344 



THE GARDEN MAGAZINE 



July, 1 9 i> 



blue flowers, especially scillas, glory of the 

 snow, and the dainty little grape hyacinths. 



The first flowers of good size and many 

 colors are crocuses, which are said to look 

 thoroughly wild in some places. I can 

 well believe it, for crocuses seed freely here, 

 though most people do not know it, because 

 the seed pods are formed near the ground. 

 In the lawn crocuses cannot sow their own 

 seed, but in the woods they have a chance 

 to multiply in this way, as well as by the 

 corm. If I am not mistaken crocuses are 

 running wild at Professor Sargent's home 

 in Brookline, Mass. 



The grand effects in English woods 

 come in April with the daffodils, ending 

 with the poet's narcissus in May. The 

 most artistic result is secured, not by merely 

 scattering the bulbs as we commonly do, 

 but by arranging a dense mass, with small 

 outlying colonies in the direction of the 

 prevailing wind, so that the latter seem 

 to owe their origin to seeds borne on the 

 breeze from the large group. (See picture 

 on page 345.) We often make the mistake 

 of planting bulbs in solid blocks, like a 

 nursery, or in immense areas of equal 

 density. Also, and it pains me to write 

 these words, we often set them out in straight 

 lines or patterns. 



Another reason why English woodlands 

 are so exquisite in daffodil time is that 

 owners are content with the cheapest 

 varieties. Our rich men are often carried 

 away by their enthusiasm and plant costly 

 varieties simply because they can afford 

 them. Also, they have a way of dumping 

 into woods large flowered varieties after 

 forcing. But no one can make daffodils 

 with red cups or five-inch flowers look 

 wild in the woods, or big florists' varieties 

 with very broad petals and perfectly fluted 

 trumpets. These spectacular flowers show 

 the handiwork of man and therefore belong 

 in the garden, not the woods. There are 

 twenty-six varieties costing one and two 

 cents a bulb that are more appropriate 

 than those costing four or five. 



The next great flower show in English 

 woods is that of bluebells in May. I saw 

 acres of bluebells carpeting the ground so 

 thickly that it was impossible to avoid 

 stepping on them. When we Americans 

 speak of "bluebells" we mean the harebell 

 {Campanula rotundifolia) , a fibrous-rooted 

 plant that blooms more or less all summer. 

 That is the bluebell of Scotland, but the 

 bluebell of England is Scilla festalis, and 

 known to bulb dealers as Scilla nutans. It 

 ought to be called "wood hyacinth," for 

 that exactly expresses its appearance. It 

 has none of the gross stiffness of the 

 Dutch hyacinth. This charming flower 

 stands about two feet high in deep shade 

 and bears about ten flowers on a stem. 

 There are pink and white varieties which 

 are as tender and pure as the most 

 refined Roman hyacinths. I have seen 

 all three of them naturalized with ex- 

 quisite effect in Massachusetts along a 

 woodland walk. The bulbs cost about $15 

 a thousand. 



But we must not merely copy English 



effects, and our best way of developing an 

 American style of woodland gardening is to 

 concentrate on bloodroot, fawn lily (or 

 adder's tongue) and Trillium grandiflorum, 

 which ought to be planted by the thousand 

 on every country estate where these precious 

 flowers do not already carpet the forest 

 floor in great and glorious masses. 



MEADOW EFFECTS WITH BULBS 



English meadows in May are as thickly 

 sown with stars as the heavens at night, 

 for every country gentleman plants many 

 thousand bulbs of the poet's narcissus, 

 a fragrant, six-pointed flower which the 

 English call "pheasant's eye," from the 

 red-rimmed saucer in the centre of the 

 flower. This is the cheapest of all bulbs 

 for naturalizing, costing only $5 a thousand, 

 or half a cent a bulb. 



In a meadow we find very different 

 conditions from the shade and loose under- 

 growth of woods. Here we have full 

 sunshine and a turf that is generally too 

 deep and close for crocuses and other 

 small bulbs. Therefore, with the excep- 

 tion of narcissi, we find a different set of 

 bulbs from those that thrive in woods. 



