COLOUR IN MY GARDEN 



and buff that endowed the blue flowers with a shimmering 

 spirit that would certainly not have been theirs without 

 those unbidden companions. 



There is some blue in the garden from the earliest spring. 

 It begins with the Chionodoxas, Scillas, Grape Hyacinths, 

 and Forget-me-nots that precede the Lungworts, creeping 

 Veronicas, and Flax flowers; but perhaps the Italian An- 

 chusa, with its several varieties, may be said to head the 

 tide of midsummer blue, and right royally it holds its 

 position. It belongs to the same family as do the potent 

 Borage of the Herb Garden and the Viper's Bugloss that 

 stains whole stretches of wasteland in certain sections with 

 inimitable colour, to the wrath of the farmer and the de- 

 light of the idle wayfarer. 



It may be said that the Anchusa has "taken the eye" of 

 the gardening public, and bids fair to be as popular as the 

 Phlox or the Delphinium. This is not surprising, for 

 though we are puzzled by its capricious biennial-perennial 

 tricks, the Anchusa faces our drought-ridden climate with 

 supreme complaisance, for which alone we owe it a debt of 

 gratitude. It is as indifferent to cold, too (though in heavy, 

 damp soils it occasionally winter kills), and has a long 

 period of cerulean flowering. There is about it, however, a 

 certain indifference to garden standards that keeps it out 

 of the ranks of the exquisites; a laxness of carriage, a ten- 

 dency to flop on its neighbours, and its foliage is undeniably 

 coarse. But there can be no fault found with the tints in 

 which it decks itself. The old parent Alkanet, Anchusa 

 italica, is satisfying enough as to blueness, but each succes- 

 sive introduction — Dropmore, Perry's, Lissadel, Opal — seems 



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