my last year's seedlings have flowered in order to get seed. 

 It is useless to try to buy seed : one gets a packet of fluff with 

 hardly a fertile seed among it, and it will not germinate if more 

 than three months old. These seeds have the reputation of 

 being very difficult to germinate, but given fresh fertile seed 

 nothing is easier. They must, however, be sown the right 

 way. Take a tin (or " flat ") of fine potting soil, and put the 

 seeds in one at a time, with the pappus or fluff sticking up and 

 the blunt end of the seed firmly pressed in. Then there is 

 seldom a miss in germination. Anyone who has watched a 

 dandelion seed sowing itself can see just how it is done. 



The world seems very still and quiet with what Miss Rider 

 Haggard in Norfolk describes as " the still secrecy of late 

 summer " ; there is no breeze, and the wings of the tiny birds 

 as they fly past on their way to my ripe figs seem to make a 

 loud noise. Fortunately on Sundays we are spared the loud 

 bashings of tins by small boys in the vineyards ; they are 

 supposed to be keeping the birds off the ripe grapes, but in 

 reality they are eating more than the flocks of mouse-birds 

 or starlings dislodged by them on one side of the vineyard 

 only to settle on the other. 



Baubinia Galpini is in flower, a beautiful shrub blooming 

 from mid-summer onwards, when we badly need colour in 

 our parched gardens. It is not quite a creeper or climber, but 

 does best with some support. The flowers are not exactly 

 tomato-red, but slightly pinker. The clusters nearly cover the 

 long branches of dark green leaves for at least three months. 

 I have it backed by silver trees and a solid bank of the grey 

 foliage of Leucospermum reflexum a most satisfying combi- 

 nation, and quite by chance, as my happiest plantings mostly 

 are. 



