July, 1906 



AMERICAN HOMES AND GARDENS 



3 1 



The Potato Patch 



potatoes grown on my poor sandy soil are so good it makes 

 one lenient to them even in their ugly stages. 



A row of carrots with their feathery leaves and a row of 

 peas in bloom as a background have a distinct decorative 

 value. Even the soil itself, with its mauve bloom, when once 

 one has forgiven it, has a charm for the eye. The espalie 1 - 

 fruit trees, with their old-world look, are quite in keeping 

 with my garden; they suit the old-fashioned grass paths, and 

 they yield their fruit in a generous way, almost laying it into 

 one's hand. 



One corner of my garden grows chestnut and oak trees. 

 I leave it w r ild. One can afford to give Nature a bit when 

 there is ground to spare; and I can be lavish in this respect, 

 having no cuttings, seeds or bulbs crying out for room. So 

 the trees and underwood keep my wild bit furnished. In 

 the autumn, when the leaves are swept to the sides, they 

 form a border of most wonderful colors; and the vivid yel- 

 lows and brilliant reds almost compensate me for having 

 said "good-by" to my flowers. Of course, it will always be 

 "almost," for in spite of compensations one is really like the 

 fox in the fable, who lost his tail, and it is in his attitude of 

 mind that one will regard the gardens of the more fortunate. 

 Like the optimistic fox, one can accommodate oneself to cir- 

 cumstances, and in the end become quite convinced that 

 flowers, like a tail, are a useless encumbrance and that one 

 is ever so much better without them. 



One needs, of course, to thoroughly appreciate the point 

 of view from which such a garden should be considered. Is 

 one's admiration for it somewhat forced? Perhaps so; yet 

 1 hasten to put such thoughts away from me. The flower 

 gardens one sees are very beautiful — many of them — but 

 they represent an expenditure of time and money I could not 

 put into my place. Moreover I had tried, tried hard, labor- 



iously, expensively, with results more and more saddening 

 and disheartening, to make just such a garden as I would 

 like to have, to grow exactly those liowers, trees, shrubs, and 

 bulbs I had always wanted to grow; but evidently the world 

 held nothing of that kind for me, not the particular part of it 

 I had made my own. 



But a garden I must have, and a garden I did have, albeit 

 a new-old type of garden that perhaps not every one would 

 be satisfied with. And it pleases me and interests me, in- 

 terests me thoroughly, and delights me amazingly. And 

 why not? The vegetables ami fruits I grow have real 

 beauty of their own. They are arranged to develop that 

 beauty. They are planted, in most cases, in accordance 

 with a definite scheme. And I have beauty of form and 

 color, beauty as real as any that nature produces in her plant 

 life, beauty as varied as nature shows anywhere. And there 

 is no trouble, no worriment, no loss of sleep pondering if the 

 seeds are coming up, no worry over results. 



And I take, I dare say, a keen delight in the uniqueness 

 of my garden. I know no other like it, and it is mine own, 

 my very own. I have thought this garden without flowers 

 might give hints of helpfulness to others. Why should not 

 the market garden be arranged with somewhat of the taste 

 and care that are lavished upon the dower growth? Why, 

 if one is cramped for room, should not one deck one's 

 borders with useful vegetables, planted with an eye for beau- 

 ty, as one plants flowers? Surely if a plant be good to eat 

 it may not the less be admired for its appearance. However. 

 I need not argue the question. I submit my own case, and 

 it has given me many delightful hours and many a good dish 

 of healthy food. 



The Espalier Fruit Trees 



