these varie- 

 ties or else their relative positions would have been reversed. While the 

 Isabella yielded an abundance of well matured grapes we seldom got any 

 ripe Catawbas except where the vines ran over the top of the arbor 

 and exposed the foliage and fruit to the more direct rays of the sun. 

 And right here let me say that if a grape arbor is desired, it should 

 invariably extend north and south, so that botli sides will get equal benefit 

 from the sun. On either side of the walk were a great variety of rose 

 bushes, pinks and bulbous roots, wliich my good mother had procured from 

 her friends near and far. On the west, north and east sides were currant 

 bushes interspersed with peach and plum trees, the latter falling victims to the 

 black knot after bearing abundant crops for a number of years. In the north- 

 west corner were two quince bushes; one we used to call the "large yellow 

 ones," and the other "the green ones," — probably the orange and angiers 

 varieties and undoubtedly both purchased for orange quinces of some reliable 

 nurseryman. (Probably the nurseryman was the victim of misplaced confi- 

 dence or ignorance when he procured his cuttings.) These currants and 

 quinces received annually a good supply of chip manure and never failed their 

 crops during my recollection. On the south side, next the street fence, was 

 an asparagus bed about five feet wide and one-half the length of the garden, and 

 a strawberry bed extending nearly to the southeast corner. The asparagus 

 bed, which got all the old salt brine in the fall, and a liberal top dressing of 

 barnyard manure, was the only one, I think, in the whole school district, and 

 neighbors far and near used to call in the early season to get "just a leetle of 

 the Squire's asparagus," and if I remember right one of the regular spring 

 errands your humble servant did was to carry Grandma Jameson, who lived 

 half a mile away, a bunch of asparagus. I liked to go for I always found a 

 kind word at the end of the route. Grandma Jameson was a good hearted 

 old lady with a wonderful gift of good common-sense, a first-class nurse and 

 always on hand if any in the neighborhood were ill. She was an accom- 

 plished knitter, and while we always called her grandma she was none of our 



