300 



The author's bean trial ground where the best of 

 good cultivation is given 



this season (sure crop during drouth). 

 Pods average 6 inches long, are flat but 

 fleshy and of excellent quality while young. 

 If allowed to get too old, they will show a 

 slight string and some fibre when being 

 prepared for the table. Remedy against 

 this: Pick them regularly and clean the 

 bushes of everything that's ready. Sure 

 Crop Stringless Wax will find its place. 



THE GARDEN MAGAZINE 



5. Burpee's New Kidney Wax is a flat 

 sort of many sterling characteristics. Those 

 who have stuck to old Wardwell's for 

 decades, should try a row of this bean 

 alongside. Thrifty, healthy plants, with 

 clusters of handsome pods, averageing 6| 

 to 7 inches in length. Flat but thick 

 through, tender and brittle at all stages of 

 development. Of best cooking quality 

 and one of the finest for making bean salad 

 on account of its great tenderness and 

 superb flavor. Bears freely and during a 

 long season, is remarkably free from blight 

 and rust. A trade winner on market and 

 a praise winner at the table. 



AS TO GROWING BEANS 



Here are the essential points in bean 

 culture; they are few and so easily grown 

 that there is no excuse for a failure: 



Always plant beans in rows, dropping the 

 seed about 5 inches apart in drills 3 inches 

 deep. Place rows 2| to 3 feet apart and 

 hill slightly. This will insure proper drain- 

 age and keep the beans off the ground. 

 Pick as soon as enough pods are 4 inches 

 long to make a meal. Continuous picking 

 insures prolonged bearing. Pick carefully 



June, 19 12 





Stringless Green Pod has been a reliable bean for 

 more than twenty years 



so as not to disturb young forming pods and 

 blossoms. Cut the stems of beans with 

 your finger nails, as jerking the plant is 

 apt to disturb important feeding roots. 

 Never pick when bushes are wet, as this 

 will cause blight and rust. For a suc- 

 cession of crops, for a family of 5, plant 

 30 feet of row every two weeks up to 

 August 1st. 



A Transplanted Summer Garden—By Alice siosson, 



THE PRACTICAL WAY OF COVERING UP BARE SPOTS IN THE FLOWER BORDER— 

 THE SUCCESSFUL MOVING OF PLANTS IN FULL FLOWER DURING THE SUMMER 



New 

 York 



THE time was June 20th. The place 

 was Northern Vermont, and the 

 dramatis personae myself and the "hired 

 man" (see New England vernacular), 

 whose chief recommendation was a readi- 

 ness to do at once whatever he was told 

 to do, and this without any counter-sug- 

 gestions of his own. I mention this last 

 for the appreciation of those, like myself, 

 who have striven with another kind of 

 gardening assistant. They will know the 

 real importance of this seemingly insigni- 

 ficant fact, without which the transplanted 

 garden would never have been. 



An eight weeks' illness had kept me 

 three hundred miles from my garden so 

 carefully planned the season before, and 

 this at the time most crucial in perennial 

 borders, namely, mid-April to mid- June. 

 A year previous in June, after prolonged 

 and feverish selection from many cata- 

 logues and authorities, no two of which 

 held the same opinion in the matter, the 

 seeds were sown- of such old-fashioned 

 perennial flowers as seemed best suited to 

 constitute a strictly up-to-date garden. 

 There were in all twenty-three varieties. 



All but three kinds came up freely, and 

 in early August were transplanted to cold- 

 frames where they could be properly pro- 

 tected until spring and a final transplanting 

 to the open borders. The severity of the 

 Vermont climate makes such protection 

 of seedling plants absolutely necessary 

 during their first winter. Afterward they 

 seldom winter-kill. This acclimatization 

 may be effected also by sowing the seed 



in November and allowing it to lie in a 

 covered coldframe all winter. If it does not 

 rot before spring, the resulting plants will 

 be as hardy as those which have come 

 through a winter in plant form. This 

 is worth noting and profiting by, unless 

 the seed is too choice to chance losing. 

 My coldframes are covered with old floor 

 matting, or else with building paper. 



The final resting place for those twenty- 

 three varieties was prepared late that fall, 

 as nearly in accordance with the rules of 

 the game as the weather and my purse 

 would permit. (The ground froze un- 

 seasonably early; I omit purse particulars.) 

 The result was a border bed about 70 

 feet long and bayed in curves, giving a 

 width of from four to ten feet. 



As I came up the driveway in the late 

 afternoon of that 20th day of June, a 

 year later, the first thing to be seen was 

 that bed, enclosing the west side of my 

 garden in all its pristine nakedness of 

 bare soil and muddy contour. Then, back 

 of the house, I came on my nursery beds 

 beyond the orchard. The coverings had 

 been taken off the frames in April, but no 

 attention had been given to the poor things 

 inside, and the unpremeditated result was 

 gorgeous. I think everything had lived. 

 A dense wilderness of buds and blossoms 

 rose out of the knee-deep grass surround- 

 ing it on all sides. Hollyhock spires 

 already showing color made the back- 

 ground for an army of foxgloves, some of 

 whose lower bells were almost out. The 

 Oriental poppies were past, but a few 



fingering blossoms glowed beyond the 

 long-spurred columbines. Packed like sar- 

 dines in their section of frame, the count- 

 less blossoms of these last hovered like a 

 swarm of many-hued butterflies above the 

 leaves. Many of the sweet Williams were 

 in bloom; more still green in bud. The 

 same with the larkspurs. Stokesia, Mich- 

 aelmas daisies, of course; gaillardias and 

 later sorts were not so far advanced, but 

 the clove pinks were at their best, and the 

 ever-blooming carnation top-heavy with 

 fat buds. It seemed hopeless. 



Everyone assured me that nothing could 

 be done "because even if the plants lived 

 through a transplanting now, all the buds 

 would blight." But with that awful 

 empty bed spurring me on, I transplanted 

 everything, except the columbines. They 

 were too wonderful to touch. And noth- 

 ing blighted. 



Someone has said that "Most of sterling 

 worth is what one's own experience 

 preaches." Nothing in gardening is more 

 true, and the preaching of my own suc- 

 cessful experiment is that you may trans- 

 plant what you will and when you will, 

 provided only that you do it in this way, 

 and not when the wind is blowing. 



Having first removed the nozzle, I 

 attached the hose to the garden stand- 

 pipe, turned the water on full, and let 

 it run for nearly twenty-four hours through 

 the whole section of plants to be trans- 

 planted, moving the open end now and 

 then so as to flood the entire place as 

 evenly as possible. At the end of that 



