October, 1910 



THE GARDEN MAGAZINE 



125 



(Editor's Note. — We want to know how suc- 

 cessful workers do things — in order to put actual 

 experiences before our thousands of readers in all 

 parts of the country. Every reader is invited to con- 

 tribute a short note on some interesting experience. 

 Just state the facts about some ingenious idea that you 

 have actually worked out yourself or have seen.) 



When traveling, in this country or abroad, 

 one often refrains from picking up seeds, 

 bulbs, and plants because "there isn't room 

 for them." .It is well to remember that they 

 can always be sent by mail or express, ad- 

 dressed to one's self, and that, if sent from 

 abroad, they now come in duty free. Letter 

 instruction as to the temporary care of 

 plants should, it follows, be sent to some 

 member of the family at the same time. — 

 H. S. A. 



I have been trying for more than a year 

 to find out how to apply wood ashes as a fer- 

 tilizer, and how long it takes for fresh manure 

 to become the "well-rotted manure" that 

 one is told, a thousand times a year, to use. 

 I have written to nurserymen, but to no 

 avail. They tell me how they turn the 

 manure over and turn the hose on it, but as 

 I have no water and no hose for this purpose 

 it does me no good. .\nd anyway, I would 

 not know just when the manure arrived at 

 a condition which would permit it to be 

 thrown around young trees and bushes and 

 flowers. What I want to know is how long 

 must fresh manure remain in a heap in the 

 barn-yard, exposed to a rain about once a 

 week, before it becomes well rotted enough to 

 put around plants. And it is the same way 

 with ashes. How much fresh oak-wood 

 ashes can be put on the ground around a 

 bush, and how close to the stem, without 

 hurting it? One old lady of my acquaint- 

 ance says that one can put a couple of gallons 

 around, about a foot from the stem, and hoe 

 it in and it will be safe. I think I shall try 

 this, as I have a henhouse full of ashes to 

 experiment with, and over a thousand young 

 trees and shrubs to be risked. — J. T. B. 



One thing that Northern people espe- 

 cially should learn when they come to the 

 latitude of Oklahoma is that it is a waste of 

 time to attempt to grow blue grass, white 

 clover, etc. Bermuda grass in this latitude 

 is the only thing possible, and it is so satis- 

 factory that it ought to have the preference 

 anyway. It makes a beautiful soft sod, 

 stands the hottest, driest weather, and keeps 

 its color. People told me it would kill all 

 my shrubs, roses, young plants, etc., but I 



think this is the veriest nonsense, for it does 

 not endure shade and is easily kept in sub- 

 jection by cultivation. I am disgusted 

 when I think that I allowed myself to be 

 scared out of planting Bermuda grass for 

 three years after I came to this locality. 

 Ibota privet and Bermuda grass would do 

 much to beautify this section of the United 

 States, and require almost no care. I con- 

 sider the Ibota much superior to the CaH- 

 fornia in beauty and grace of growth, as well 

 as in hardiness against heat and cold. — B. 



Admirers of dainty, airy, light bouquets 

 to grace the dining-table should make a note 

 in their garden book to obtain seed next year 

 of the annual Gypsophila elegans, var. grandi- 

 ^ora, and Saponaria Vaccaria, and sow them 

 outdoors in separate rows in the spring, 

 making separate sowings, say ten days apart. 

 If sown at the same time, they bloom together 

 and the combination is charming — a pure 

 white and a satiny pink. The gypsophila 

 is also splendid to lighten up a bouquet 

 of sweet peas, and being a pure white, may 

 be used with any color. — W. C. E. 



Last fall I had ripe tomatoes and lettuce 

 until after Thanksgiving, though frost came 

 early in October. I then picked off all the 

 largest tomatoes, whether they showed signs 

 of ripening or not, those which were about 

 turning being spread on a table in a cool 

 room. The green ones I picked with as 

 much stem as possible, and wrapped each 

 one in heavy brown paper, packed them in 

 boxes and stored them in a cool, dark cellar. 

 I looked them over once a week, and took out 

 any which showed color. The vines still 

 held dozens of green tomatoes, so we pulled 

 them up by the roots, and buried them, vines 

 and all, in a pile of dry grass clippings. 

