The Moelwyn Garden 



its owner, and I have never visited it without coming 

 away with some new impression, and some new realiza- 

 tion of the meaning of ' ' gardening for beauty. ' ' One 

 or two little pictures for the pictures are all in propor- 

 tion to the area covered by the garden are eloquent 

 in their expression of the fact that no pains are spared 

 to garden for all seasons, and every day of the year. 

 A brief description of those contained within one small 

 area should prove instructive. 



The first is in early February. The pale light of the 

 afternoon sun falls on the graceful, arching branches of 

 one of the Chinese Barberries Wilsonae. Still cling- 

 ing to the branches are myriads of last year's leaves, 

 that in a duller, greyer light would be sombre brown, 

 but in this every tiny leaf takes on a rich and ever 

 changing tint : bronze, gold, sienna, burnt and raw, a 

 little orange, and a shimmer of warmth, as of the crim- 

 son glow cast by a flickering fire. True, it may be 

 only an impression, and upon close analysis it dis- 

 appears, but the impression is very vivid. At its feet 

 there spreads a broad mass of the winter flowering 

 heath, Erica carnea, almost mossy in its fresh bright 

 green, and delicately beautiful with its sheets of pink 

 flowers and cream-tinted buds. It has been in flower 

 now for six weeks, and is good for another six. Side 

 by side with it is a mass of autumn-flowering heather, 

 principally varieties of Erica vulgaris, on which last 

 autumn's flowers have assumed a ruddy brown tint, 

 and the foliage is still a dull dark bronze green. From 

 this rises another beautiful Berberis, Thunbergii minor, 

 every bud just bursting into being with that soft yellow- 

 green hue that gives a suggestion of awakening spring. 



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