64 MY GROWING GARDEN 



I trimmed to a "whip," meaning a straight stem 

 without branches, and its fine roots I also shortened 

 just a little. 



A hole two feet deep was dug, and at its bottom 

 a crowbar was driven down another two feet. 

 Into this four-foot depth was slipped a stick of 

 forty per cent dynamite. After the thorough 

 "tamping-in" that followed, the dynamite was 

 exploded, shaking up the subsoil quite thoroughly 

 without bringing much of it to the surface. In the 

 re-shaped hole, with much good soil, bone dust 

 and manure packed well away from its present 

 roots, the Smokehouse was planted. It grew 

 vigorously last season, and will, I hope, accomplish 

 its destined work of beginning to bear in about 

 five years, aided by heavy summer pruning. Four 

 fine pear trees were similarly planted, and have 

 responded pleasingly. 



Toward the end of April the sun usually has 

 started things into the joy of spring in this garden. 

 The grass, of course, is delightfully green quite 

 early in the month, and the flowers that consider 

 early snows only an impertinence of waning winter 

 are blooming before the fifteenth. Crocuses carry- 

 ing over from March have made the south-facing 

 border gay; the deepened sky-blue of the scilla 

 has excited us along the walk from the house; and 