 They ripened even more slowly and naturally 

 than those stored in the cellar. I aired 

 them several times upon clear, dry days to 

 prevent mildew or rot. The lettuce I trans- 

 planted in October from my garden to last 

 spring's hotbed. It was in a sunny, shel- 

 tered spot; the soil, of course, was rich, and 

 the only care I gave was to water occasion- 

 ally and put on the hotbed sash as the 

 weather grew cold. Had I protected it with 

 mats I would have had fine lettuce all 

 winter.— R. G. P. 



It requires twelve forkfuls of well-rotted 

 manure to fill a garden wheelbarrow of large 

 size, although, of course, this varies according 

 to the condition of the manure. The weight 

 varies even more than the bulk. When 

 manure is soaking out (as it usually is when 

 sold by weight), a wheelbarrow load would 

 weigh from sixty to seventy pounds, but if 

 the manure is very dry it would probably 

 not be heavier than thirty-five pounds. A 

 good average figure to go by is fifty pounds 

 for a wheelbarrow full of manure. — W. M. C. 



Some years ago I got from a country gar- 

 den a tuber of an old cactus dahlia. Two 

 years ago it was planted close to a cellar 

 wall and was forgotten at digging time. 

 The next spring it came up. Last year I left 



it in the ground intentionally; it was in blos- 

 som this year, June 20th. Next spring I 

 shall transplant it away from the house, and 

 cover with leaves. It would be interesting if 

 we could, by selection of the sturdiest, pro- 

 duce a race of hardy dahlias. One would 

 lose the increase of tubers if they were left in 

 the ground, but save the bother of digging, 

 storing, and planting again. — W. F. H. 



The murdering of plant names is really one 

 of the pleasures of gardening. Catalogues 

 which contain foreign or classical words are 

 triumphs of the art of how not to do it. 

 But the pronunciation of some of the growers 

 is a still greater triumph. One prominent 

 raiser of dahlias is proud of a variety which 

 he spells properly "Himmlische," but pro- 

 nounces "Himmelisky." — H. 



Where there is much smoking of cigars in a 

 country place, it is a good plan to empty the 

 ash-receivers regularly into a tin pail kept 

 in some out-of-the-way place. The butts 

 can be soaked to make "tobacco water," 

 or thrown in with coarse fertilizers, and the 

 ashes can be mixed with garden or potted 

 soil. Or the butts, ashes, and burnt matches 

 can be contributed to the compost heap. 

 All tobacco refuse is worth going "back to 

 the soil."— B. G. 



I have gathered a collection of perennial 

 larkspurs from all quarters and found 

 them all subject to the spot. Burbank's 

 early hybrids are surely the most free from 

 it, as they are the sturdiest. In my garden 

 the spot does not seem to spread from one 

 plant to another, as an absolutely healthy 

 one will grow next to one badly infected. 

 I have found no spray effective, and have 

 found no gardener who has. But if one 

 keeps constant watch, he can keep the 

 pest easily within bounds, by pinching 

 off leaves and buds that show signs of 

 disease. One should not wait for the 

 black marks, but should note the earliest 

 wrinkling. It is not so heroic as it 

 sounds to take out buds, for the plant 

 will send out side shoots below, and an 

 infected bud never gives a decent bloom. 

 Small plants should be ruthlessly pulled 

 up and burned. — W. F. H. 



I have noticed in several agricultural 

 papers pictures of men cutting asparagus. 

 In each one of these pictures the men are 

 standing alongside of the row with both feet 

 in one of the trenches, and the basket lies 

 on top of the row. The proper way to cut 

 asparagus is to cut two rows at a time, hold 

 as much as you can in the left hand, then 

 lay the handful down on top of the row with 

 the butts toward the next row to be cut. 

 Then when the next two rows are cut, the 

 handfuls should be laid down so that the 

 butts come opposite those which were placed 

 on the row first cut. In that way, when the 

 man picks up the "grass," he can walk 

 between the two rows and pick up two hand- 

 fuls at a time. This saves jumping from row 

 to row when picking up, and prevents spears 

 from being trodden upon. — W. J. Y. 