A quaint and charming meadow flower 

 is the snake's head or guinea hen flower, 

 a pendant white lily bell, marvelously 

 tessellated with purple. In old-fashioned 

 gardens you may sometimes see the guinea 

 hen flowers idly swinging their bells, but 

 it is a sensation of a lifetime to watch 

 thousands of them responding to a gentle 

 breeze that ruffles the lush meadow grass 

 in May. The bulbs cost only a cent and 

 a half each by the thousand. This flower 

 is known to bulb merchants as Fritillaria 

 Meleagris. The popular names are ob- 

 jectionable. Checkered lily is distinctive 

 and descriptive. 



In June the lemon lily is very lovely in 

 English meadows, its narrow leaves blend- 

 ing perfectly with the tall grass. Heme- 

 rocallis flava is much more refined than 

 H. fulva, the orange day lily. It is best to 

 confine them" to areas that can be easily 

 protected from the mower. 



The grandest American lily that grows 

 naturally in meadows is the American 

 Turk's cap {Lilium superbum), a nodding 

 orange flower, thickly spotted, and with 

 petals rolled far back. It reaches its 

 grandest proportions — eight feet high and 

 forty-five flowers on a stem — only in moist, 

 peaty soil and partial shade. However, 

 if it does even a third as well in meadows 

 it is a glorious sight. It blooms in August. 

 The English cannot grow this species as 

 well as its Pacific coast equivalent — the 

 leopard lily (L. pardalinum). 



Another American bulb that grows naf- 

 urally in meadows is the purple camass or 

 quamash (Camassia esadenta), which grows 

 about two feet high and bears in July ten 

 to forty starry flowers of dark blue or purple. 

 The English sometimes grow the camass, 

 and it costs them only a cent a bulb by the 

 thousand. 



But the most important meadow flowers 

 of England are the narcissi. I judge 



that the English are generally careful to 

 choose the sun-loving varieties for this 

 purpose as they do the shade-lovers for the 

 woods. It is true that the richest colors 

 are preserved only in the shade of deciduous 

 trees, and in selecting varieties for the 

 meadow we must be careful to find out 

 which ones will not bleach in the sun. 

 There is an English catalogue that lists all 

 the varieties which are strong enough to 

 battle with grass and tells which of them 

 will stand the sun and which must have 

 partial shade. There is no longer any 

 excuse for us to plead ignorance because 

 Kirby's book on daffodils tells the limita- 

 tions of the varieties in America so far as 

 they are known. 



Hundreds of Americans bought last year 

 a mixture of narcissi for the wild garden 

 which was said to contain four varieties 

 that would extend the period of bloom to 

 six weeks. The varieties were guaranteed 

 not to overlap seriously. This is a great 

 improvement over indiscriminate mixtures, 

 as the poetic quality vanishes when more 

 than one variety is in bloom at once. But 

 there is an even more artistic idea. Buy 

 the same four varieties separately and plant 

 them separately in the same field, leaving 

 an irregular strip of grass of considerable 

 size between any two colonies. Then there 

 is no bewildering scatterment, but a series of 

 bold irregular colonies. Trumpets and starry 

 narcissi will not harmonize in the same 

 group, and when several kinds bloom at once, 

 some will look "washed out" by contrast. 



I am well aware that double daffodils 

 are naturalized by the acre in England, 

 but the most refined taste objects to double 

 flowers of any kind in wild gardening. 

 With that exception Americans should tie 

 to Mr. Kirby's list on page 88 of his book, 

 favoring the cheapest varieties in every case. 



WATERSIDE EFFECTS WITH BULBS 



The most enchanting of all floral pictures 

 are those which are mirrored in the water. 

 The English understand well the value of 

 narcissi on the banks and the necessity of 

 planting the margins everywhere except as 

 clearings are needed for boat landings, 

 bridges, and other practical needs. 



The finest bulbs for waterside planting 

 are the irises. Strictly speaking, the only 

 bulbous irises are the English and Spanish, 

 which are too gardenesque for naturalizing, 

 as also are the German. But the rhizo- 

 matous irises are regularly sold in the fall 

 by bulb dealers, and culturally the dis- 

 tinction is of small importance. Dwarf 

 irises are likely to be overrun at the water- 

 side, but tall ones are very lovely there. 



Fortunately, the tall yellow flag that 

 grows well in Europe does very well with 

 us and so do Japanese irises which have 

 the largest flowers of all, often eight inches 

 across and sometimes ten or twelve. I 

 wish someone who owns half a mile of 

 brook would show us thousands of Japan 

 iris in bloom as I saw them at the gardens 

 of the Royal Horticultural Society. A 

 faint idea of this glory is given by the picture 

 on page 346. But I would counsel him to 



