CHAPTER ONE 



IN THE MAKING 



Take thy plastic spade, it is thy pencil; take thy seed, thy plants, 

 they are thy colours. Mason. 



ITT IS well, I think, for all gardeners, present or pros- 

 pective, to be reminded that the words "garden," 

 *- "yard," and "orchard" all spring from an Aryan 

 root meaning an enclosure; for apparently, in the general 

 letting down of barriers, which seems to be the order of 

 our day, there is more than a little danger of the garden 

 losing one of its greatest charms that of privacy and 

 peaceful seclusion. 



Many suburban places are quite open to the street, so 

 that for all freedom from observation their owners may 

 enjoy they might as well be in a public park; and often, 

 on large country places, the space devoted to flowers is 

 not divided from the surrounding country by any 

 distinct boundary, but trails away indefinitely, so that 

 one quite loses the significant delight of going into the 

 garden, of being within an enclosure set apart for a 

 special and beautiful purpose. 



For many centuries the idea of a garden as an en- 

 closed, protected area prevailed, and, indeed, it is only 



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