A METHOD OF WINTER GARDENING. 



235 



therefore, to draw the attention of the Fellows to a very inexpen- 

 sive but most effective system of winter gardening which I 

 myself have practised now for some years past, whereby, to a 

 real lover of plants, my garden is almost as pretty, interesting, 

 and attractive in winter as it is in the height of summer. 



I will premise that my little vicarage garden consists almost 

 entirely of borders — wide borders — full, or fairly full, of hardy 

 herbaceous plants and bulbs, and so on. I do not much affect 

 beds — at least my liking for them varies in inverse proportion 

 according to whether they are indoors or out — a good proportion 

 indoors, but only a small one here and there outdoors. A good 

 expanse of bright green grass, shaded with one or two large trees, 

 and dotted about haphazard (or rather with the artfulness that con- 

 ceals the art) with shrubs and large-growing herbaceous plants, like 

 the Acanthuses, the Rhubarbs, and the Fennels, and good 

 clumps of Pampas Grass, the Bamboos, Arundo conspicua, and 

 such like, and then the whole surrounded by wide borders, some 

 sunny and some shady, and all backed up with shrubs such as 

 Rhododendrons, Kalmias, Bays, Azaleas, Portugal Laurels, 

 Lilacs, Philadelphus (commonly known as Syringas),Laurustinus, 

 Weigelias, Hollies, and so on, that is my idea of a good, service- 

 able English pleasure-garden ; a garden with abundant variety 

 of form and colour, of flower and foliage ; a garden in which 

 every day finds something fresh to look at, to admire, and 

 watch ; a garden where every step brings variety, and every 

 season its own especial charm ; a garden not only to take 

 pleasure in, but to be itself the pleasure. 



Well, you will all agree that in such a garden as I have 

 faintly sketched, spring with its Snowdrops and Anemones, its 

 Primroses and Violets, its nodding blue and white Wood Hyacinths, 

 its Daffodils and Tulips, and its Apple-blossom, and a thousand 

 other of a hardy garden's glories — spring is, and must be, 

 charming. Who can attempt to describe the summer-garden, 

 with its Irises and its Foxgloves, its Pasonies and its Carnations, 

 its innumerable bell-flowers, and, chief of all, its Roses? 

 Summer is always charming. And so is autumn, with its 

 wealth of colour : its Dahlias — yes, I am very fond of Dahlias, 

 double and single, pompon and cactus, I would fain have them 

 all — and its Sunflowers, and its Michaelmas Daisies and 

 Chrysanthemums ; and then the leaf-glory of the ripening trees, 



b2 



