80 
The Garden Magazine, October, 1923 
THE WALL AS A LINK 
AND A.FRAME 
Brick “has the great virtues of 
strength and endurance, and these 
are values in beauty—only things 
which endure can acquire the 
subtle modulations of time’’ 
less lawns, of incessant 
change and no difference, 
as vapid and insignificant 
as the conversation on the 
piazza of a summer hotel. 
The reaction against it is 
now getting under way. 
Every change of taste or 
fashion has an argument 
for it, but the reasons that 
are given in its favor are 
no better than they were 
when some opposite taste 
prevailed. They seem 
better, because the taste 
has already shifted. The 
reasons for enclosing lawns 
THE VERY THING VINES 
WANT 
The iron fence of simple, substan¬ 
tial design is always serviceable 
and oftentimes decorative as here 
with its tumbling masses of vine. 
Garden at "Birchwood,’’ the home 
of Mrs. Anson Burchard, Locust 
Valley, L. I. 
and gardens with high walls are coming to seem to us better 
than those for leaving them all open to the public view. They 
are not now reasons of safety, but partly aesthetic reasons, and 
partly a growing liking for the sense of privacy. We are dis¬ 
covering more pleasure in the sense of seclusion, and also in the 
aspect of the garden—or of the whole house and setting—as 
something bordered and framed, a definitely limited composi¬ 
tion. Practically, one seems to get more value out of a bit of 
land that has a high wall between it and the street—or rather, 
let us say, a different value, and one that seems to bring more 
personal and significant results. 
I RRESPECTIVE of expense, the most satisfactory enclosure 
is a wall of stone or brick or concrete. It has the great vir¬ 
tues of strength and endurance; and these are values in beauty; 
for the impression of strength is in itself an aesthetic appeal, and 
only things which endure can acquire the subtle modulations 
of time. No other enclosure gives the same feeling of security 
and privacy. No other barrier reflects the sun so warmly when 
warmth is wanted, and casts so cool a shadow when shade is 
grateful. 
a woven wire fence, and observe that they act as if such a fence 
were the very thing they had always wanted. A framework of 
rough posts with a top rail gives the fence an outline, and the 
better decorative result is gained by a variety of vines, particu¬ 
larly the ones with brilliant (lowers, thick growing perennials 
(Clematis, Woodbine, Wistaria, Trumpet-vine, Bittersweet, 
Honeysuckle) and annuals (Scarlet-runner Bean, Morning- 
glory, Moonflowers, Japanese Gourds). Scarlet-runner Beans 
are especially decorative and quick growing, serving the eco¬ 
nomical purpose of being edible as well as beautiful. Nature 
will make anything beautiful that will last long enough for the 
working of her slow enchantments. The trouble with wire is 
that it will not last long. 
T O RETURN to fences as social history, a few generations 
ago in New England villages there was an era of the picket 
fence. Originally merely defensive against roving cows, it 
came to symbolize a standard of living, like the cleanliness of a 
starched white collar. But its imperative need as defense had 
long passed away when, almost suddenly, it disappeared. At 
about the time when people began to build so-called “Oueen 
Anne” houses—rather red¬ 
dish things, all gables and 
angles, and vehemently 
shingled—they took down 
their picket fences. There 
was a feeling that a street 
looked more spacious, dig¬ 
nified and generous as well 
as more sociable, without 
them. To-day, villages, 
towns, small cities, and 
suburbs of large cities, from 
the Atlantic to Kansas, are 
dominated by that fence¬ 
less mood. It is a world of 
restless roofs and meaning- 
