FERNS AND WILD FLOWERS 8i 



most aggravated form of it known as " urban fog." No 

 town nor suburban garden, however unfavourably placed, 

 need be without its Ferns. 



It was against a blank wall facing east, in a brand-new 

 garden of the suburbs, that our own fernery was started, 

 and turned despair into delight. This part of the garden 

 had looked so hopeless. What were we to do with it ? 

 We knew that flowers would not bloom there, and yet 

 we wanted something cheerful to look at, because the 

 door- windows of our favourite sitting-rooms " gave on to 

 it," as the French say, and it would always be in sight. 

 Then some one suggested ferns, and it was felt at once the 

 right note had been struck. Between the house and the 

 wall there was chaos for about sixty-five feet ; then the 

 bare wall. Behind that in the next-door garden were an 

 Oak and one or two Apple trees, that gave some shelter. 

 Beside the house we made a terrace, high and dry, and 

 planted a Magnolia against the wall, and Rose trees. 

 Then came a gravel path, and beyond the path we laid 

 a little lawn ; this left room for a four or five-foot border 

 by the wall. Here was to be the fernery. 



Good drainage was secured by digging down and filling 

 up with crocks and broken tiles and cinders. Then we 

 got together a goodly store of stones, tree-stumps, and 

 gnarled roots, choosing Oak when possible, because of all 

 woods it is the least liable to decay. Oak will even 

 resist damp, though damp is a thing a fernery should 

 never be. That is the mistake most people make. Ferns 

 want a great deal of water, but never to be water-logged 

 — always dewy, fresh, and sprinkled. Now it was time 

 to think about the soil. We got in leaf-mould, loam, and 

 a little peat, which in those days was easier to get than it 

 is now. The building up of all these good materials was 

 a pleasant task. It is so nice to work with one's gardeners. 

 We cannot expect them to have the same cultivated 

 tastes as some of ourselves, who have travelled, and read, 



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