Originality in Gardens— By u h. Bailey 



Director of the College of 

 Agriculture, Cornell University 



WHY SO MANY AMERICAN GARDENS ARE COMMONPLACE OR UNIMAGINATIVE— SUGGESTIONS FOR MAKING THEM 

 DISTINCTIVE- FIVE GARDENS THAT EXHIBIT CREATIVE GENIUS AND SHOW THE POSSIBILITIES OF ADAPTATION 



ORIGINALITY in gardens : as in every- 

 thing else, may be good or bad One 

 of the most "original" gardens I ever saw 

 "was in a little town in southern Michigan 

 It was a mere front yard, I suppose not more 

 than fifty feet square. It was an intricate 

 geometrical pattern, as clever as the design 

 of a carpet, with diminutive splashes of 

 gravel, knots of box, and shear-made treelets. 

 It was entertainingly interesting and in- 

 describably ugly. 



The genius of true originality is as rare as 

 common sense. To be original and not to 

 be self-advertising may be called the rarest 

 of attainments. In our efforts to be unlike 

 others we become actors; and the pity of it 

 is that everybody knows that we are acting. 

 The true originality is not conscious of itself. 

 Perhaps my reader will be able to make some 

 application of these handsome sentences: if 

 so, he is to be congratulated. I meant only 

 to say that the best originality in gardens 

 consists merely in working out to perfection 

 some idea that will exactly adapt the place 

 to its conditions and surroundings. 



The best window-garden I ever saw was 

 made by a woman who probably knew less 

 than a dozen kinds of plants. The place was 

 a three-window bay, of which the center win- 

 dow was left bare of plants. The two side 

 windows were staged with well-grown gera- 

 niums, oxalis, othonna, farfugium and two 

 or three other very common things, and 

 festooned with German ivy. The poorest 

 window-garden I ever saw was my own, 

 with plants that every one knew were bought 

 of the florist. 



The above example gives the key. to good 

 original, gardens — the garden must be one's 

 own in the sense that one makes it or directs 

 it so that it shall express the very spirit of the 

 place and of the owner. 



Last summer I drove through a beautiful 

 well-wooded road in southeastern England. 

 At one place the rear of a house stood close 

 against the highway, presenting no unusual 

 point of interest to the passer-by. I drove 

 in at the gate, and behold! a garden such as 

 poets dream of! And in truth it is a poet's 

 garden. An open space of velvet lawn, 

 sides piled high with lusty growth of tree and 

 shrub and herbaceous plants, in the distance 

 wide sweep of farm lands, at its back the fine 

 old English residence set with pleasant vines 

 — this was the picture. I thought I had 

 never seen so choice a bit, and yet there was 

 nothing over-wrought or high-strung in it. 

 I saw many beautiful plants, but the effect 

 of the whole was supreme. It was as 

 truly a picture as if the image of it had 

 been put on canvas. If the reader has 

 read "In Veronica's Garden" or "The 

 Garden I Love," he will know what garden 

 I mean. 



This garden illustrates a fundamental dif- 

 ference, I think, between the English and 



the American garden. The Englishman's 

 garden is well-nigh as essential as his house. 

 It is like an extra room to the residence. It 

 is for the family rather than for the public. 

 It therefore works itself into the developing 

 consciousness of children, and garden-iove 

 becomes as much a part of the person as 

 books and furniture and music do. With 

 them, the love of the soil is bred in the bone. 

 Englishmen of all classes love farming and 

 gardening. In this respect our conglomerate 

 people are centuries behind the English. 

 The American garden is likely to be all in the 

 front yard. It is usually of the look-at-me 

 kind. It is made for the public to see. This 

 may contribute to public spirit and civic 

 betterment, but it loses in originality and 

 vitality. 



