i6o 



Garden and Forest. 



[Number 163. 



in winter and speckled with little spikes of flower-buds. These 

 appear as the leaves fall off. They resemble small aments 

 and will bear close inspection. They are formed of reddish 

 brown rhomboidal buds, symmetrically arranged on the axis 

 of the cluster. Each hud has a fringe of light-colored hairs, 

 and a dark centre, sharply contrasting with this pale border, 

 and looking as if set in a frame of hairs. The tiny spikes have 

 a checkered appearance, and viewed in mass give to the plants 

 a delicate charm. 



The most common evergreen shrub is the Bearberry 

 (Artostaphylos Uva-ursi), literally covering the surface of 

 some of the sand-ridges near the lake, and abundant in places 

 farther away. The globular berries, dark red or brown, still 

 hang to the vines, but the varied colors of the leaves are their 

 chief distinction. In sheltered localities some of the thick 

 obovate or spatulate leaves remain of a shining green, but the 

 greater part have assumed tints of brighter color. The typical 

 colors, aside from green, are crimson, purple and vinous, and 

 there are all gradations in the shades connecting these. The 

 nearer leaves, near the ends of the stem and branches, are 

 mostly of the brightest colors, especially the crimson shades. 

 These colors often give to the ground a very gay appearance, 

 as if covered by a carpet of variegated pattern, the splashes of 

 color being extensively intermixed. When the stems rest 

 upon a slope the effect is striking, or even brilliant. The 

 stems are slender and whip-like, branching but little. They 

 sometimes have a length of four or five feet, particularly on 

 the slopes of ridges near the shore of the lake, where they run 

 along the surface of the sands and attain their greatest vigor. 

 Gathered at this season, or late in the fall, after the leaves 

 have changed, they serve admirably for decoration. The 

 leaves remain attached to the stems a long time in the dry 

 heat of a house, and retain their colors well, so that they can 

 be kept upon a wall from one season to another. 



Englewood, HI. -£• 7- Hill. 



How We Renewed an Old Place. 



II. — PLANTING WILLOWS AND PINES. 



WHEN one has nearly half a mile of boundary to define 

 around his four-acre lot, the question arises how it can 

 be enclosed with the least expense and trouble, and in such a 

 way as not to disfigure the grounds. With this problem we 

 had now to deal. 



The front upon the main street, thanks to. the sociable 

 fashion of our day, it would be quite proper to leave open, 

 with only such screen of shrubs and trees as we should decide 

 upon when the house was built, and the lawn properly graded. 

 Part of it was already well hedged in with ancient bushes 

 which straggled about, where the old house stood, in most ad- 

 mired disorder. But all along Winter Street, as the lane behind 

 us is somewhat ambitiously designated, the fence was tumbling 

 down, and the whole garden spot lay uncomfortably open to 

 view, as well as to the cold east winds that blow across the 

 meadow from the sea. We decided that here a row of Willows 

 would come in admirably, as there would be plenty of rich 

 moist soil for the young trees to root in, and with such a pro- 

 tection the wind-swept garden would in time be warm and 

 secluded, while the silvery foliage would be a harmonious 

 setting for the emerald meadow, and the sapphire stream. 



This idea we carried out the week after we made our pur- 

 chase. A friendly farmer neighbor, compassionating our folly 

 in starting such an enterprise, but anxious to see what we 

 would make out of the place, kindly offered to give us as many 

 cuttings as we wanted, so one bright day in June he appeared 

 upon the scene with a cart-load of Willows, a crowbar, and a 

 hatchet, and, with a man or two to help him, before night he 

 had cut and driven firmly into holes, easily punched by the 

 crowbar in the soft soil, some five hundred bare stakes, every 

 one of which in a few weeks put forth a crop of roots and 

 leaves. 



The stakes, sharpened at the end, were about three feet in 

 length, one foot of which was driven into the ground, and 

 firmly stamped into place. It was found better in driving them 

 to have them set at an angle of about twenty degrees, with the 

 tops pointing toward the south, so that the stems did not re- 

 ceive the full force of the midday and afternoon sun. We 

 used the common White Willow [Salix alba), which abounds 

 along swampy road-sides everywhere in New England. 



These trees have all thriven well, though, owing to the 

 marsh being salter in certain places than in others, some have 

 grown less rapidly than their companions. The fear of the 

 salt-water led us into the error of planting one row of trees at 

 first inside the fence, and at some distance from it, where the 



presence of Clover and English Grass showed that the top soil 

 was fresh. Subsequently, when they were well rooted, we re- 

 moved them to the outside along the highway, where they 

 now begin to make an agreeable shade, and an effective screen. 

