248 GARDEN HARVEST 



banks with pergolas of roses. Here is Waltham 

 rambler, whose flower-clusters, resembling apple 

 blossom, begin to grow white as their days of 

 beauty draw to a close. Aimee Vibert is near by, 

 and Homer's rather precise-looking pink buds 

 wave against the spotless deep-blue sky, that we 

 who live near the coast are so lucky in often having. 

 But there are all kinds of roses, and in order to 

 enjoy them from varying points of view the per- 

 golas are so arranged that on the southern side 

 of the garden they are lower than the eye of the 

 spectator, who here looks down upon roofs of 

 treillage to where pink flower-clusters strain for- 

 ward to gain the sunshine, whilst, turning to the 

 other side, he sees the flowers high above his head. 

 In this way it is possible to carry colour in all 

 directions, and without being satisfied only with 

 carpets such as dwarf pink Bourbons and La 

 France give, to mount yet higher to some twelve 

 feet from the ground, where Hiawatha, Lady Gay, 

 and Dorothy Perkins sway in festoons of resplen- 

 dent reds and pinks. 



We have gained an impression of the rose har- 

 vest, now let us see what other things can help 

 towards making winter days more pleasant. Many 

 bunches of golden-leaved thyme have to be picked 

 and carefully dried, so that sweet-smelling bags 

 filled with it can be laid beneath pillows and in 

 the folds of linen sheets. Golden gourds, too, are 

 brought indoors and they and other miniature 

 striped green-and-white ones are arranged in blue 

 china bowls or upon trays, to stand reflected on 

 the shining boards of highly polished oak tables. 