One of the most original gardens I know is 

 that of Mrs. Annie L. Jack, in the Province of 

 Quebec. Mrs. Jack is herself a practical 

 garden-lover — this is essential to any origi- 

 nality in any garden. Her original materials 

 were crude and austere — a severe climate, 

 an open piece of land far in the country. It 

 is a farm-wife's garden. Against the low 

 stone house she laid out an acre in parallelo- 

 gram, with the long way extending from the 

 residence. The ground slopes slightly from 

 the center to the sides. Trees for shelter 

 were planted to the windward. On the 

 opposite side were planted such hardy fruits 

 as would thrive in the climate. Between 

 these for many years vegetables were grown, 

 being gradually forced into the freer inward 

 borders as the trees and grape-vines devel- 

 oped. The center of the place was made 

 a grass space, bold and generous in allow- 

 ance. The borders are used mostly for 

 flowers, with a liberal admixture of interesting 

 shrubs. It will be seen that the general 

 outline of the garden was rigidly determined ; 

 but there has been enough elasticity of de- 

 tails to allow of new planting schemes every 

 year. From first to last it has been an experi- 

 mental garden. The novelties here find place 

 until they prove or disprove themselves, but 

 there is always such a preponderance of staple 

 things that the garden as a whole is never 

 disappointing. In the secluded and sheltered 

 nooks plants far out of their range may be 

 grown. I saw a thriving small tree of Mag- 

 nolia stellata. The reader will note that this 

 is not a fruit-garden, or a vegetable-garden, 

 or a flower-garden. It is merely a garden, 

 in which all the aesthetic and practical de- 

 sires may be satisfied. This garden has 

 been profitable. Fruits and vegetables have 

 been sold. The children worked in it and 

 have learned to love it. One of the boys 

 had a "garden " of his own when three years 

 old. I was greatly impressed with the influ- 

 ence that this garden has had on the atti- 

 tude and ideals of the family. If I am not 

 mistaken, it has had an intellectual influence 

 like a school and a spiritual influence like a 

 17 



church. Perhaps my reader has read home- 

 like pieces of prose and verse that have come 

 from this garden. 



In the western part of San Francisco is a 

 garden as unique as Mrs. Jack's, but in every 

 way a contrast to it. It is a garden that 

 appeals to you because of its interesting 

 plants, and not as an organism. Mr. Abra- 

 ham is a passionate lover of anything that 

 has roots and leaves. He will cherish any 

 sprig from any part of the world, and, what 

 is more, he will make it grow if there is a 

 germ of life left in it. He will put this plant 

 wherever there is an unoccupied inch of 

 ground — alongside a walk, in a corner by a 

 crooked little greenhouse, in a pot in some 

 out-of-the-way place, or in a row in the 

 middle of the lot. Everything is full of 

 plants — roses, palms, fuchsias, cacti, and a 

 thousand things all growing in cheerful 

 abandon. The very lack of arrangement is 

 its charm. If it were "laid out" it would be 

 as uninteresting as an antiquarian shop with 

 mahogany counters and plate-glass windows. 

 The place is the man. I would not change 

 an item of it. 



I like best those amateur gardens that 

 seem to be a real part of the home. I have 

 another such in mind; it is in central New 

 York. It is a two-acre space, practically 

 square. It lies a short distance back of the 

 residence, and is bounded on the house side 

 by a high-sheared evergreen hedge. \\ hen 

 you visit this family you may sit in the draw- 

 ing-room or you may walk straight through 

 the house and through a gateway in the hedge 

 and into the garden. There you find your- 

 self in a little world of your own — the hedge 

 in front and double rows of wind-break hem- 

 locks and pines on the far boundaries. The 

 walk leads straight on through well-clipped 

 sodland and between entertaining rows of 

 all manner of pleasant herbs, old and new. 

 You may digress to a seat or two under trees, 

 or keep straight on to a stone seat against 

 a short hedge at the very end of the walk. 

 At this seat, or at the front entrance to the 

 garden, you may take side-paths to the pine- 

 belt, and there walk in a noble avenue made 

 by the duplicate lines of trees. As ycu turn 

 the farthermost corner in this avenue you 

 come on the vegetable garden, itself occupy- 

 ing one of the quarters of this charming 

 place. You will find no elaborate display, 

 no greenhouse, no corps of gardeners. It 

 is only a quiet garden-space set off from 

 a country of farm land and attached to a 

 refined home. 



Pope long ago wrote that the gardener 

 should "consult the genius of the place in 

 all." This is what makes the garden original 

 and worth the while, because the "genius 

 of the place" is different in every garden, 

 and the expressing of it with plant materials 

 portrays the capability and personality of 

 the gardener. 



