180 The Amateur's Booh of the Dahlia 



leaves turn yellow and die, and the bare stakes 

 have been set in place, the climbing roses which 

 drape the cedar posts and chains, marking the 

 boundary of the rose garden, are all aglow with 

 pink and white and red and yellow. The tall 

 "perpetuals" reach up to meet the climbers and 

 the little tea roses bring the colour down almost 

 to the stone paths, edged with sweet alyssum and 

 tiny sedums. The bloom at that time is so 

 glorious, no one has a thought for what may be 

 behind it; and when July comes and the roses 

 flag, the dahlias have made headway enough to 

 show a good green background. 



By the first of August, the "old wood" of the 

 climbing roses has been cut out, and a few of the 

 dahlias not destined for exhibition purposes have 

 been allowed to bloom. Their smiling faces peep 

 at us over the roses and we are invited to come 

 out and enjoy them. 



My "trial garden" is seen beyond a sweep of 

 lawn. It is thirty-five feet wide and is inter- 

 spersed with a few laurel bushes which dis- 

 creetly keep their feet under their petticoats and 

 never encroach upon the domain of others. In 

 the foreground are low-growing shrubs — none 

 more than three and a half feet high, planned 

 to give bloom in the spring and fruit in the 

 autumn. In front of these are peonies, the old- 



