292 



THE GARDEN MAGAZINE 



June, 1914 



laid low, was patiently extracted in sec- 

 tions. 



If this tree had been elsewhere, it would 

 have been spared by our woodman. I 

 like the oriental effect of its long pinnate 

 leaves, and though malodorous, when 

 planted near a house, it has the virtue of 

 keeping away flies. It branches high up so 

 that it does not darken the lower rooms to 

 anv great extent; and it is almost insect 

 proof. I wish it were not so prolific. Its 

 presence anywhere around means a numer- 

 ous progeny of young ailanthuses which are 

 extremely hard to pull up except in early 

 infancy. As if we hadn't enough trouble 

 with the trees in our own yard, there are a 

 number of the neighbors' that increased 

 our woes. 



Xext door, beyond our southern boun- 

 dary fence, stands a huge plane tree, a 

 slatternly creature that has the unpleasant 

 habit of shedding its skin like a snake now 

 and then, and dropping the peelings on us, 

 to say nothing of tossing over unnumbered 

 balls of seeds that generally fail to sprout, 

 thank goodness, in the shade on our ada- 

 mantine soil. This tree, moreover, during 

 summer and autumn shuts out a large 

 amount of sunshine. 



However, the plane is hardly worth 

 mentioning when compared with the mul- 

 berry in the yard on the other side. " Mine 

 Enemy." And always with capitals. That 

 is how I thought of it after even a season's 

 acquaintance. And I fear that if a chunk 

 of meat with a little something wrapped 

 up in it would have been effective, at times 

 I would have been terribly tempted to 

 throw it over the fence to that tree. It is 

 pleasing to the sight, like some other smiling 

 villains, beautiful not only in June when its 

 charms of form and symmetry are half 

 concealed by its leafy draperies of dark 

 green, but also equally lovely when its bare 

 black branches and delicate tracery of twig 

 and stem are silhouetted against the rosy 

 lavender of a sky that reflects the soft 

 fires of a November sunset. How in- 

 tensely I could admire it fifty feet farther 

 north! Close to our fence, and the one 

 having the southern exposure so necessary 

 for many of the flowers, woe 

 is me, its greedy roots come 

 into our yard and snatch the 

 food that belongs to my 

 plants. 



The boundary here is a high 

 board fence, weather beaten 

 and tottering to its fall. In 

 my ignorance, when I first 

 came, observing only the sun- 

 niness of the place, I thought 

 to hide its ugliness with climb- 

 ing nasturtiums. Sown there, 

 many failed to sprout; so I 

 sowed again, also with indif- 

 ferent success. But the seed- 

 lings that appeared, plain, 

 patient things as they are, 

 found the struggle too hard 

 though they made a gallant 

 fight. The end of the season Evcn an ugly 

 found them tall, gaunt crea- 



tures that seemed wasting away with 

 some lingering plant disease. 



Then we tried hollyhocks. They are 

 so stanch and sturdy, these big robust folks, 

 I reasoned, that they can hold their own 

 even against the mulberry tree. Sturdy 

 they were elsewhere in the yard, but here 

 their history was that of the nasturtiums. 

 Though I rushed reinforcements to them 

 in the shape of sheep fertilizer, most of 

 them came forth from the fray badly crip- 

 pled, like their predecessors, although one 

 plant at the end of the row, out of reach of 

 the robber roots, sent up stately spires 

 ten feet high. 



We seemed at our wits' end. A search 

 through gardening books disclosed such 

 advice as this: Line a trench on the side 

 next the trees with boards to a depth of 

 three or four feet. Or, dig a trench and 

 fill it with coal-ashes. 



These oracular utterances might have 

 proved valuable if given a trial, so far as 

 the exclusion of tree roots is concerned, 

 although lumber is now really too expensive 

 to bury in some one else's yard. But this 

 was only a part of our problem. We 

 wished at the same time to hide our ugly 

 fence. Unmixed coal ashes are not just 

 what I would choose for the foundation of 

 a flower border. 



In a bed along the fence that bounds our 

 premises on the east, I had planted hardy 

 sunflowers as a background for the lower 

 growing perennials in front. The former 

 were of the sort that has running root- 

 stocks, stealthily creeping out and throwing 

 up shoots here and there among their super- 

 iors. At the end of a season, I found my 

 columbines and sweet Williams dying, and 

 investigation revealed the fact that they 

 had been completely undermined by the 

 encroachments of the sunflower plants. 



Here I will pause with the advice: Un- 

 less you want to give your days and nights 

 to hardy sunflowers (instead of to the 

 study of Addison), don't plant this kind in a 

 mixed border. Use the varieties having a 

 fibrous root, such as meteor, multiflorus 

 maximus, orgyalis, and maximiliana. 



All the plants in this bed had to be 



board fence can be redeemed by planting petunias and other hardy flowers 

 along the base 



removed so that I could extract the roots of 

 the sunflowers, and as these are extremely 

 brittle and as each piece broken off, though 

 only an inch long, means a new plant, the 

 task was one to test the patience of a saint. 

 Each extraction means a long, gentle pull 

 of exactly the right degree if a fracture is to 

 be avoided. 



When the deed was done, I felt as if I 

 had scotched a snake. Yet the blossoms 

 of the variety we had used are attractive. 

 It seemed wrong to destroy the plants. 



I had a bright idea. Why not let them 

 fight it out with the mulberry tree? They 

 richly deserved a Nemesis. Nevertheless, 

 let them survive if they proved their fit- 

 ness. They were forthwith set out along 

 the fence, and for the first time since its 

 erection that eyesore was to some degree 

 hidden. 



But lest we should be in the plight of our 

 British forefathers when they invoked the 

 aid of the truculent Hengist to dispel the 

 Scots and the Picts, we took the precau- 

 tion to leave a path as a barrier between the 

 sunflowers and the border in front of them. 

 Personally I would prefer a trench filled 

 with concrete. 



Tulips and daffodils for spring blooming, 

 with German irises in clumps, and groups of 

 Nicotiana alata and zinnias, or of marigolds 

 and ageratum, and an edging of California 

 poppies, for later blossoms, proved more 

 successful here than any other plants unless 

 the soil was continually enriched. That 

 is one count against the mulberry tree. 



Here is the second: Its branches extend 

 over the fence, and for at least six weeks we 

 are pelted with its insipid purple fruit 

 which ripens in relays. The berries drop 

 on our porch and on our stone walk, every- 

 where leaving a stain. They fall on the 

 grass and on the ground among the flowers, 

 sour and mold, giving forth an odor that 

 rivals the cellar-like smell which we van- 

 quished. They call swarms of flies, not only 

 of the sort we are urged to swat, but a variety 

 peculiar to gardens — giddy creatures, tricked 

 out in finery of bronze and brass and me- 

 tallic green, that proceed to do things to 

 the leaves of our perennials and annuals. 

 A little later, something like 

 a million of little green plants 

 spring up in this part of the 

 yard. A million, did I say? I 

 will try to be conservative. 

 Perhaps it is only a hundred 

 thousand small mulberry trees 

 that we pull up like so many 

 weeds. 



We begin to hope that our 

 troubles are at an end when 

 we observe a tent-like struc- 

 ture in the branches above and 

 bsfore long a shower of cater- 

 pillars is thrown upon us as 

 from a catapult. 



This is the final shot, I am 

 glad to say, and the mulberry 

 tree now having done its worst, 

 subsides into a state of innocu- 

 ous desuetude till next year. 

 {Part II. in the July number) 



