isolated position of a pure white vine growing up on a white 
stucco wall, which it would have softened without changing, 
would have been rarely interesting. Sometimes one wants light, 
not shadow. I know one old garden where there is a bench under 
a gnarled apple-tree. The owner goes there to watch the sunset — 
to catch the last light of the dying day. Long, long ago she moved 
her white Ribbon Grass out of the garden where it had become a 
w^eed. Whether it was thrown out in the orchard and refused to 
die, or was planted there a-purpose, I know not. But it has 
thriven to the point of driving out everything else. At twilight, 
Avhen the setting sun drives his horizontal red beams under the 
branches of the old trees, one knows at last the light of the 
Elysian Fields. Each pale blade turns slightly ruddy, and the 
field glows, a luminous, soft pale pink under foot. 
" — They came at length to the regions of Eternal Joy, 
delightful green retreats, and blessed abodes in groves, where 
happiness abounds. Here the air is freer and more enlarged, 
and clothes the field A\dth radiant light. ' ' 
Virgil's "Aeneid" (vi) 
The opprobrium cast on the more palpably artificial foliage, 
perhaps because it is more palpably artificial and less like our 
native stock, has to some extent passed by the grey-leaved plants. 
Some of them to be sure are under a cloud. One recalls at once 
the worst suburban plantings of Koster's Blue Spruce, where 
the more exquisite persons take time to shudder, even if passing 
by at forty miles an hour. Koster's Blue Spruce can be a hideous 
eye-sore, the outward and visible sign of inward vulgarity. 
In color it is rather like the Betinispora squarrosa, which is 
more soft and genteel in appearance. At one time it was given 
me to plant against a castle-like turret and high wall of light 
greenish-grey stone. The building was distinctly interesting 
— enough so that it was wise to emphasize its qualities rather 
than to hide them. I tried Koster's Blue Spruce, Eetinisporco 
squarrosa, glaucus red cedars, one fine Abies concolor, and 
between planting and wall some rampant Rosa Japonica which 
tossed its arms up the wall and thrust them out between the 
grey trees. The ugly Koster's Blue Spruce forgot to be cocky. 
Its blue turned the color of the stone, and its fine pyramid served 
very well to repeat in the foreground the general lines of the 
turret above. Prim shapes and ghostly greyness of planting were 
jumbled about by the rose. It proved to be one place where 
grey foliage was better than green; where strong contrast of 
color and rampant growth would have detracted from the 
interest of the building. 
Among our garden favorites are many which have a grey or 
glaucous green leaf. We could not get along without our pinks. 
We all use, more or less, Arabis, Nepeta 3Iussnii, Cerastium, 
42 
