Chapter 24 of 24 · 3780 words · ~19 min read

CHAPTER XX.

GENERAL MANAGEMENT OF THE GARDEN.

_The Soil Best Adapted to its Growth._

The most desirable soil for flowers, particularly for Annuals, Perennials, etc., is a mellow loam, that will not bake down and crack open under the influence of hard showers and hot suns. If you do not possess a good soil, why, of course, you must do the best you can, and you can improve a stiff, clayey soil by adding sand or ashes and manure.

A flower garden must have good drainage; if water settles upon its surface, and freezes and thaws during the winter, you may be sure that your plants will not survive. There is no use in trying to grow flowers in poor soil; but every one can make a small compost heap, in an out-of-the-way corner, and give it all the soap suds on washing days that are not needed on the borders. When the leaves fall, secure all you can; hire a small boy to gather them for you, and put them on the pile; they are said to be the very poetry of manure--certainly, they contain the best elements of flower food. Add to this heap the weeds that are collected, but don’t have any seed-pods among them; throw upon it all the slops from the house, and, by the next year, you will have good plant food. It must be turned over several times so as to expose it to the action of the air. A load of grass sods from the meadow is the best foundation for such a “bank.” To use this season, procure a large barrel, and fill it up with as good soil as your garden can boast, then turn into it, every morning, the slops from the chambers. No disagreeable odor will arise from it, but a rich soil will be made. Use it carefully, putting a few tablespoonsful about the roots of the plants, and digging them in, so as not to touch the stems. Dig this about the roots of your Geraniums, Roses, Verbenas, Pansies, etc., not letting it come in direct contact with the tender roots, and you need not complain of the poverty of the soil; while the rich blooms of your flowers will fully repay the extra labor. The barrel can be hid away under vines; and, as the earth is used up, add more to it. The Japanese and Chinese gardeners can teach us a lesson in these matters. Nothing is wasted in their country, and their flower gardens are wonderfully beautiful and gorgeous.

“Eternal vigilance,” Gen. Jackson’s pet phrase, applies particularly to gardening. One cannot grow fine flowers without some labor; and you will soon learn that constant efforts are needed to make the flowers grow into fine-shaped plants, filled with blossoms. You cannot garden one week, and let it alone the next; but you must watch it, and water it, and weed it, daily, if you would be successful. It requires as much care to cultivate a handsome garden, as to grow cabbages, melons and tomatoes, and no more.

An open exposure is desirable, where the sun will have free access to the plants; there are some flowers like Fuchsias, Primroses, Daisies, Pansies, etc., which bloom far better in beds that are sheltered from the noonday sun; and their tastes should be gratified. Yet nearly all plants love the sun, and grow better, if directly under its influence.

_Selection and Sowing of Seeds._

This is a matter of importance to amateur gardeners, who usually desire the handsomest kinds that can be grown. It takes no more time and care to grow a small, poor, single flower than a rich, double variety; and the cost is but little more. Always purchase your seeds of reliable, well-known seedsmen, and do not content yourself with those offered by small traders.

Seed raisers who make it a business, raise only the finest kinds; the poorer sorts do not pay. Hundreds of dollars worth of good seeds are annually wasted because the growers do not know how to plant them. They require a very finely pulverized soil; and, if the coarser particles are sifted out, the seeds will germinate more surely. In the Chapter on ANNUALS, minute directions are given for sowing seeds. Since writing it, I have sowed sixty, or more, different varieties, and hardly one has failed to germinate. Every seed of some varieties has come “up.” There is no difficulty in their culture, if you will only take a little pains in planting them, and shield them from the sun, with newspapers, for two or three days.

_Weeding._

This is usually considered a terror; but if you will use a small rake and hoe, as heretofore advised, _every morning_, for a few minutes, you will keep the upperhand of them. The first leaves of weeds or plants are their sole nourishment; cut them off and the young weeds must die, however tenacious of life they may be.

_Watering._

Leaves absorb and give out moisture, and inhale and exhale air; they are the lungs of every plant, and if they are destroyed the whole plant suffers. The pores in the leaves of all plants, by which they transmit air and moisture, are exceedingly small, and liable to be filled up if exposed to smoke and dust; therefore, if there are not plentiful showers, you must water them freely every evening. It is of but little use to give water after the sun has risen. In this hot, dry climate the watering pot is a necessity, and tubs of water should be drawn from hydrant or pump every morning, and allowed to set in the sun, to take off the chill; then, after seven o’clock P. M., apply it.

