224 AMERICAN HOMES AND GARDENS 
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JUNE IN THE GARDEN 
Photographs by Nathan R. Graves and others 
HAT a month of joyfulness is June in the 
garden! It seems only yesterday that we 
were coaxing Mother Nature to lift her 
white blanket that Spring might awaken to 
new life the sleeping plants that lend their 
color to the season. We are reminded of 
all the poets of the garden, Wordsworth, Tennyson, even 
old Geoffrey Chaucer, who sings in one of his prologues: 
‘‘When almost ended was the month of May, 
Along the meadows green, whereof I told, 
The freshly springing daisy to behold, 
And when the sun declined from south to west, 
And closed was this fair flower, and gone to rest, 
For fear of darkness that she held in dred, 
Home to my house full hastily I sped; 
And, in a little garden of my own, 
Well-benched with fresh-cut turf, with grass o’ergrown 
I bade that men my couch should duly make; 
For daintiness and for the Summer’s sake, 
I bade them strew fresh blossoms o’er my bed.”’ 
Every corner of the lawn and garden deserves the careful attention that 
has been given to this attractively planted terrace nook 
A MONTHLY KALENDAR OF TIMELY GARDEN OPERA- 
TIONS AND USEFUL HINTS AND SUGGESTIONS 
ABOUT THE HOME GARDEN AND 
GROUNDS 
All queries will gladly be answered by the Editor. If a personal 
reply is desired by subscribers stamps should be enclosed therewith. 
a) 
June, 1912 
We will find the lovely Columbine blossoming this month 
yellow or scarlet or red or purple or white, that flower of 
strangely contrasted names, borrowing Columbine from the 
Latin columba, a dove, and Aquilegia (its scientific name), 
from aquila, an eagle! In the old, old days of yore, credu- 
lous folk called it Lion’s Herb, believing that it was the 
favorite food of these fierce animals of the desert and 
jungle. And nowadays we fondly couple the name Colum- 
bine with Columbia, and even find an association of enthu- 
siasts who seek to propagate the idea of its adoption as 
America’s national flower, just as the Rose is for England 
and the Lily for France. Monkshood will be blossoming 
in June too. It is a lovely plant, but a sinister one. It was 
brewed by Medea to fill the poisoned cup offered the wary 
Theseus. It was with the juice of Monkshood (dconite) 
that the ancients used to anoint their weapons when pre- 
paring to do battle, and the old-time Greeks were wont to 
tell how Chiron, the Centaur, discovered its dreaded powers 
by dropping upon his hoof an arrow that had been dipped 
in the juice of the plant, his death accompanying his dis- 
covery. ‘They believed too that Monkshood was sown in 
the garden of Hecate by Cerberus, the three-headed mon- 
ster who guarded the place of shadows. But June’s garden 
will find within its borders flowers of less sorrowful an 
ancestry,—Campanula (Venus’s Looking-glass), Iris (the 
Lily-of-France), Honeysuckle, Hollyhock, Jasmine (to the 
Arabs the flower of love), Linden (the holy tree of the old 
Germans), the Rose, Pyrethrum, Salpiglossis, Schizanthus, 
Sedum, Spirea, Sweet Alyssum, Sweet Pea, Veronica, the 
Violet (sacred to Venus when the gods were still upon Olym- 
pus), and the Larkspur, though that beautiful plant has al- 
most as sorrowful a history as the Aconite. ‘This was the 
flower the marks of whose petals formed the letters A I A, 
signifying Ajax, terror of the Trojans, for it was believed 
that the blood of this disappointed hero dropped upon the 
earth, and from it the Larkspur as Delphinium Ajacis 
sprung forth. 
F course there may be those to whom a garden means 
just plants—vegetables to eat or flowers to sniff at— 
prosaic persons who are so busy just living to-day that it 
never occurs to them that yesterday makes it possible and 
to-morrow will make it profitable. Why, when the whole 
world is full of interesting things about everything, should 
anyone be content to know almost nothing about anything? 
And isn’t it true that we know too little about the things in 
our gardens, though we may pride ourselves greatly on the 
knowledge we have acquired of the subject of getting them 
in. 
O care for the poetry of things does not mean deserting 
practical problems. ‘Thus it comes to pass that if we 
would have beautiful flowers to talk about (and fat vege- 
tables—-what a temptation the mundane is, after all!)— 
we must go about the business of completing the manual 
