There seems to be such a personal interest in the sun-room where there are not only the growing plants but one can actually live and work with them 



Residents and Transients of a Sun-room 



By Hally C. Brent, 



Mary- 

 land 



NOT long ago I listened with awe 

 and discouragement to an ac- 

 quaintance who, at a Garden 

 Club meeting, was holding 

 forth with pride upon the beauty of her 

 banana tree loaded with bananas. After 

 a few moments' further conversation I 

 learned that the aforesaid tree was the 

 inmate of an elaborate greenhouse, the 

 special care of a "post graduate" gardener, 

 and I wondered how the lady could take 

 any credit to herself in the matter. A 

 greenhouse is certainly delightful — every 

 one loves to wander through one, examining 

 the perfection of some rare and difficult 

 plant or to take from its treasures some 

 wonderful specimen to decorate the house — ■ 

 but where is struck that note of personal 

 satisfaction so dear to the heart of the real 

 flower lover? Have, by all means, both 

 the greenhouse and the sun-room if you 

 can, but don't make the mistake of thinking 

 that the former takes the place of the latter. 

 Perhaps it's because a greenhouse neces- 

 sitates an expert gardener; I don't know, 

 but the fact remains that there one enters, 

 lingers a little, and departs, more or less 

 a stranger in one's own. 



On the other hand, the woman who pos- 

 sesses a sun-room, plant lined and abun- 

 dantly fitted with comfortable chairs in 

 which to sink, trowel in hand, viewing the 

 fruits of her labors; who chooses her own 

 plants and "fusses" over them; tries her 

 own experiments; pots and repots; waters 

 and fertilizes; who sits amidst her "garden" 

 with books and sewing and welcomes there 

 her friends — does not this woman, be it 

 understood that she possess the soul of the 

 gardener, reap tenfold the satisfaction 

 experienced by the mere possessor of a 

 greenhouse? At least so it seems to me, 

 and my room is so dear to me and my suc- 

 cesses so soul-satisfying that I feel, inspired 

 to share my experiences with others. 

 In the first place, it is a rather large 



room (20 x 30 ft), having two sides, the 

 east and south, entirely of glass. A 2-foot 

 ledge runs round the sides holding window 

 boxes and pots, fern baskets hang suspended 

 from various hooks, and wicker stands and 

 tables, corresponding with the rest of the 

 furniture, support palms and larger plants. 

 The room is hot-water heated and electric 

 lighted, like the rest of the house, but of 

 all the adjuncts to the room the most im- 

 portant is, I think, direct water. Perhaps 

 this is the secret of the room's success, for 

 when watering becomes a tax and plants 

 are "skimped" ever so slightly, the highest 

 results fail. It does not take long to learn 

 exactly what quantity of water a plant 

 likes, and you must be prepared to treat 

 them as differently as so many individual 

 children. 



The "residents" of my room, by which I 

 mean the year-round occupants, some of 

 which serve as a background for the bloom- 

 ing plants, are easy-going, grateful things, 

 once you understand them. These "back- 

 ground-residents" consist of Kentia, and the 

 fine-leaved Phoenix palms, Norfolk Island 

 pines, many types of Boston fern, two varie- 

 ties of Draceana — the green and the red 

 leaved — and the deathless Aspidistra. The 

 flowering "residents" are the small leaved 

 coral-red Begonias, the single and double 

 Hibiscus, Geraniums (the large new single 

 varieties), Gardenias, Bougainvilleas, and 

 an occasional pot of a hardy Orchid, red 

 Peppers, Genista, Azalea and Heliotrope. 



But the ever changing aspect of the room 

 is due to the "transients" — the bulbs — - 

 and in this they serve a second purpose, in 

 that they stimulate, by their frequent 

 arrivals and gay succession, the interest of 

 the gardener to renewed efforts during the 

 long winter months. Paper-white Nar- 

 cissus Soleil d'Or, which is the yellow of the 

 above named variety, Freesias, Hyacinths, 

 Tulips, Calla, and Harrisii or Easter lilies 

 form the collection. With the excep- 



112 



tion of the Lilies, which should be put 

 in during August or September, all the 

 bulbs are potted up about October first. 

 The Narcissus, Tulips, and Hyacinths all 

 go into a dark closet, with only a very 

 slight allowance of water, until they be- 

 gin to show yellow and sickly above the 

 earth; they are then brought into the 

 room and in a few days become green and 

 strong. Despite their having been potted 

 at the same time they develop quite differ- 

 ently, some being ready for the light weeks 

 before others of exactly the same variety. 

 This being the case, I find the Narcissus 

 stringing along over a period of two months, 

 beginning to flower about December first. 

 Neither the Lilies nor the Freesias need to 

 be put away in the dark, and the Callas 

 and Freesias are starting to bloom by 

 Christmas, while the Harrisii quite appro- 

 priately bursts forth about Easter. 



After the Narcissus are quite finished, 

 the Tulips and Hyacinths vie with each 

 other in decorating the room, and in this 

 way the spring is reached and everyone's 

 interest becomes directed toward the real 

 garden out of doors — and the sun-room 

 has served its purpose! The exhausted 

 Dutch bulbs, are then thrown away, and 

 the Lilies taken up and stored to dry, pre- 

 paratory to repotting the coming fall. 



The cost — always an interesting con- 

 sideration — of such bulbs- as described is 

 very small as compared with the show they 

 produce; and the quantity to order, of 

 course, depends upon the size of the room. 

 For a room such as mine I find 1 dozen 

 Calla Lilies, price $2.50; 1 dozen Easter 

 Lilies, $1.75; 100 Paper White Narcissus, 

 $2. 100 Soleil d'Or, $2.50; 100 Freesias, 

 $1.75; 2 dozen Tulips, 50 cents; and 2 

 dozen Hyacinths, $1.50; give abundant 

 blooms, in fact almost an "embarras de 

 richesse." Total, $12.50 and when one 

 considers the intense pleasure they afford 

 everyone in the house, and the flowers 



