536 
JOURNAL  OF  HORTICULTURE  AND  COTTAGE  GARDENER. 
June  11,  1896. 
HARDY  FLOWER  NOTES. 
The  welcome  change  has  come  at  length,  and  a  copious  rainfall 
has  changed  the  aspect  of  the  gardens  and  fields.  The  browned 
pasture*  and  the  dusty  hedges  are  again  bright,  and  clean  and  fresh. 
The  sun  has  come  out  again,  but  Nature  is  refreshed,  and  the 
plants  welcome  her  rays  as  warmly  a*  yesterday  they  seemed  to 
shrink  from  them.  Thus  is  change  needed  and  desired.  Obscured 
by  the  falling  rain,  heavy  laden  with  its  weight,  the  flowers  looked 
less  bright;  but  we  rejoiced,  knowing  that  the  earth  was  being 
charged  to  the  full  with  the  precious  fluid,  but  for  which  our 
gardens  would  be  deserts.  Tasselled  Pinks  drooped  over  the 
rockwork’s  slopes,  or  hung  to  the  ground  in  the  border,  yet  we 
enjoyed  their  temporary  discomfort.  Pandora’s  box  had  still  hope 
within,  and  we  knew  the  sun  would  smile  again,  and  our  flowers 
would  be  brighter  than  before. 
So  it  i*,  and  now  again  the  Eastern  Poppies  flaunt  their  orange 
scarlet  banners  in  the  sight  of  less  gorgeous  sitters,  whose  beauties 
are  les*  conspicuous  perhaps  but  more  refined.  The  Shirley 
Poppies  are  so  delightful  that  they  need  more  than  a  passing 
glance,  and  we  study  with  growing  admiration  the  exquisite 
colours  and  texture  of  some.  Pinks  of  many  kinds — some  double 
and  large,  and  others  single  and  small — are  bright  on  border  or  on 
the  rock  garden’s  terraces.  The  Delphiniums,  perhaps  the  noblest 
of  all  our  herbaceous  plants,  yield  us  their  massive  towering  spires 
of  purple  and  blue ;  and  Chinese  Pseonies  and  single  and  double 
Pyrethrums  add  to  the  variety  of  form  and  colour,  so  plentiful 
now.  Irises,  increasingly  admired,  show  us  that  if  the  Crocuses 
are  now  ‘:dead  to  the  world,”  their  natural  order  can  give  us 
almost  matchless  beauty  until  the  modern  Gladioli  enter  the  field. 
Some  of  the  old  Roses  have  opened  their  blooms  in  a  hopeless 
attempt  to  vie  with  some  of  the  newer  ones  in  perfect  beauty,  or, 
perhap*  with  less  ambitious  intentions,  seek  to  show  that  they  too 
are  worthy  of  our  praise.  The  Lilies  also  join  in  the  union  of 
forces,  whose  coalition  one  would  think  would  make  it  futile  even 
to  name  beside  them  the  unassuming  gems  of  the  rock  garden. 
Yet,  as  we  look  along  these  low  rockeries,  we  feel  that  no  ministry 
of  all  the  beauties  of  the  border  caa  ever  hope  to  reduce  to  silence 
those  quiet  and  simple  flowers,  which  cling  lovingly  to  the  stones 
among  which  they  grow.  Let  us  look  rapidly — for  time  is  flying — 
at  some  of  these  ere  passing  to  the  more  leisurely  talk  about  some 
special  flowers. 
There  are  the  creeping  Sandworts  or  Arenarias,  such  as 
A.  montana  or  A.  balearica.  There  are  Sun  and  Eock  Roses 
whose  fragile  and  “  crinkled  ”  blooms  remind  us  of  some  of  the 
Poppies,  but  are  in  most  cases  even  more  short-lived  than  they. 
Geraniums,  at  whose  simple  flowers  the  admirer  of  the  “Geranium” 
of  the  popular  nomenclature  looks  disdainfully,  open  their  blossoms 
to  give  us  quiet  pleasure.  The  Basil-leaved  Soapwort  depends 
beautifully  over  a  perpendicular  stone,  the  brighter  variety, 
splendens,  pleasing  all  with  its  crowd  of  little  flowers.  Stonecrops, 
white  and  grey  and  red,  mingle  with  some  of  the  later  Saxifrages, 
while  Lithospermums  or  Gromwells  and  dwarf  Bellflowers  give  us 
blue  or  purple  flowers  to  vary  the  colouring.  There  are  Potentillas, 
too,  and  Prickly  Thrifts  and  Lychnises  and  the  Golden  Drop,  and 
many  more,  refreshed  by  the  rain  and  ready  to  please  us  with  their 
beauty  till  the  days  shorten  again  and  other  plants  take  up  the  tale. 
