164 



THE GARDEN MAGAZINE 



April, 1912 



E. amethystinum, with globe thistles and 

 gypsophila, because I saw pictures of them 

 in "Colour in the Flower Garden." It 

 makes a most attractive group, but my 

 eryngiums never grew amethystine enough 

 to justify their name, so I added to the 

 group in an experimental way until now 

 I have a planting of which I am very 

 proud and which is to be reproduced bodily 

 by Friend Neighbor as the ne plus ultra 

 of "fuzzy restfulness. " 



The single Gypsophila paniculata had such 

 a short season of bloom that the effective- 

 ness of the group was spoiled before it got 

 fairly going, so I substituted the double 

 variety when it was first offered for sale. 

 Although, as a rule, I like a single better 

 than a double flower, this is one case 

 where I think the doubling is a decided 

 improvement, as the flowering period of 

 the double gyp is almost double that of the 

 single. 



But while all the praise is being lavished 

 by horticultural authorities upon the gyp- 

 sophila, I see no mention of another beau- 

 tiful cloudy effect that can be so easily pro- 

 duced by planting a sea lavender, Statice 

 latifolia. I have grouped the statice with 

 the gypsophila and the mingling of the mul- 

 titudes of fine flowers is exquisite. The 

 pale lavender of the statice harmonizes 

 nicely with the eryngiums and globe 

 thistles and gives a note of pale coloring 

 that was lacking. Statice latifolia seems 

 to have aU the good qualities of the gyp- 

 sophila in its multitude of dainty bloom 

 with the one drawback of coarse foliage, 

 but as the leaves he flat upon the ground 

 during the flowering season this objection 

 is overcome. 



My advice to planters of perennials is 

 this — whenever any' one says plant "gyp- 

 sophila," add "andstatice with it." 



Tufted pansies are to occupy a prom- 

 inent position in the new border. I have 

 had them for two years and can grow 

 them readily where the ordinary pansy 

 refuses to take up its abode. I like the 

 small-flowered ones with "sassy" faces, 



Though massive in effect, the sneezeweed (Helen- 

 ium autumnale) seems indispensable to the border 

 in fall 



which an English friend insists are violas. 

 They look like the old-fashioned Johnny- 

 jump-ups and bloom continually. It seems 

 a much sturdier plant than the pansy, 

 and it is easy to grow as many plants as are 

 wished by taking cuttings from the scores 

 of shoots which spring from the roots. 

 Taken all in all, the tufted pansies were one 

 of the most satisfactory perennials I had. 

 They started blooming in early spring and 

 kept at it until I cut them down in mid- 

 summer and as soon as they had sent up 

 a fresh growth, furnished a sheet of bloom 

 until freezing weather. 



It may seem strange to include Eupa- 

 torium ageratoides — I don't know any 

 good common name, and refuse to call so 

 pretty a flower by the misnomer of "but- 

 ton snakeroot" — in a collection of fifteen 

 especially desirable perennials, but I am 

 convinced that this humble native be- 

 longs there. Give it a chance in any 

 shady corner and plant a few groups of 

 Actaza Japonica for variety and watch 

 the results. You will find a snowy sheet 

 of feathery heads with an occasional plume 

 of actaea carrying the fluffy whiteness up 

 to heights of three and four feet. I saw 

 several paths through the woods last 

 summer fined as evenly with solid masses 

 of eupatorium as though it had been 

 planted by a gardener. It is much more 

 delicate than its over-used namesake the 

 Mexican ageratum. This is the "white 

 fuzz" that Friend Neighbor regards as 

 one of the salient features of his prospective 

 border. 



As it is a woodland plant and used to 

 clambering up through various obstacles 

 until it reaches the free air, the eupatorium 

 has proved particularly useful in solving 

 a bulb problem. It occupies ground jointly 

 with a thick planting of Emperor daffodils. 

 After they die away, up comes the eupa- 

 torium which has been struggling to get 

 by for several weeks, and there is another 

 crop of bloom without the trouble of 

 touching the ground. 



September is the month of purple and 

 gold composites. Unfortunately, a large 

 number of them are coarse and weedy until 

 they conceal their foliage with a mass of 

 bloom, but against the heleniums no such 

 complaint can be lodged. Of all the golden 

 composites, the giant sneezeweeds (Helen- 

 him autumnale, var. superbum) is quite the 

 most golden. Waving great heads of pure 

 yellow buttons surrounded with slightly 

 toothed ray flowers, it is one of the hand- 

 somest of the early fall flowers. Riverton 

 Beauty and Riverton Gem make a mag- 

 nificent trio of refined and highly colored 

 bloom. These are the only perennials, clas- 

 sified as "blatant" that Friend Neighbor 

 will countenance, but he says they have 

 "some class." They require no particular 

 attention and are sure to respond with a 

 great display when their season arrives. 

 The dull red of Riverton Beauty and the 

 pale yellow and dark cone of Riverton Gem 

 afford a fine dash of color in the border. 

 These, with the Miss Mellish sunflower, are 

 the only yellows allowed at this stage. 



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Grow pansies. by all means. The "tufted" type 

 blooms longer than the bedding kinds 



Sunflowers are a genuine nuisance; but 

 Miss Mellish has such refined bloom (for 

 a sunflower), with gracefully twisted petals, 

 that I really can't get along without her. 

 She will endeavor to occupy the entire 

 border and has to be dissuaded by force, 

 but a few of these stately plants, given 

 three feet of room in which to develop, 

 are well worth the trouble. 



The two hardy salvias (S. farinacea and 

 azurea var. grandiflora), are rarely seen in 

 these parts but they are exceptionally fine 

 plants and have proved very satisfactory 

 for the purpose of furnishing a display 

 when there was nothing else. 



Salvia azurea var. grandiflora is much the 

 showier of the two and in late August 

 and early September, when there is a 

 general lull before the riot of composites, 

 produces branching spikes covered with 

 azure blue flowers and forms a solid sheet 

 of color. It is absolutely hardy and blooms 

 the first year from seed. The foliage is 

 rather insignificant, but it is a sure in- 

 vestment for its particular time of year 

 and redeems a seedy looking border. 



The silver sage (Salvia farinacea), 

 wouldn't elicit a second glance from any- 

 body until October. Then it is in its 

 glory and will battle for existence even 

 with killing frosts. It has clean, bright 

 foliage and makes a fine bushy plant from 

 three to four feet tall. I surround my 

 eryngium-gypsophila planting with these 

 salvias and when the former are cut down 

 the silver sage reaches over and covers 

 the vacancy. 



This salvia earns its name of silver sage 

 because the entire flower spike is covered 

 with a silvery powder. There is con- 

 siderable variation in different plants; 

 in some the entire spike is blue, while in 

 others the spike is blue and the calyces 

 white. There are occasional forms in 

 which both the spike and the flower 

 are pure white. It sends up a terminal 

 spike at first which will be disappointing. 

 Then it branches from every joint and by 

 October the entire plant is covered with 

 blue. It is hardy in dry situations, but 

 will not survive on level ground w-here 

 water is likely to stand. It reaches its 

 full development the first year from seed 

 and self-sows so freely that it may be 

 regarded as perennial once it is established. 



