OUR COUNTRY HOME 



about twenty feet wide, for we knew the expansiveness of the grow- 

 ing shrub. Each year taking a foot at least from the sod, the 

 weedy spaces would soon resolve themselves into green alley-ways 

 between tall overhanging bushes; and when this desired effect was 

 accomplished, then, if too crowded, the plantations could be 

 thinned out by transplanting. 



There is one shrub on the place which strangers are sure to ask 

 about, and that is the sea buckthorn. It deserves to be better 

 known, at least in the West, for it adapts itself readily to our fresh- 

 water lakes. Its brilliant orange berries, clinging close to the stem 

 all winter and ripened by frost, form a tempting feast for the first 

 catbirds and robins. Its silvery gray foliage makes more vivid 

 the rich greens of the forsvthia and aralia pentaphylla planted 

 close to it. On the other side a mass of wild olives eighteen feet 

 in height reflects in deeper tones the grayish note of the buckthorn, 

 while across the path the thick leaves of the mountain sumac shine 

 in the sunlight, gorgeous alike when green, or in vivid autumnal 

 tints. Beyond, a clump of rosemary willows flanked by the 

 delicate tamarisk leads to the huge Wisconsin willow overhang- 

 ing the water. 



Along the shore path on the north, is a tangle of wildness, 

 mostly thorny things, with a tracery of brambles all through, which 

 leaf out early in the spring, making green curves of color amongst 

 the dark stems of the w r ild olives. Here the sweetbrier grows in 

 high towering sprays, with its rival the prairie rose, the dog rose, 



