The Terrace Gardens, 
Walpole, N. H. 
March i, 1935. 
Dear Gardeners: 
Even as I write, Spring overlooks the Southern horizon. 
Fireside fretting is near an end for you and me. What a happy 
circumstance! What exciting prospect! 
Mr. Bacon, sage purveyor of saws, once wrote tersely, and 
I think truly, “God Almighty first planted a garden. And in¬ 
deed it is the purest of pleasures. It is the greatest refreshment 
to the spirits of man; without which buildings and palaces are 
but gross handiworks; and a man shall ever see that when ages 
grow to civility and elegancy, men come to build stately sooner 
than to garden finely; as if gardening were the greater perfec- 
yy 
tion. 
Three hundred years bear witness to Mr. Bacon’s sagacity. 
One somehow can wrest wood, brick and mortar to his dreams, 
and when so wrested, there remains for his delight a certain 
permanence of mien; but Nature, changeless and ever changing, 
cannot be so wrought. Or if, by chance, so wrought to-day; 
tomorrow she capriciously alters her mien, and ceases to be 
beautiful. And so it happens that the most successful gardens 
are more architectural than horticultural. 
Yearning for the inspiration and the resolution to make a 
garden fair, each spring yet finds us driven afresh to delving, 
' restoring, reviving and rearranging. Until summer is spent and 
another weary waiting for a sundried garden spot comes upon 
us, we labor lovingly to preserve and enhance what store of 
garden beauty is ours, humbly realizing that the importunate 
earth and her pliant offspring are ever jealous of our most 
trifling lapses. 
Hence the zest of gardening! And hence (how fortunate) 
the perennial opportunity of the plant grower to hawk his wares. 
If you are in need of garden fare for gardens fair, we can 
help you, perhaps—but whether so or not— 
May your color arrangements evoke the right, and not the 
wrong, kind of “Ohs” and “Ahs”. 
Sincerely yours, 
George S. Harris, 