_Planting Out, Pruning, etc._

The branches and leaves of plants rarely touch one another while growing, and you should learn from them not to crowd your plants in bed or border; for air and light are quite as needful as water and good soil.

When shrubs produce an abundance of foliage and no flowers, either remove them to a purer soil, or cut through some of the principal roots. Root-shortening is often resorted to, by florists, to force plants to bloom.

By checking the growth of plants, you throw strength into the flowers. All shrubs produce their flowers on the terminal points of the branches; after the bloom is past, if these are pinched off, you will have two or three branches for one in the succeeding year.

All plants are in their most vigorous growth while in flower, and should never be transplanted at that time, for it will check their growth, if it does not kill them. This is the time for taking cuttings, as they are then most ready to send forth roots. The throwing off of its leaves by a newly planted cutting, is a sign that it has begun to grow, while if the leaves wither on the stem, it shows that the cutting had not strength enough to send forth shoots.

You can train a plant into any shape you please, by pinching off the shoots, for the plant will avenge itself by sending forth two or three more, in lieu of the one you pinched in. A plant pinched in June will flower in July; if pinched in July, it will flower in August. All buds proceed from the tips, and by pinching in Carnations, Bouvardias, Fuchsias, etc., their flowers will be put back and they need not be allowed to bloom until autumn. This method of training will produce thick, bushy plants, filled with many small shoots, which, when left unmolested, will produce hundreds of buds and flowers.

To procure a succession of Roses, prune down to three eyes on all the branches of some bushes, as soon as the buds begin to expand; defer the same operation with others, until the leaves are expanding; on the former bushes the three buds will bear early flowers; in the latter, they will not begin to expand until the others are in full foliage, and will bloom later in the season.

Dry, east winds are very injurious to plant life, by absorbing the moisture from the leaves of the plants more quickly than they are able to give it out; they will often wither the plants as badly as a frost, and should be guarded against in the same way. Cover all your plants with papers, boxes, etc., if they are so unfortunate as to be exposed to it. I have seen an east wind nearly ruin a flourishing bed of Verbenas and Heliotropes in the month of May. If your grass-plat becomes overrun with moss, manure the surface, and the grass will soon catch in and expel the intruder.

Plants, when in bloom, have all their juices in the most perfect state; therefore cut all aromatic and medicinal herbs just as they begin to send up flowering stalks.

Profuse flowering exhausts the strength of plants; therefore remove all seed pods that are not especially desired for seed. Do this to all perennials, and you will have much finer blossoms the ensuing season.

_Saving of Seeds._

Though the gathering of seeds reminds us that the beauty of the flower is gone, it is a pleasing occupation, because it promises us pleasure for another year. As an usual thing it is better to depend upon the seedsmen for your supply, but if you have very fine flowers, choose two or three plants and pick off all the side buds, sending the whole strength of the plant into two or three blossoms at the most; frequently one is quite enough. Tie up the plants with colored yarn, so that no one will pick them; pull up all the single flowers that might mix with them, and you may be quite sure of saving good seed. Gather them on a dry day, when the seeds are thoroughly dry. Seeds preserved in the seed vessel are more clumsy to pack away than those which are cleaned, but they are said to keep fresher. When ready to sow them, clean them by passing them through sieves, having holes large enough to let the dust escape and retain the seeds. Small sieves can be made of a thin bit of pasteboard cut in a circular form, and the edges turned up, then pierce the bottom of it with holes made with a pin or a darning needle. Make several different sized sieves, and rub the seeds through the different ones.

A lady can make a small cabinet of pasteboard, with as many drawers in it as there are letters of the alphabet, and as she ties up the packets, each can be put into its corresponding drawer; or a paper bag with each letter of the alphabet marked upon it, can hold the seeds until desired for planting.

_Preparing Pots._

If new pots are used for any kind of seeds or plants, they should be soaked in water for a few hours, as they will otherwise suck away the moisture from the earth, and nothing is worse than to water seeds too often, or let them become dried up. All empty pots should be washed and cleaned before using again.

_Taking up and Preserving Flowers in Winter._

One is often in a great quandary to know what to do with large bushes of Geraniums, Roses, Feverfews, Heliotropes, etc., that have grown so finely all summer, and now the frost threatens to lay them low forever.

