116 GARDENING WITH BRAINS ^ 



ciative. In reward for the self-abnegation of the 

 oseille they give it a rich place in the garden 

 where it can be happy, and the best intensive 

 cultivation. Then they eat it. Wouldn't you 

 rather be eaten by epicures than just rudely 

 hoed down? 



In one respect the sorrel is like other plants. 

 There are no old maids in the vegetable world. 

 Every individual plant regards it as its moral 

 duty to leave as many children as possible. I 

 have sometimes thought that I would count all 

 the seeds on a single wild mustard plant, but 

 when I looked at it my courage oozed away. 

 Life is short. Wild sorrel also produces seeds by 

 the million; the tops of the plants paint whole 

 fields a rich brown, so that any one who under- 

 stands the language of flowers can read at a 

 distance, "This soil needs lime." 



THE INTELLIGENCE OF PLANTS 



If you think plants have no intelligence, the 

 ingenuity they display in the matter of having 

 children must surely seem to you nothing short 

 of miraculous. Take any one of a dozen weeds 

 that might be named. If they begin life early 

 in spring, when the soil is rich and moist from 

 frequent showers, they spend lots of time in 

 growing tall and sending out side branches 

 covered with blossoms, laying their plans for 

 progeny with old-fashioned patriarchal lavish- 

 ness. But if they begin their career late in 



