OF SHRUBS 



too, with its stout hooked prickles and splendid scarlet fruit, the 

 highbush cranberry and the barberry, the winterberry and the 

 Rocky Mountain plum, the Missouri currant and the low white 

 Xew Jersey tea. The fragrance of the Rhus aromatica, the bay- 

 berry, and the sweet fern of Xew England what memories they 

 bring to us! 



By the bridge leading to the island a mass of button-bush grows, 

 with its white sweet balls. The lythrum's tall pink spikes, and 

 the yellow iris, the jewel weed, and the red-stemmed dogwood fol- 

 low the water's edge to the tangle of wild grapes and milkweed, 

 where the forest touches the lake. Directly in front of the house, 

 at the water's edge we planted, literally, thousands of wild roses, 

 the rosa blanda and Carolina, lucida and humilis. 



I never can decide which I like the best, the deep shell pink or 

 the ivory white. I go from blossom to blossom, scissors in hand 

 trying to make up my mind to cut the very choicest for the vases, 

 but I hesitate, and the choicest ones remain on the living bush, 

 while the soft summer breezes waft their delicate fragrance through 

 every open casement. 



My three favorite shrubs are the hippophse rhamnoides, the 

 aralia pentaphylla, and the viburnum cassinoides, and this in spite 

 of their names. Of course, women are likely to be narrow, and I 

 would not be understood as wishing to confine my garden to these 

 three varieties. But as I look over the graceful lines of the planta- 

 tion, my eyes rest gratefully on the orange fruit and soft gray foliage 



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