All the plants that have a woody nature, can be preserved in a dry, cool, perfectly dark cellar. Last autumn, I had a splendid bed of Zonale Geraniums--every color and hue, and some fifteen plants. What should I do with them? I could not bear to lose them forever! So I took a large box, and filled it with a light soil, and planted the roots in it, first cutting off all the tender branches, and leaving none over twelve or fifteen inches long; on these the leaves were left, but every blossom was cut away. The box was placed in a cold, damp, perfectly dark cellar, where potatoes never freeze; no water was given it the whole winter, and the first of May it was brought up with every root alive. The leaves had all fallen, and the stems were dead down three or more inches. I cut them back six inches, and bright leaves are now starting from every branch.

I live in the coldest climate in New England, where one has to fight for flowers or fruits. “Nine months of winter, and three months of spring,” describes the rigorous climate, and all Roses excepting the tender _Teas_, will live under sods. They are cut from the meadows or road sides early in November; then the bushes are carefully laid down; and the sods are placed over them grass side up. Last winter there was but little snow, but my roses kept finely. A large shovelful of manure was thrown around the roots before the branches were laid down. As the sods were being placed over the Roses, I laid a small piece over two Feverfews that grew near, and they are both alive. They will live out in milder climates, but are rarely known to do so in this frigid zone, under Mt. Washington’s shadow. Fuchsias and Heliotropes can be kept in boxes in the same manner. Also Oleanders, Sweet Verbenas, and nearly all flowers but Verbenas; they require light, heat and moisture to live.

Zonale Geraniums can be wintered in most cellars, if the earth is shaken from the roots, and they are tied up by them to the beams of the cellar. All blossoms should be cut off, or the sap that is in the branches will cause them to bloom, and thus rob the roots of the strength they need to live on through the winter. A damp cellar will cause them to decay. Scarlet Salvias can be kept in the same way.

Roses and Geraniums, etc., can be buried in trenches. Dig it two and a-half feet in depth, and where the water will not settle; lay in the plants, first throwing in a few shovelsful of dried leaves, or boards can be laid over the plants; fill in with sandy loam, and finish off with a ridge that will carry off the water. If the trench is lined with straw before the plants are laid in, they are less liable to decay. It is no use trying to make “window gardens” out of plants that have flowered all summer. They must have a season of rest, and they are only desirable for another summer after they have slept away the winter in the cool, dark cellar.

_Sleep of Flowers._

It is said that nearly all flowers sleep at night. The Marigold goes to sleep with the sun, and awakes at its bidding. The Dandelion shuts tightly its bright blossoms before nine in the evening, and does not fully open them until at six in the morning. The Daisy closes its flowers in the evening, and opens its “day’s eye” to meet the earliest beams of the rising sun. The Goat’s Beard wakes at three in the morning, and goes to sleep by five or six in the afternoon. The Crocus, Tulip and many others sleep peacefully at night. The Ivy-leaved Lettuce awakes at eight in the morn, and closes forever by four in the afternoon. The Night Blooming Cereus turns night into day; it expands its magnificent fragrant chalices in the twilight, is fully blown at midnight, and sleeps never to awake again at the dawn of the morning. In a Clover field, not a leaf opens until touched by the sun’s rays. An English florist has closely watched the habits of the flowers, and thus reports concerning them.

_Insects._

Insects abound in every month of the year, but they are especially annoying in Summer time. With the first warm days they appear in numbers, and cover the Roses, etc. Rain causes them to disappear, but a dry, east wind increases them. A small painter’s brush, dipped in quassia or aloes water, will brush them off and destroy them.

The caterpillars of many moths and butterflies are destructive in the garden, and one death in the Spring will save much warfare; so if you see one resting on a stem or leaf, with folded wings, it is probably a female and should be killed directly. If one is found dead on a plant, she has doubtless laid her eggs, and you must search for them underneath the leaves and burn them. A garden syringe or engine is the best weapon with which to wage warfare against both aphides and caterpillars. You must hold the pipe close to the plant, and pump hard, so as to bring a considerable stream upon it, and it will soon be free from them. Every time you use it, you should rake the earth away from under the plants, and trample upon the insects you have washed off.

