COLOUR IN MY GARDEN 



they pine. Anchusa myosotidiflora is one of these — a 

 harrowing uncertainty in the prepared borders but of a most 

 gratifying dependability after it took up its residence in 

 the path. That favourite of my Irises, too, Iris tectorum, 

 has planted a colony at the edge of the path and here faces 

 every untoward climatic condition with entire serenity. 



Of course the explanation of this seeming anomaly is per- 

 fectly simple. Sufficient rich earth and humus have drained 

 down from the borders to nourish the plants, and while provid- 

 ing perfect drainage there is always plenty of moisture to be 

 found by thirsty roots among the gravel stones and sand of 

 the path. It is the same principle upon which we build our 

 rock gardens. Many a mountain plant finds in such a position 

 the conditions of its natural habitat comfortingly reproduced, 

 and any plant which fears the winter damp is far safer at the 

 path edge than in the heavier soil of the borders. 



As the season advances unsuspected annuals make their 

 appearance among their free-thinking sisters — California 

 Poppies and scarlet field Poppies; Snapdragons and little 

 clouds of Alyssum and Ageratum, Pansies, annual Anchusa, 

 and this year an ingratiating outlaw Morning Glory, coming 

 from no one knows where, wound its slender way upward 

 into the brown meshes of spent Gypsophila causing it to 

 flush warmly with the lovely alien bloom. 



These self-appointed border verges are ever a delight to 

 me. They give me many a gay surprise and accomplish 

 far more than I, with my heavier touch and anxious planning, 

 could ever hope to toward making the garden sweet and 

 approachable, full of charm and change and winsome per- 

 versity, a spot where every mood meets quick response. 



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