were pots of Turks Cap Lilies, so fed up and 

 nourished that they were magnificent. The 

 Trumpet Vine was planted in an old wooden 

 butter tub in soil so rich the individual flowers 

 were as large as a half pint measure. My hos- 

 tess informed me that it had taken just a few 

 hours to arrange all those pots and secure the 

 effect on that rocky eminence, which was lit- 

 tle less than marvelous. Other radiant flowers 

 were being "brought on" in frames, etc. to 

 replace the lilies and other plants. 



My friend told me she had nine gardeners, 

 but no head gardener! I thought that rather 

 significant. Her garden smock was of clear 

 green linen with a white linen collar, Irish 

 lace, ball buttons and frogs fastened it. The 

 two pockets were deep, but narrow, one 

 bulged with faded flowers, snippings, dead 

 leaves, etc. and from the other plant labels, 

 short stakes, string and rafifia peeped out. I 

 smiled. It impressed me as so familiar. 



I want to describe her garden hat. It was 



27 



