FLOWER GARDENING 
IN THE HEART OF AMERICA 
ETHEL GREENOUGH HOLMES 
Missouri Barren Land Literally Made to 
Blossom with the Rose—Discounting Droughts 
and Gophers, Cyclones and Bobtailed Mice 
|S A field for flower gardening, the heart of America 
would perhaps not be selected by any one with an 
intimate knowledge of its climate, swept as it is bv gales 
from the great plains and too often treated to a short¬ 
age of moisture during long periods of the year 
(not to mention possible blizzards or cy¬ 
clones) ; and yet here was 1 set down 
to live! And all my life I had 
wanted a garden with never a 
chance before of anything 
more promising than a win¬ 
dow-box to grow it in! 
I cannot say that I 
met with much encour¬ 
agement when 1 started 
out upon this project. 
The first persons of 
whom 1 inquired as to 
the possibility of having 
a garden said very firmly: 
“ Nothingcan livethrough 
the summer! You can have 
a spring garden, but nothing 
can live through the summer! 
Being entirely ignorant on the 
subject I had to believe them, and 
make up my mind to be content with 
a spring garden. But when the fall 
came along 1 found that 1 was not 
alone in my ignorance, for quite a 
number of things, had lived through 
the summer and bloomed late into 
the fall! 
Fhe next person with whom I talked 
said rather hesitatingly: “Why, yes, 
there are quite a number of things that will grow all the year, 
my aunt has had a garden for years.” My heart gave a great 
bound at that and 1 decided that if she could have a garden. I, 
too, would have a garden. 
I he first year we were in our new house we raked, harrowed, 
and sowed the front lawn, and I dug a modest bed opposite 
the east porch in which with great excitement I sowed a “ mixed 
bouquet” packet, thinking that some of it would surely come 
up. And every few days I took a hopeful look at the drying 
soil and our newly budding shrubs. It seemed to me that it 
did not rain as often as it should, so pretty soon we began 
dragging the hose around. And it never rained, and it never 
rained, and it never rained from mid-May till August! Day 
after day large fluflfly white clouds would appear to arouse our 
hopes only to be dispersed or consumed by continuous hot 
winds which blew day and night with unabated determination. 
One of my neighbors set out a row of Geraniums and when 
she saw them battered and pulled day after day she said to 
me; “When I look at those Geraniums 1 can just hear them 
shriek at me, ‘ You darned fool, what did you plant us out here 
for’!” And it was very, very hot and painfully dry; and it 
seemed as if the moon shone in our eyes all night, and the sun 
never went down till long after any sun I had ever been accus¬ 
tomed to knowing. 
ROSES ON THE TERRACE OF A MISSOURI HOME 
“One should garden with a thankful heart for all favors 
received and a firm belief that there are as good flowers 
in gardens as smile at one from the covers of cata¬ 
logues,” says Mrs. Holmes who long ago translated 
her belief into actuality as this flourishing greenery at 
her Kansas City (Mo.) doorstep amply bears witness 
A ND yet several flowers grew. Petunias, uncared for in a 
l corner bed, bloomed and bloomed, a mass of brilliant pink. 
I never since have had such fine Mignonette as flourished on 
one plant in the “mixed garden,” and a small, furry gray Sun¬ 
flower appeared, about three feet high, that 1 
thought very charming. In fact, other 
strange flowers that 1 have never 
seen before or since also appeared 
in the “mixed garden.” 
Perhaps the less said about 
the lawn the better. Stray 
horses loved to roll in its 
soft dust, cows stood on 
it, moles burrowed un¬ 
der it and the principal 
crop was Pigweed, Wild 
Lettuce and a rich 
trimming of Foxtail. 
All the most enthusi¬ 
astic gardeners admitted 
it was not what they 
would call a good garden¬ 
ing year; but then 1 had 
never known any other, and I 
enjoyed my five flowers and was 
not at all discouraged, imagining it 
was probably my inexperience that 
failed to produce a richer harvest. 
The next year I thought it would be 
so pretty to have a nice neat hedge of 
those furry Sunflowers between me and 
my neighbor, so I saved the seed and 
planted a long row. They grew all 
right that season, ranging from eight 
to eleven feet in height and broad 
in proportion. Everything grew, it was warm and muggy, 
regular greenhouse temperature, produced by frequent thun¬ 
derstorms that swept down upon our new green infants and 
laid them low; and when they came up again, along came a new 
troop of elephants. They bloomed but they were not exactly 
as tidy as one could wish with a picture of New England gardens 
in the back of one’s head, but 1 was simply delighted with every 
floweret. 
One of the interesting phases of gardening out here is our 
inability to prognosticate the height or width of any given 
variety. If we have a warm wet spring, things grow like the 
proverbial Bean of Jack; if we have a cold, dry spring, nothing 
appears until it becomes so hot they may be cooked to a crisp. 
Sometimes it rains by night and steams by day until green mold 
forms on open pasture land; and again the lawn will develop 
cracks till it looks as if it were going to fall through to some¬ 
where, one is not quite sure where. 
N OR was it only the climatic difficulties that I had to struggle 
heartily with: we were visited by the most numerous and 
novel fauna, new at least to me. There were two horses who 
knew no ties strong enough to restrain their fondness for com¬ 
ing and putting the most enormous feet into any small patch 
of green that 1 might have planted, no matter how isolated or 
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