THROUGH THE 



Spring the young morn, and Summer the strong noon 

 Have dreamed and died for Autumn's sake. 



Richard LeGallienne. 



Planting To Save 

 Labor in Upkeep 



(HE problem of getting things 

 done is at present such a press- 



Ping one that any device that 

 reduces the things that must be 

 done is surely to be welcomed. The care of grass eats up 

 more labor than almost anything about the place, but by fol- 

 lowing the example of a wise gardener, the owner of a lovely 

 garden in Westchester County, N. Y., a good deal of it may 

 be eliminated and a new beauty added to the spring as well. 

 The approach of bulb planting time recalls the very effective 

 manner in which the care of grass was eliminated from all 

 places where it was difficult to keep it in order. On all rough 

 banks, along out-of-the-way paths, in shaded places where 

 grass grows in an unkempt manner, she has planted the little 

 blue-flowered Periwinkle, and beneath its reaching branches, 

 masses of all sorts of bulbs. The dark, shining foliage and 

 soft-toned round flowers make the best possible setting for 

 the gay spring blossoms. First countless Snowdrops burst , 

 through, with a sprinkling of blue and white Scillas; then 

 patches of Crocuses in many colors followed by bands of 

 swaying Daffodils and lastly by Tulips, their bright colors 

 brought to harmony by the spreads of blue Periwinkle be- 

 tween. When the last bulb has gone its way the little Peri- 

 winkle flows softly over all, maintaining seemly order through- 

 out the year and requiring no attention. 



GARDEN GATE 



Csdutfjor o/ r "MyS'arcferfanc{ "6o£wmJfy ■ garden" 



Lilies during the early part of July and the bulbs may then be 

 dug up and transplanted to the garden. At present they 

 may be bought from the nurserymen. Lilies with both stem 

 and basal roots, such as croceum, require very deep planting, 

 but the Nodding Lily, having but the basal roots need not be 

 put more than six inches below the surface of the soil. A 

 piece of inverted sod beneath a Lily bulb and a covering of 

 fine sand is a precaution worth the taking. 



Nearly all Lilies grow naturally among some sort of her- 

 bage for even though they be sun lovers, the lower stem and 

 the bulb require protection from the direct rays of the sun. 

 In heeding this need of Lilies in general we are enabled to 

 bring about many charming pictures. For association with 

 the Nodding Lily no plant is so altogether delightful as 

 Gypsophila paniculata. I found this out quite by accident. 

 For the best effect the bulbs should be placed at least 18 

 inches from the roots of the Gypsophila. 



Lily Planting 

 Time Comes 

 Round Again 



T 



HE time has come to plant Lilies, 

 and I want to say a word for our 

 nodding Meadow Lily (L. canadense), 

 as one of our wild flowers most fit to 

 be brought into the garden. It is one of the most graceful 

 and charming of this aristocratic family and is of easier cul- 

 ture than most Lilies. The slender stem bears anywhere 

 from one to twelve or fourteen flowers according to how well 

 the bulb is established and comfortable. Belonging to the 

 Martagon group of Lilies, the soft yellow or orange petals 

 are reflexed, but so slightly in this species as to give the flow- 

 ers much more the appearance of bells than of Turk's-caps. 

 The bells, gaily spotted within, are hung upon slender stems 

 and the effect of a well grown stalk is most lovely and full of 

 grace — quite devoid of the elegant stiffness that is frequently 

 a characteristic of Lilies. 



In many parts of the east meadows are aflame with these 



Let's Call It the 



"Plum-Apple" 



Tree 



N 



INE or ten years ago I secured 

 from a well known nursery what 

 supposed to be the Siberian Crab- 

 apple. It was a fine sturdy little 

 specimen with half-drooping branches and a graceful, open 

 growth. It throve, and the next spring, when prepared to 

 welcome the snow-white blossoming of Pyrus baccata, we 

 were mystified when the young branches wreathed them- 

 selves in a garland of so dark and rich a pink as almost to 

 match the purplish-red leaves that were just beginning to 

 unfold. Later came more mystification when in the late 

 summer large, plum-colored fruits developed instead of the 

 little yellow ones expected. 



All these years we have puzzled over this tree. Every one 

 who came to the garden has been attracted to it whether in 

 fruit or flower, on account of its beauty and distinctness, but 

 none had ever seen it nor could they throw any light upon its 

 exact identity. 



The children promptly christened it the Plum-Apple tree, 

 for as one of them said "it looks like a plum and acts like an 

 apple," so what more simple than to call it the Plum-Apple? 

 And so it will always remain to us, I think, for its now dis- 

 covered proper appellation is Pyrus Niedzwetzkyana. Even 

 one's war Russian quails before it ! The description found in 

 last month's Garden Magazine decides the identity. The 

 curious purple flush that seems to affect the whole tree is 

 seen even in the flesh of the fruit. This, to the adult palate 

 is insipid and without relish, but the children consume the 

 handsome "plum-apples" with apparent enjoyment. 



It is our favorite flowering tree and I am glad to be able to 

 recommend it by its correct, if formidable, name. Its early 



64 