 The annual dumpings of sand made by the town along the 

 edge of the road, to maintain its level which constantly tends 

 to sink into the marsh across which it has been carefully built, 

 seem to .help the trees, which continue to send out surface- 

 roots as the ground rises about them ; and though some of 

 them during their first seasons had a sorry time of it in. dry, 

 hot weather, they ultimately pulled through, and are no longer 

 sources of anxiety. 



The most exposed portion of the place being thus provided 

 for, we turned our attention to the barren hill-side, which was 

 a pretty hopeless-looking spot for trees of any kind. This ele- 

 vation, some forty feet high and running back nearly 600 feet 

 from the main street, seems to be the bank of some former 

 water-way ; at least I like to fancy that the odd terraces, 

 which break its otherwise even slope, represent the gradual 

 subsidence of some body of water which must once have 

 filled the gorge, when the present meadow was an arm of the 

 sea. Gravel and sand, mixed with moderate-sized cobble- 

 stones, are its constituent parts, nothing like a boulder having 

 come so far down. We have often regretted that some of the 

 noble rocks which abound on the other side of the street, far- 

 ther up the former stream, were not on our hill to form a feat- 

 ure in our landscape-gardening, marked as they are with the 

 scratches which show the grinding of some primeval glacier. 



Over the rough foundation of our hill a thin soil has formed 

 itself ; fairly deep on the level top where the plain begins, but 

 constantly washed off down the sides into the swale below. It 

 seems hardly possible that trees can ever have grown here, 

 nor are there the smallest traces of any in or upon the soil ; 

 but here we resolved that trees should grow ; and again the 

 farmers mocked at such a wild idea, and looked forward with 

 sombre satisfaction to our discomfiture. 



But how to set about it ? 



To plow the surface, unless we could yoke a goat to the 

 plow, seemed impossible, since we had just seen a man and a 

 horse and a dump-cart roll together, in a confused but un- 

 harmed heap, from the top to the bottom, on account of an 

 incautious step off of the level. Even if we could have plowed 

 the ungrateful soil, of what use would it have been, since there 

 was nothing to bring to the surface but stones ? Cultivation 

 being apparently out of the question, the trees would have to 

 take their chance, and a wretched chance, too, for the south 

 shore of Massachusetts Bay is subject to long and severe 

 droughts and to several months of hot weatherin thesummer. 



But here we were upheld by our authorities. An excellent book 

 on forestry gave us some consoling statistics, and later, Gar- 

 den and Forest was invaluable in its suggestions. We found 

 that in reforesting hills in France and Switzerland that had 

 been swept bare by avalanches, a north-east slope proved the 

 most favorable exposure for the growth of young Pines, and, 

 if we had nothing else, we had plenty of north and east, with 

 the winds thrown in ; so, if that was the sort of thing that they 

 liked, why, bring on the Pines, and let them have all they want 

 of it. 



But by the time we got round fo this job, as the farmers say, 

 the season for spring-planting of Pines was over, and an ex- 

 ceptionally dry and burning summer was in full blast, and the 

 very grass on the hill was crisped and dry. Our impatience, 

 however, was too great to permit us to wait for another year 

 to begin our experiment. We had read some accounts of 

 August planting of Pines, and determined to have our little 

 fling on the spot, and find out for ourselves whether it was a 

 good time or not. 



So we waited, as anxiously as the prophet Elijah, for the first 

 sign of rain, and when at last the brassy heavens veiled them- 

 selves in cloud about the middle of August, we started off after 

 trees — not the pampered darlings of a nursery, used to water 

 and rich soil, but the hardy road-side denizens of dry pastures 

 and sand-hills. We picked out the driest and sandiest spots 

 to dig them in, so that if their roots discovered nothing to feed 

 upon in their new locality, they would, from long habit, have 

 got used to short commons, and could adapt themselves to the 

 situation. 



Before going out we had the men dig holes over the surface 

 of the side hill with a grub-hoe, banking up the thin soil at the 

 lower sides of the holes with sods, so as to make little dams to 

 retain the water ; in these holes we set the trees we selected, 

 which were not over three feet high, but stocky and well 

 rooted. When possible we took up the dirt with them, keep- 

 ing their roots moist, and well shaded in the cart, and no more 

 were brought at a time than could be set in two or three 