So  is  the  garden  full  of  interest,  full  of  matter  for  thought,  and 
full  of  subjects  for  our  pen — a  thing  small  of  itself,  but  of  import¬ 
ance  when  we  come  to  tell  of  individual  flowers. 
Among  the  most  beautiful  of  the  inmates  of  the  rock  garden  is 
the  new  white  variety  of  Geranium  sanguineum,  the  Blood-red 
Crane’s-bill.  Very  beautiful  indeed  is  the  plant  on  one  of  my 
rockeries,  with  its  dwarf  habit,  its  deeply  cut  roundish  leaves,  and 
its  pure  white  flowers,  free  from  any  other  colouring  save  a  few 
small  lines  of  green  near  the  base  of  the  petals.  My  plant  was 
kindly  given  me  by  Mr.  W.  D.  Robinson-Douglas  of  Orchardton, 
Kirkcudbrightshire,  who  found  it  growing  among  the  many  plants 
of  the  ordinary  G.  sanguineum  on  the  sea  coast  near  his  own  estate. 
It  was  the  only  white  one  he  could  find,  and  although  there  are 
thousand*  of  plants  of  this  pretty  Geranium  on  the  coast  a  little 
way  from  here  I  have  not  been  able  to  meet  with  a  white  one  wild 
among  them.  That  there  is,  however,  at  least  another  stock  I  am 
aware,  as  a  white  G.  sanguineum  is  being  offered  by  a  London 
hardy  plant  dealer.  It  is  a  most  plea»ing  flower,  and  must  I 
suppose  bear  the  contradictory  name  of  G.  sanguineum  album,  the 
“  White  Blood-red  Crane’s-bill.”  We  become  accustomed  to  these 
things  in  names,  as  we  have  the  “White  Black  Mullein,”  and  a  few 
others  similarly  formed.  G.  sanguineum  album  may  be  increased 
by  division,  but  I  have  not  yet  ascertained  if  it  will  reproduce  itself 
true  from  *eed.  In  searching  my  commonplace  book  last  night  for 
a  reference  to  another  plant  I  came  upon  a  description  of  a  new 
Lychnis  as  it  was  offered  in  an  American  list  last  year.  I  had  ' 
recently  seen  the  plant  in  flower,  and  could  not  help  thinking 
how  much  should  be  subtracted  from  the  glowing  account  of  its 
merits. 
The  plant  in  question  wa9  called  Lychnis  Flos-Cuculi  plenissima 
semperflorens, and  here  are  extracts  from  its  description.  “Flowers 
delicate  rose  colour,  and  borne  in  exquisite  sprays  all  over  the 
plants  from  early  spring  until  frost.”  “  Decidedly  the  best  hardy 
plant  of  its  class  that  has  been  introduced  for  years.”  It  is,  as 
may  be  gathered  from  its  name,  a  double  variety  of  the  well-known 
Ragged  Robin,  and  is  certainly  much  overpraised,  although  still  of 
some  value.  It  is  considerably  inferior  in  beauty  to  the  double 
white  Ragged  Robin,  and  can  hardly  be  truly  called  “  the  best 
hardy  plant  of  its  class  that  has  been  introduced  for  year*.”  Its 
prolonged  flowering  remains  to  be  proved,  but  the  plant  I  saw  began 
flowering  in  May. 
Recently  mention  was  made  of  one  of  the  new  hybrid  Irises, 
I.  paravar,  being  in  bud,  and  a  promise  given  that  it  would  be 
spoken  of  when  in  flower.  The  eagerly  looked  for  flower  has  at 
last  come,  and  with  it  the  time  for  the  fulfilment  of  the  promise. 
I.  paravar  is  said  to  be  a  hybrid  between  I.  paradoxa,  one  of  the 
Oncocyclus  or  Cushion  Irises,  and  I.  variegata,  one  of  the  sub¬ 
genus  Pogoniris.  It  was  raised  by  Professor  Michael  Foster, 
whose  world-wide  reputation  is  enhanced  in  the  eyes  of  lovers  of 
flowers  by  his  appreciation  of  and  labour  among  the  Irises.  As 
usual,  it  is  unsatisfactory  to  have  to  attempt  to  draw  a  pen  and  ink 
portrait  of  this  Iris,  so  varied  are  its  shades  of  colour.  The 
colouring  seems  to  partake  largely  of  that  of  I.  paradoxa,  and  one 
would  suppose  that  the  variety  was  that  known  as  I.  paradoxa  var. 
