122 PACIFIC STATES FLORAL CONGRESS. 



There were bouquets of later and prettier styles. Our early florist, 

 who raised flowers in the suburbs of San Francisco, tied them in 

 bunches before leaving home. Placing them closely together in a bas- 

 ket, he started out for the green border. This he found in the vacant 

 sand-lots bounded by Folsom, Valencia, Tenth, and Sixteenth Streets. 

 It was the low-growing chamisal, or greasewood, which somewhat 

 resembled the old-fashioned box-border plant. These bouquets were 

 very unlike the long-stemmed, artistic creations of the present day, 

 the harmonious colors of which are well displayed by the graceful 

 sprays of the adiantum fern. This fern is to the flowers what lace 

 is to human faces, toning down or hiding what is not lovely, while 

 the charms of the beautiful are enhanced by its use. 



As time wore on, there were, besides the little home gardens, a 

 few public gardens in the then suburbs of the city, notably "Kuss 

 Gardens" and the "Willows." Later on, R. B. Woodward opened his 

 gardens to the public. School exhibitions and crowning of May queens 

 took place in '58 and '60 at Russ Gardens. A little stream, near which 

 Avillows grew, a number of cultivated plants, a pavilion, and a few 

 swings combined in making this a lovely resort. Those who could not 

 walk were obliged to pay twenty-five cents omnibus fare. 



Another place where San Franciscans went on picnics was located 

 at the "Mission," and was known as the "Willows." The hard-beaten 

 path inside its entrance testified as to its attractions for pleasure- 

 seekers. A large flag near the path floated to the breeze on holidays. 

 At the foot of a little slope some scrubby trees were growing. Over 

 these trees, blackberry and other climbing vines grew in wild luxuri- 

 ance. By separating and spreading the vines, entrances had been made 

 into natural summer-houses. Inside were stationary tables and seats 

 where families used to spread their luncheons. The "Willows" has 

 passed and gone, and all that is left to remind one of this- old-time 

 resort is a house on Mission and Eighteenth Streets and the "Willow 

 Brewery" near by. 



In comparison with the parks and gardens of the present time, 

 "Russ Gardens" and the "Willows" were small and insignificant, but 

 once they served to foster a love of plants and flowers. 



It was a surprise to some when R. B. Woodward, living on Mission, 

 between Thirteenth and Fifteenth Streets, opened his gardens to the 

 public. "It was too far out of town," they said. The live and stuftVd 

 birds and animals, the aquarium, and the music were not the onlv 

 attractions. Here the flower lover might stroll by the hour, in the 

 gardens and through the conservatory, and imagine himself in fairyland. 

 Between the conservatory and the picture gallery was a small window, 

 over and around which plants and graceful vines were growing. This 



