OUR GRANDMOTHER’S GARDENS 
though large enough to make a home for a goodly- 
family. 
The hedges of Coldstream are perhaps its greatest 
beauty. They are of various kinds, but unusually fine 
of growth and shape. Ancient box, smelling good in 
the hot sun, and smooth and solid as though carved 
out of blocks; cedar and oleander, mock-orange and 
arbor-vitae, twice as high as a man’s head; cherokee 
rose, evergreen trimmed into immense arches, and 
holly. These hedges encircle the whole garden, and 
divide it furthermore into various sections, each given 
over to special loveliness or important uses. Thus the 
rose-garden, the tea-house, the children’s playground, 
are all magnificently framed. But the preponderant 
beauty of the hedges does not prevent the rest of the 
garden from being wonderful. It blooms the whole 
year round. In January come the violets, white and 
purple and fragrant, the hyacinths and crocuses, and 
little flowers with lost names, rarer nowadays than those 
called rare. February brings the yellow jasmine that 
flowers before it leaves, and in the sun-warmed corners 
tulips and narcissi shake out perfume on every wander¬ 
ing breeze. The plum blossoms wreathe their snow 
upon the boughs, the Chinese almonds grow subtly 
sweet and lovely, while before the month has fairly 
merged into March, the gay company of daffodils are 
nodding in the wind and the dogwood flings wide its 
snowy banners. With March forsythia weaves a mist of 
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