violacea,  which  has  dark  violet  standards.  The  standards  of 
I.  paravar  are  similarly  coloured,  and  the  short,  rather  stiff  looking 
falls  are  almost  black  at  the  end,  and  are  marked  with  dark  purple, 
white,  and  almost  violet  blue.  The  petaloid  style  branches  may  be 
called  fawn  with  a  darker  shading  difficult  to  describe.  The 
conspicuous  feature  of  the  Oncocyclus  Irises,  the  hairy  “  cushion,” 
which  extends  down  the  claw  and  lower  part  of  the  blade  of  the 
flower,  is  very  well  marked  ;  while  the  influence  of  I.  variegata  i* 
principally  observed  in  the  number  of  flowers  on  the  stem,  which 
in  my  specimen  is  three,  I.  paradoxa  only  producing  one,  and  in 
the  height  and  vigour  of  the  plant.  I.  paravar  reached  the  height 
of  23  inches  here  this  season,  but  the  leaves  ate  only  about  8  inches 
in  length.  It  is  not  a  brilliant  Iris,  but  possesses  a  beauty  of  its 
own,  even  if  a  little  funereal  in  appearance  when  seen  at  a  little 
distance.  It  does  not  require  the  drying  off  process  almost,  if  not 
quite,  essential  to  insure  success  with  the  pure  Oncocycli,  and  has 
been  grown  here  in  the  border  in  light  sandy  soil. 
Not  at  all  common  and  not  at  all  showy  is  the  Zygadenus,  a 
plant  belonging  to  the  Natural  Order  Liliacese,  and  of  which  it  may 
be  said  that  it  is  almost  a  degradation  to  the  queenly  flower — the 
Lily— to  speak  of  it  at  this  time  as  related  to  that  “lady  of  the 
flowering  field.”  Botanists  tell  us,  however,  that  it  is  so,  and  as 
the  Zygadenus  is  in  flower  as  I  write  I  may  fitly  say  a  little  about 
it.  The  only  one  I  grow  is  that  named  Z.  elegans,  which  also 
appears  to  have  been  known  as  Z.  glaucus.  I  saw  it  first  a  good 
many  years  since  in  the  Edinburgh  Botanic  Garden,  and  raised  it 
from  seed  a  few  years  ago.  This  process  is  a  little  tedious,  as  the 
young  plants  did  not  attain  a  flowering  size  for  some  time.  Now 
that  they  have  done  so  I  feel  repaid  for  waiting,  as  I  now  have  a 
clump,  while  had  I  purchased  a  single  plant  I  would  have  had  to 
wait  for  year*  before  so  good  a  clump  could  be  secured.  To-day 
my  best  spike  has  had  a  misfortune,  as  a  man  who  was  laying  gravel 
on  the  walks  had  bent  it  over  and  defiled  its  flowers  in  spreading 
the  gravel.  Such  are  the  sorrows  of  gardening  ! 
Z.  elegans  produces  from  four  to  six  linear  glaucous  green  leaves 
from  1  foot  to  1^  foot  long  and  loose  racemes  of  *mall  flowers, 
greenish  outside  and  whitish  inside,  each  segment  being  marked 
with  a  green  spot.  It  comes  from  North  America,  and  is  said  to 
be  figured  in  the  “Botanical  Magazine”  (table  1680).  This 
Zygadenus  should  have  rather  a  moist  and  peaty  soil,  and  I  grow  it 
in  a  pocket  at  the  base  of  a  rockery,  where  it  receives  frequent 
waterings  in  dry  weather.  It  may  be  increased  by  division  or  by 
seeds.  The  only  other  Zygadenus  grown  at  Kew  appears  to  be 
Z.  glaberrimus  of  Michaux,  which  I  have  seen  but  have  never 
grown.  There  is  considerable  confusion  among  the  names  of  the 
Zygadeni. 
The  large-flowered  Dictamnus  grown  in  gardens  as  giganteus  or 
davuricus  is  so  fine  at  present  that  I  should  have  liked,  had  space 
permitted,  to  refer  to  it,  but  as  other  flowers  have  to  be  passed  over 
at  present  its  superior  beauty  can  only  be  mentioned.  My  first 
Nymphasa  has  opened  in  my  little  Water  Lily  pool  to-day  also,  and 
as  it  marks  the  success  of  an  attempt  to  grow  these  charming 
aquatic  plants  in  a  garden  whose  only  water  supply  is  that  from  a 
well  one  feels  highly  elated.  This  elation  i*  not  unpardonable 
under  the  circumstances.  The  success  of  the  experiment  opens  up 
