Which Flowers Will z you._ Grow? 



It's not very easy to decide! So the Editor asked a few acknowledged specialists and experts who have actually rendered service in extending 

 acquaintance with their special favorites to explain just why they worship at their chosen shrines. Perhaps the practical answer for the average 

 man is to dally with all until he gets an inspiration of his own. 



Why I Grow Peonies 



By A. P. Saunders, whose disinterested labors 

 {largely unappreciated by those, derive the benefit, 

 as Secretary of the American Peony Society are his 

 hobby, that diflers from so many hobbies in that 

 the benefits are shared by the whole world. Prof. 

 Saunders finds his real delight in rendering the 

 service as a recreation from his educational work. 



T^HE reasons one gives for an enthusiasm 

 ■*■ are never an explanation, but merely an 

 attempted justification of it. One man grows 

 Roses, another Peonies, 

 another Dahlias, each 

 choosing the flower he 

 likes best, and then later 

 defending his choice in a 

 manner as flattering to 

 his own intelligence as 

 he can make it. So, if 

 I were to say quite can- 

 didly why I specialized 

 in Peonies, I shouldhave 

 to admit that it is be- 

 cause I like them better than most other flowers. 

 Yet I can defend my choice with a number of 

 most excellent arguments. 



In the first place, everyone who has a garden 

 must be guided by two great limitations, the first 

 of nature, the second of circumstance. By the 

 limitation of nature I mean the conditions of soil 

 and climate; and by the limitation of circum- 

 stance I mean the condition of the pocketbook 

 which sets a limit to the amount of available 

 labor in the garden. 



Climate is the fundamental consideration, 

 and the Peony seems to rejoice in a bad climate. 

 The winters of the far Northwest have no terrors 

 for it; and Peony enthusiasts are to be found 

 from Manitoba to Alabama, and from California 

 to Maine. The only bad climate for the Peony 

 is one that is too good; that is, too warm and 

 gentle. 



In the question of soil the plant is no less oblig- 

 ing; if it be allowed some good food it frets itself 

 very little over questions of clay loam, sandy 

 loam, humus and the like. 



When we come to the labor problem it is, for 

 those who must keep busy a staff of gardeners, an 

 objection to the Peony that it requires so little care. 

 A small garden of a dozen or two dozen Peonies 

 could be well dug, manured, and planted in three 

 or four hours; and from that time onward the 

 plants would ask of their happy possessor not 

 more than a couple of hours' work during the 

 entire year, and would reward him with glorious 

 crops of bloom for twenty-five years ere the bed 

 would need re-making! What must be done 

 each year? The plants should be staked and 

 tied before the blooming season, and the bed 

 must be gone over three or four times with the 

 hoe to keep it clean; and that is all. 



Contrast the happy and care-free lot of the 

 Peony man with the burdened mind of the Rose 

 grower, for whom the season begins with a gen- 

 eral pruning, and the tying up of thorny climbers 

 — hatefullest of jobs — and ends with the laying 

 down of thorny climbers — still hatefuller — while 

 the interval is filled with the long round of sprays: 

 tobacco for thrip; paris green for sawfly; sulphide 

 for mildew; tobacco again, for aphis this time, 

 as the succeeding regiments of cooties of all sorts 

 follow after each other through the summer 

 months — but I was not asked to tell why I do not 

 grow Roses! 



But, someone says, the Peony has so little 

 fragrance, and those old reddish purple Peonies 

 are such an ugly color. To which I reply: 

 No worse, dear sir, than those old reddish purple 



— but I was not going to speak of Roses. And 

 as to fragrance, one word should be enough if 

 emphatically uttered. The plant lover who does 

 not know the odor of Peonies as one of the 

 choicest of garden scents — does not know the 

 odor of Peonies. 



Indeed it is not too much to say that only the 

 Peony enthusiast knows the Peony as it exists 

 to-day; for the older sorts that still survive in 

 the average garden are quite superseded by the 

 creations of our time, glorious blooms known as 

 yet only to the few, flowers of an unrivalled 

 splendor and perfection. Varieties like Le 

 Cygne, Therese, Milton Hill, Richardson's 

 Grandiflora, would be incredible if we did not 

 actually see them before our eyes; indeed they 

 are incredible in all the months of the year when 

 they are out of bloom. 



And that brings me to say a word on another 

 fault too often laid at the door of the Peony: 

 It has such a short season. No, that is the fault 

 of the planter who does not use the Peonies that 

 will give him a longer season. Six weeks is not 

 a short season, and it is not beyond what one may 

 have, by using a little intelligence. And after a 

 six-weeks season in a Peony garden, one needs 

 a rest from the excitement and crowded delights 

 of the time. 



