Juuy, 1908 
seemed to be neatness. The banks of a 
roadway ought to be grass, he said. Any- 
thing else was weeds. So he cut down 
everything I valued and left the only thing 
that was really troublesome — the poison 
ivy on the fences. That evening I spent 
over my nursery catalogues. Twelve of 
those eighteen wayside “weeds” I could 
buy, but to replace them in the same 
quantity would cost $2,000! 
I don’t mean to say that this ignorant 
laborer absolutely destroyed $2,000 worth 
of property. Fortunately, the most ap- 
propriate plants for roadsides are long- 
lived and will spring up again after such 
disasters. But in a single day one may 
destroy that much beauty for that season. 
And nobody seemed to care but me. 
But surely there are many others who care 
for roadside beauty. Joseph Parsons does, 
because he is tree warden in the country 
about Lakeville, Connecticut, on the 
magnificent salary of $75 a year, all of which 
he spends for trees to line those roadways 
where the hot sun beats down in mid- 
summer on man and beast. He cares 
enough, also, to’ raise trees from seeds in a 
little home nursery, just as you or I could do 
in any backyard, and in seven years he has set 
out many seedling trees higher than a man. 
Come now, don’t you think everybody 
of refinement cares about the mellow, old 
roadsides of New England with their 
arching elms, vine-covered stone walls, 
endless succession of bushes and occasional 
colonies of robust wayside weeds or flowers 
that have escaped from gardens? 
Weeds? Let me tell you that there is 
no other subject in the world that people 
have so distorted out of all true relation to 
life. Whenever an experiment station has 
all its scientists dismissed and their places 
Toadflax, or butter-and-eggs. Example of the 
homely wayside flowers that are most beautiful in 
large, permanent colonies 
THE GARDEN MAGAZINE 
Some ferns are sun-loving. Here is a colony of 
one of them 
taken by politicians, it begins to issue 
bulletins on weeds. Yet everybody knows 
that rotation of crops will knock out 
practically every one and a little gumption 
will finish the rest. There is not a single 
weed that any first class farmer need really 
fear. And it is the irony of fate that those 
who ought to extract the most pleasure from 
the simple beauty of homely, every-day 
scenes rarely do. The person who has only 
one viewpoint toward weeds is a_ blind, 
imprisoned soul. Every weed, no matter 
how humble, hasits poetic moment. Usually, 
of course, this is when it flowers, but 
milkweed is a poem when its downy seeds 
sail like so many parachutes, and the silvery 
rosettes of mullein leaves are a joy through- 
out the growing season. 
What weeds, then, would I destroy 
if I were roadmaster for the universe? 
Precious few. Wouldn’t the farmers 
complain? Oh, yes, but they are n’t serious 
about it. If they were, they could cut down 
the weeds along their roadside just after 
flowering, in less time than it takes to 
grumble. The farmer’s grumbling about 
weeds is only a part of the unconscious 
humor of country life. The only weeds 
I have ever seen in country-like suburbs 
that a township or village ought to spend its 
money on are poison ivy, because it causes 
a very few people great suffering; nettles, 
which sting the unwary; and ragweed 
(Ambrosia artemisie folia), which is the 
commonest source of hay fever, as has been 
proved many times, while goldenrod, which 
gets all the blame, is quite innocent. 
If Mr. Carnegie should give the Roadside 
Gardening Club a million dollars to beautify 
the country roads of America, how much do 
you suppose we would spend on garden 
plants such as roses, snowballs, peonies, 
tulips and the like? Not one cent. Why? 
One reason is that most garden flowers 
could not be bought cheaply enough, or 
they would require care after planting or 
would be overwhelmed by enemies. But 
these practical objections, we “wild gar- 
deners” believe, are of no importance. The 
vital fact is that gardenesque flowers can 
never be appropriate along country road- 
sides. Golden-leaved elder and _purple- 
leaved barberry can never harmonize with 
our landscape. We do not want any double 
flowers there or any that have been pro- 
foundly modified by man. Even if we could 
afford them we would not plant them. 
323 
But we would spend half of that million 
dollars on native trees, shrubs, vines, and 
perennials. The other half, I fancy, we 
should spend in advertising the beauty 
of native plants, so that people would not 
merely keep others from destroying what 
roadside beauty we have, but would gather 
and sow seeds, transplant vines, and move 
to the roadsides trees, bushes, and perennials 
that can be had for nothing but the labor 
of our own hands. 
All we ask is that in your leisure time this 
year you spend the equivalent of one day’s 
time in beautifying one portion of the road- 
way that you use daily. You can become a 
member of the Roadside Gardening Club: 
if you move one native tree to the roadside,. 
or three bushes or six vines or two dozen 
perennials of one kind, or sow one ounce 
of seeds in such a way as to form a 
permanent, self-supporting colony. If you 
will write me (who am not an officer but just 
an humble scrivener) that you ‘“‘ would like 
to be enrolled among the elect” I will send 
you without charge any interesting news 
or help I get; tell you the Latin names of any 
of the plants mentioned below and where 
you can see pictures of them; explain how 
you can get seeds of native plants cheaply 
by the ounce or pound; and show how you 
can get plants in quantity of any desirable 
variety that has been exterminated from 
your neighborhood. 
In return I ask two favors; first, that you 
send me a stamped, self-addressed envelope 
for reply; second, that you send me for 
publication any photographs that will help 
the cause, preferably a picture showing a 
colony established by yourself. 
Bouncing Bet, example of roadside “‘“weeds”’ 
that are too coarse for gardens but are harmless 
and appropriate for roadsides 
