MY SHRUBS 5 
if they lose their new wood in the winter, the bloom will not 
come, when that is the wood they flower upon. I had what 
appeared a happy thought for protecting the buds of tree paonies 
last year, and packed them into straw bottle-cases. But it was 
not a success, for I bruised the buds. A screen hung over them 
to break the frost is all they need. The early-flowering rhododen- 
drons must also have protection for the bud, while such tender 
folk as R. griffithianum, R. sesterianum, or R. Falconeri, though 
safe in many West Country gardens, are always a little coddled 
by me if the weather turns very cold. The noble hybrids of 
Griffithianum are, however, hardy here, and call for no care. 
What remarkable views nurserymen have, by the way, on the 
subject of hardiness in a shrub! These poets always know where 
there is one specimen doing magnificently in the open air. They 
mention the identical garden, so that there shall be no deception. 
And we, with warmer gardens and equal energy and enterprise, 
picture the superb thing flourishing with us also, and emulating 
Sir Somebody’s famous piece, that was planted in early Victorian 
times and never looked back. Then we pay our half-guinea, and 
get it—three inches high, with four leaves and a hectic flush, as 
who would say: “The dying salutes thee.” Of course nobody 
hears much more about it. When questioned by a jealous but 
tactless friend, we pass the matter off lightly, and say it was quite 
over-estimated, or the mice ate it, or something of that sort. But 
he knows the truth, and tells our rivals that we failed with it. 
Again, there is the shrub that the growers, with a sudden twinge 
of conscience, frankly confess needs a favoured district. Never 
trust that plant outside a stove. Still, of course, one goes on 
believing the nurserymen year after year. They expect it, and 
