ON THE SOWING OF SEEOS 

 IN FIATS AND BORDERS 



DOUBT very much if in the absence of nursery and seed 

 catalogues we Amateur Gardeners could find the time of 

 waiting possible throughout the long Winter. 



Blessed indeed is the woman who owns a greenhouse, whether 

 it is one of the impressive glass-domed-roof kind, the acre under 

 glass, the modest but practical kind, or the little "bump-your-head- 

 if-you-don't-stoop" sort. At all events the Amateur is blessed, and 

 doubly so, if she is near enough to enjoy the absorbing delights of 

 growing from seed or assisting in the work of growing her own 

 plants and seeing with her own eyes the mystery of germination. 

 Oh, how I have watched and waited for the tiny glimmer of pale 

 green to show on the surface of my seed flats! Then the gradual 

 poking through of their little heads bearing the empty seed shells 

 like tiny viziers, next the strengthening of the proud little stalk 

 with its proud little pair of leaves and on and on, until — with a 

 spoon thrust in deeply and an inch all around from the center, I 

 lift out each dear little plant and give it an independent home in a 

 three-inch paper pot. It is then, when I behold my great array, my 

 verdant little army of transplanted seedlings that my heart grieves 

 for the gardener that must order by the dozen, or twenty-five "at 



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