PLOTTING AND PLANNING 



some glimmering of the fascination that soil cultivation 

 compels, the non-materialisation of ideals is of less import ; 

 the gardener will feel impelled to follow with good, thick 

 boots the way his shoes have trodden. 



But turn the beginner on the ground on a typical 

 November day, when the sky hangs like a pall and a 

 keen wind whistles through the trees, thrust a spade 

 into his hands and bid him dig the cold, clammy soil, 

 and even a modern Mark Tapley will scarcely survive 

 the ordeal. Yet seat him (in his own inglenook with his 

 slippered toes well warmed by logs in the open grate, ply 

 him with gaudy catalogues full of coloured plates, show- 

 ing favourite flowers twice as big as they really are, 

 showing pink flowers red and red ones scarlet, surround 

 him with books about gardening that picture seductive 

 green walks between borders full to overflowing with 

 bloom, then you excite his imagination he dreams 

 dreams, sets up ideals, and sees the result of his labour 

 without counting the toil. 



When winter wanes at the touch of spring, when the 

 ground surface at least is dry and the sun breaks the 

 drab sky into a patchwork of blue and grey, turn him 

 out with spade and fork, and there shall be no looking 

 back. For spring is coming, winter is a thing of the past, 

 his thoughts turn naturally to fresh young life, just as 

 in autumn they turn to things that fade and fall and 

 die. It might, perhaps, be worth while to risk something 

 in October for the sake of a Daffodil and Tulip show in 



9 