Why then do I grow Peonies? Because in 

 color, fragrance, size, and form, the peony is of 

 unsurpassable loveliness; because the plants 

 reward a little care with generous returns; be- 

 cause they have no pests and rarely any disease; 

 because in a climate where only the hardiest 

 plants survive, the Peony "rejoiceth as a strong 

 man to run a race." 



Why the Sweet Pea 



? 



By David Burpee, head of the well known seed 

 house that has been so closely identified with the 

 introduction of the flower to the American public. 



HpHAT seemed like a very foolish question 

 ■*■ at first to me "Why the Sweet Pea ?" Sweet 

 Pea, most popular of Annuals, no other comes 

 near to approach it! The flower that I have ad- 

 mired since I have been old enough to admire a 

 flower. Why the Sweet Pea? I know now 

 that the answer to that question is not entirely 

 on the surface. 



I asked myself, Why the Sweet Pea above 

 other flowers? Is it the ease with which the 

 Sweet Pea can be grown? Is it the long stems 

 that make it so showy 

 in the garden and so 

 admirable for cutting? 

 Or is it the wonderful 

 colorings of the flower 

 itself? No, it is none 

 of these alone! It is 

 something deeper — a 

 hidden something in 

 the Sweet Pea. 



The Sweet Pea makes 

 its appeal through the 

 emotions not through 

 reasons. So how can 

 I answer "Why the 

 S|weetPea?" Sweet 

 Pea, fairy flower, that 

 waves in the garden 

 free from restraint. In the spirit of its delicate 

 beauty it is the flower of the artist — and still it is 

 the flower of democracy, commonly called "The 

 Poor Man's Orchid." 



Steadily and surely the Sweet Pea has grown 

 in popularity for years past, and with the intro- 

 duction of the waved Spencer type it went for- 

 ward with leaps and bounds. During these 



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few years of the twentieth century the Sweet 

 Pea has risen from its rank with other annuals 

 to take a place among the most wonderful of all 

 flowers — the Orchid and the Rose. 



It is true the Sweet Pea cannot approach the 

 almost lazy luxuriousness of the Orchid. Nor 

 can it equal the rich warmth of the Rose. The 

 beauty of each is unique. Each is supreme in a 

 field of its own — and none can surpass the others 

 because they do not live in parallel planes. 

 Orchid, oriental, spirit of the fatalist! Rose, 

 rich in its warmth, spirit of the materialist! 

 Sweet Pea, aesthetical, spirit of the spiritualist! 



In its own beauty the Sweet Pea is supreme and 

 yet it is within the scope of your garden and it 

 can be grown quickly from seed. That after all, 

 perhaps, is the answer. The Sweet Pea is the 

 finest there is in flowers and it can be grown in 

 your garden quickly from seed. 



Why I Grow Dahlias 



By Maurice Fuld, who years ago stirred up the 

 latent interest in this flower that is largely responsi- 

 ble for the present day popularity. 



WHEN one is as 

 intense a flower 

 lover as I am, it is 

 rather difficult to ex- 

 plain one particular 

 kind championed more 

 than any other. Of 

 course, we all have our 

 favorites. 



I chose the Dahlia 

 when quite young, and 

 rather amateurish, be- 

 cause then the Dahlia 

 was to me — as it is to millions of other amateurs 

 right now — the flower with which we can try 

 our skill to the exact same extent as the profes- 

 sional gardener does with the Chrysanthemum. 



And really, the two flowers have many char- 

 acteristics alike, only that one to be reared to 

 perfection must be raised in a hothouse, the other 

 all out of doors. 



I champion the Dahlia because I love it for 

 its easy (?) culture (easy, when you know how) 

 I love it because it knows no limit as to forms 

 and shapes. I love it, because it is so grateful 

 for the attention we give it. From August 

 until frost it makes our gardens glorious. 



I love it, for as a child in the garden, it is most 

 playful, you never know just what it will do for 

 you; and then it is such a perfect pal — it will 

 smile and play with you and give you hours and 

 horns of joy. 



The Dahlia offers more opportunities for the 

 amateur than any other flower I know of; he can 

 do more with it than the professional and invari- 

 ably he has the professional all beaten to a stand- 

 still; he can with ease breed and cross and produce 

 any quantity of new Dahlias all within the short 

 space of one year, and to my mind this is the cli- 

 max of joy in a garden. 



There is something about the Dahlia that is 

 irresistible. If you begin to grow one or a 

 dozen and grow them with an interest you will 

 become so attached to the Dahlia that you will 

 grow 50 the next year — a hundred the year after. 

 Dahlia growing takes hold of you with a grip. 



Joy and happiness from the garden depends on 

 the results of our garden due to our own efforts 

 and no one was ever more proud or happy than 

 I, when I could cut a big bunch of some of my 

 choicest Dahlias and bring them to the city to my 

 friends, for it made them all happier. And do 

 you know, the happy faces of my flowers, often 

 changed the atmosphere of an entire railroad car. 



