That’s the real reason I was moved to set down these few rambling thoughts 
on paper and send them in gratitude to Elmer Gove, who sold me most of my 
bulbs! I can’t for the life of me understand why everybody doesn't grow 
gladiolus. At least everybody who lives in the suburbs or anywhere that he 
can have a small plot to play with. Twenty-five by twenty-five feet is plenty, 
dnd you can start with lots less than that. 
It’s surprising what a real thrill you get out of bringing a couple of dozen 
of your choicest blooms into town and brightening up your office with them, 
or showing off by giving them away to fellow-workers. 
“Oh, aren’t they gorgeous,” and ‘“‘Did you raise those yourself?” and “I 
never saw such beautifu gladiolus in my life” are the usual greetings I get for 
a bouquet of “sword lilies,” as our grandfolks used to call glads. 
Now here’s the funny part of it. The gladiolus are not really wonderful 
(certainly not to an expert), and they are certainly not hard to grew. All I do 
is buy good bulbs (mostly medium size) from reputable specialists, read plant- 
ing directions, and follow them. You simply can’t go wrong if you are willing 
to do what the experts tell you. Rockwell’s book helps a lot, too. 
Work? Sure, there’s some work involved, but not very much, and I’ve worked 
a lot harder for lots less results than my glads one me. Besides, I like diggin 
in the earth, and I like to create beauty, and I like to get by myself part o 
the time and “‘commune with nature.” My troubles seem to sort of fade into 
the background when my gladiolus are before me. 
It simply beats me that everybody doesn’t grow 
gladiolus. If they had any idea how easy it is and 
inexpensive (when you consider the dividends you get), 
I’m sure that more people would go in strongly for 
growing these wonderful flowers. 
Of course, in the old days (and until recent years in 
fact) gladiolus were subject to the rather devastating 
attacks of a little insect called ‘‘thrips.”” But they’ve 
been brought under almost perfect control nowadays 
with new insecticides, notably DDT, and it is an ab- 
solutely honest fact that I have not lost one bulb or 
spike of gladiolus to thrips this year. I dusted the 
bulbs (or corns, to be technical) in storage, and I 
dusted the Se faithfully (ten minutes a week). I 
did no? disinfect before planting. 

* ™ * * * 
All this fun in my life started three years ago when 
I moved out of New York to a rented house in the suburbs and had only a bit 
of shady sand to grow a few beans and tomatoes. I decided to put a few flowers 
in, and my eye was caught in a catalog by a collection of thirty gladiolus bulbs 
with extremely handsome colors. I bought them and planted them and, of 
course, got indifferent results because I had poor ground and little light. After 
all, gladiolus do need sun and fair soil. 
But I got enough out of the first year’s blooms to realize I was missing a 
reat neg So the next year I planted the bulbs in an open field nearby eee 
got full sun, and had much more encouraging results, though I planted only 
about two dozen. 
The third year—that was last summer—I bought a fe 
pe row plantings of them but still didn’t total anes than SOC 73 blooms 
summer. 
But by last spring the fever had reached almost boilin int and I 
the proud possessor of about 500 new bulbs, and I alanvedie en eared 
spre (March 16 the earliest lot) still in the same vacant lot, whose owner- 
s 
ip I have no idea of. (I wonder if the owner ever wand 
fothimsell whens beautifying his plot?) ers around and wonders 
