July, 1906 



AMERICAN HOMES AND GARDENS 



29 



My Garden 

 Without Flowers 



By Carine Cadby 



Illustrated 



by 



Will Cadby 



IKE every one else, I began my garden with 

 very high ambitions. There were to be 

 rows of daffodils, jonquils and tulips in the 

 spring. In the summer roses, sweet peas 

 and mignonette were to scent the air, and 

 dahlias, asters and chrysanthemums were to 



cheer me through the autumn. 



For a few years I struggled with fate, but circumstances, 



in the shape of an abominably poor soil, were against me, 



and my flowers refused to grow. I fed the hungry soil with 



rich food, but nothing 



seemed to still its hunger. 



It ate up all my seeds; my 



bulbs went into the ground 



and were seen no more; 



and my cuttings perished 



miserably. The tiny row of 



hollyhocks that had been 



coaxed into existence were 



mistaken by a friend for a 



dwarf species; the few 



daffodils that condescended 



to grow gave me no 



blooms; and as for the 



roses — they once and for 



all refused my garden's 



hospitality. 



While I was still bat- 

 tling with my refractory 



flowers, an old book fell 



into my hands, and I 



learned from it how, in the 



old days, gardens without 



flowers had been con- 

 sidered pleasure enough. 



In fact it was only in 1567 



that flower gardens were 



really invented by a man 



named John Parkinson. 



Until then only fruit, 



vegetables and herbs were 



cultivated, and one reads 



of the square plots bor- 

 dered with privet, sage or 



gooseberry. Red and 



w h i t e currants seem to 



have played a prominent 



part, being referred to as 



"raisins." Queen Elizabeth, with her love of color, naturally 

 encouraged flower gardens. Here was an idea for me. If 

 my foremothers before her had been content to do without 

 flowers why should not I ? 



After this I felt quite justified in ending the unequal 

 struggle. Flowers I would give up. They should vex me 

 no more. My garden should be frankly useful; but, at the 

 same time, not a dull kitchen garden. There should be 

 something pleasant and comely to look at from the win- 

 dows. One must have a place in which to spend the long 



out-of-door summer days. 

 The anaemic flowers 

 • should all go, but the fir 

 trees and little lawns had 

 served me well for carpet 

 and shade and never made 

 my heart ache, so they 

 might remain. 



Now my garden is thor- 

 oughly pre - Elizabethan. 

 There are borders of 

 marjoram, rosemary and 

 lavender, and beds of sage, 

 mint, thyme and other 

 herbs, besides rows of 

 gooseberries and "raisins." 

 The beans climb up their 

 tall sticks along the grassy 

 path, forming quite an ave- 

 nue. The beetroot leaves, 

 with their warm red, make 

 a beautiful patch of color. 

 The onions, when i n 

 bloom, stand up boldly in 

 a row, forming a most 

 charming decorative 

 frieze. What is prettier 

 than an asparagus bed. 

 with its red berries? Cab- 

 bages, with their leaves of 

 wonderful bluish gray, are 

 studies in tone ; and even 

 the potato patch, when it 

 is still green, is not un- 

 sightly. One has to con- 

 fess it becomes a little 

 cheerless when its growth 

 is completed, but the 



Wild Bit of Land 



