The Garden Magazine, May, 1923 
179 
It is amazing what a novice can do who has awakened to the 
lure of nature-study; but, on the other hand, we can be truly 
satisfied only with what we do well, with achievements which 
have cost us work and thought. Many a one who, admiring a 
beautiful garden, thinks he can then go home and do likewise 
without further ado, will find the elusiveness of garden-making 
W ILD gardening, in the sense of going to nature as a model, 
could never be a left-to-itself untidiness, as a number of 
people seem to think. It is rather an unregulated harmony, a 
thoughtful planning which hides the hand of man. There is 
never disorder in a tangle of nature. Even her most whimsical 
caprices arouse our wonder at their fitness. Numberless nooks 
THE POOL IN MRS. PICKENBACH'S GARDEN 
“The accidents, as in all gardens, are most interesting—thus, a Water-lily placed with greatest care near 
the pool, perished; but on the spot some uninvited Cat-tails now tower picturesquely.” Six years ago no 
part of this West Orange (N. J.) garden, save the few old trees in the background, had come into being 
rather sobering; concrete thoughts will have to be assimilated 
through experience before he can take unto himself what an¬ 
other possesses. One of the most beneficial things about gar¬ 
den-making is the convalescence from mistakes. Inspiration 
comes of failure as much as of success. I have been asked re¬ 
peatedly how ever I made my “ wild garden? ” Pencil and paper 
poised for action, impatiently eager for immediate advice, visi¬ 
tors beg for information which only years of personal effort, 
failure, and success can possibly give. If I could explicitly tell 
everyone how it was done, there certainly would be no unusual 
garden to grow enthusiastic over. 
and crannies, hollows and crevices among rocks and stones, in 
and under fallen trees and mossy logs make happy homes for 
the flora which is as limitless in its variety as marvelous in its 
beauty. Many such models nature has for us to work upon. 
If a prospective garden-maker acquire a piece of woodland, let 
him begin by leaving every thing possible that is good or amen¬ 
able to future improvement. What follows, will be according 
to his light. Such light, or lack of it, is exemplified in the case of 
a woman who had just started a garden by having hundreds 
of rocks and stones carted away, at great expense. When she 
sighted the masses in my garden, doing splendid service, she 
