The Garden Magazine, October, 1920 
T HE plan shows the general layout of this little garden. Two 
long beds, forming a frame for the bit of lawn in the centre, 
are planted exactly alike; tall plants are at the back, in this case 
Larkspurs alternating with New England Asters. In front of 
these is a solid row of early white Phlox. Groups of white Lilies 
alternate with Chinese Larkspurs in front of this and Scotch 
Pin-ks grow in front of the Lilies, while a big white Lupin plant 
stands in the end of each bed. All these beds here are outlined 
with a very small annual Sweet Alyssum. 
This arrangement leaves a vacant strip about two feet wide 
between the perennials and the front of the beds, which gives 
an opportunity to vary the color scheme from year to year by 
employing different annuals in this space. At various times we 
have used Balsams, sometimes mixed and sometimes all one 
color, Snapdragons, annual Phloxes, Verbenas, Stocks, Schi- 
zanthus and Asters in various combinations. Some of these — 
particularly the Balsams — were unsatisfactory as the very first 
frost killed them. This season 1 am using pot Marigolds for 
various tones of yellow and a pale blue Ageratum. 
The outer beds are less formally planted with perennials 
including Columbines, Foxgloves, Irises, Sweet-williams, 
Roses, Forget-me-nots, Daisies, Chrysanthemums, Hollyhocks, 
Pyrethrums, Larkspurs, Pansies, Pinks, etc. Bold broad color 
effects are not aimed at in these outer beds, as they are always 
viewed from close at hand. 
The charm of this secluded retreat will be greatly increased 
by the small oval pool we plan to build in the centre of the green 
and the placing of garden seats under the pergola or in the 
shade of the Apple trees. The border and formal garden are 
still the two chief features in my plan, although there were 
interesting developments in connection with the tennis court 
which was built several years ago to the north of the house. The 
Iris garden, between the court and the highway, is one of these 
and rivals in interest the long grass walk running along the 
opposite side of the court to the rustic gate which opens into the 
orchard. 
As these several undertakings became accomplished facts, the 
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desire for new problems and conquests seized me. Last summer 
I made a start at what promises to be, eventually, a long grass 
walk, running between straight-edged double borders of peren- 
nials and connecting the formal garden and the studio. This is 
still largely a thing of dreams though it is taking shape and 
substance. And actually this double border is being forced 
upon me by the accounts of English gardens 1 read — and the 
desire to make room for the hundred and one perennials 1 now 
have no place for! 
In these remote latitudes — eight miles back from the western 
shore of Lake Champlain in the first foothills of the Adirondacks 
— Winter, like Richard the Third, is born with his teeth in his 
head; and with them he holds on so tenaciously that Spring’s 
heralds have fairly to blow their trumpets in his very ears be- 
fore he will relinquish his grip and make his tardy lingering exit. 
The summer climate, however, needs no apology and finds little 
difficulty in inducing us all to lay aside so far as possible the cares 
of the work-a-day winter and come trooping “ hame ag’in.” 
A PPLEGARTH is truly a home and not a show place and the 
. garden scheme suits with it. The planting is simple and 
aims at being so, the purpose in all the planning always having 
been to gain a desired effect with the entailment of as little labor 
and expense as would be consistent with honesty and perman- 
ence. The reasons are two-fold: simplicity first for its own sake 
and second, to make it possible to get on without the services of 
a professional gardener— without the necessity even of coldframes 
and hotbeds and all those contrivances and appurtenances that 
must be taken into account along with the gardener’s salary. 
This we do; and since gardens — if not gardeners! — are as vain 
of praise as a child, and bask accordingly, may 1 be pardoned for 
the garden’s sake for closing with what I overheard a French 
Canadian visitor tell her neighbor, as they stood together for 
the first time in the little formal garden tucked away out of 
sight behind the bank of evergreens? 
“Tis like thees lee'le garden, thees very garden, 1 know, in 
those gardens of Paradise!” 
WINTER MAKES A TARDY, LINGERING AND RELUCTANT EXIT 
But the old trees are the mute, staunch embodiment of that patience which comes to possess the souls of gar- 
deners in all climes and places, they being the folks who at last reach something like a unity with Time 