Earwigs are very destructive insects. Their favorite food is the petals of roses, pinks, fuchsias, dahlias, etc. They eat at night, and in the daytime hide away in the dark vegetation. They can be caught by driving stakes into the ground and inverting a flower-pot directly over them, leaving just room for them to crawl under, and then look for and destroy them every morning.

Grubs on orchard trees and small fruits, will sometimes spoil the whole harvest; but if a bonfire is made with dry sticks and weeds on the windward side of the orchard, the smoke will blow among the trees and destroy hundreds, while the flames will attract many moths. Make the fire after nightfall.

Wasps destroy a quantity of fruit, and all that you can kill in the spring will save a swarm in the autumn. But be careful about letting them sting you, for the smart is severe. If stung, get out the blue-bag from the laundry, and rub it well into the sting, or cover the spot with soft soap, or liquid ammonia, to neutralize the acid of the poison. Saleratus wet and rubbed on the wound will also mitigate the pain.

Cherish the little black and red lady-bug, for it will destroy many green lice, or aphides. They are often to be found on the currant bushes, and I always catch them and give them a home among my roses and geraniums.

Toads are among the best friends that we can cultivate, so be sure to treat them with kindness. They may eat a few strawberries, but let them have that privilege in return for the immense quantities of insects they will also eat. If you can have none in your garden, it is well to seek for them in your walks, and bring them home, handling them carefully, for though they have no power to injure you, being perfectly harmless, you can easily kill them. I have a portly couple of them who live under my front door-step, and nightly come forth to feed upon my enemies--the noxious insects--eating bugs, grubs, moths, millipedes, and caterpillars.

Bees, of various kinds, are useful in spreading the pollen, so be sure to bid them welcome to all the hidden sweets your flowers contain.

_Cultivate the Beautiful._

“Flowers seem intended for the solace of ordinary humanity. Children love them; quiet, tender, contented, ordinary people love them as they grow; luxurious and disorderly people rejoice in them gathered. They are the cottager’s treasure, and, in the crowded town, mark, as with a little broken fragment of rainbow, the windows of the workers, in whose hearts rests the covenant of peace. To the child and the girl, to the peasant and manufacturing operative, to the grisette and the nun, the lover and the monk, they are precious always.” Thus writes Ruskin, the prose poet of the century.

The cultivation of “The Beautiful” should be the desire of every woman’s heart. Gœthe’s sentiment, “We should do our utmost to encourage the Beautiful, for the useful encourages itself,” should be our watchword. There are few women who do not take delight in flowers, and the object of this little book is to encourage them to cultivate them around and about their own homes, where their fragrance will delight every one that passes by them.

They speak to us of love and joy; of hope and peace; of humility and confidence; and also of bitter sorrow and grief--for they are associated with those who have passed away, and whose loss has darkened the horizon of our lives. They also teach us of the resurrection of the dead, and the life immortal that fadeth not away. They adorn the soldier’s grave; they circle the brow of loveliness; they crown the festive hall; they are everywhere, and are closely mingled with both joy and sorrow.

They are not a necessity to many of us; but they teach us to live nearer to God. Truly Mrs. Howitt writes of them:

“Our outward life requires them not, Then wherefore have they birth? To minister delight to man, To beautify the earth! To comfort man--to whisper hope, Where’er his faith is dim, For whoso careth for the flowers, Will much more care for Him!”

I truly pity those who cannot turn from the hurry of business with all its corroding cares, from the pomp of wealth, and the gay devices of fashion, and feast their senses and their souls upon the sight and perfume of a flower!

Far better to teach our daughters to cultivate roses on the cheeks, and in their gardens, to ornament their rooms with the fragrance and beauty of roses and lilies, and all the gorgeous sisterhood of flowers, than to make ruffles, and puffs, and plaits and endless puckers wherewith to adorn themselves. Children can easily be taught to love flowers, and the taste can never be used to deteriorate the character.

Linnæus, the renowned Swedish botanist, was the son of a poor country clergyman, who had a small flower-garden, in which he cultivated all the flowers which he could procure, and his means would permit.

From the earliest childhood he taught his son to love them, cultivate them, and rejoice with intense delight in their rich and varied colorings. In this way he created in him the tastes and desires which made him the first botanist and naturalist of his age.

FINIS.

Transcriber's Notes:

Italics are shown thus: _sloping_.

Bold type is thus: =strong=.

Variations in spelling and hyphenation are retained.

Perceived typographical errors have been changed.