Part 36

"I am sure I wish to be practical. I wish for nothing better," he exclaimed energetically.

"Then do finish that row of polyanthuses," I said, looking up with a forgiving smile.

"The first sensible word either of you have spoken for the last five minutes," remarked Jim, with decision. "The way you two palaver while I go steady ahead!"

But the Young Man interpreted my smile in his own way and went on cheerfully, "That's all right, then. Now, Jim, look to your laurels; these plantlets are going in with a rush!"

Weeks after, when contemplating the neat, regular little roots, my thoughts went back, as thoughts will, to the conversation attached to them, and I wondered what he meant by its being "all right." I had never felt anything was wrong. Words are such clumsy mediums, and sometimes even thoughts are too definite. There is a kind of inner consciousness, vague and mystical, full of colour and sensation, but without form or sound, and I think women develop it more strongly than men.

The Young Man has a very definite character. His energy next took the form of a large hamper of plants from his mother's garden, a godsend for that half-empty, long border.

And my conscience, growing with my garden, I suppose, found a safety-valve in ornamenting the window boxes of the Young Man's sitting-room, lately filled with Mrs Jones's screen of geraniums, with some spare bulbs. I do think they will look rather nice, but his gratitude was quite absurd, for really Jim did most of the work.

* * * * *

I am aware that to form a proper herbaceous border you should have a colour scheme, or rather several colour schemes, in your mind's eye from the very beginning. This is a counsel of perfection to which I humbly hope I may some day attain. I confess to being still at the stage where all flowers, all colours, and plenty of everything holds great attraction for me. But, Ignoramus as I am, I do not want disorder to reign; one must at least grasp the height and the flowering time of each plant, and strive after a succession of bloom fairly well represented over all the border and all the months. I thought therefore of my background, the tall varieties; my middle distance of less exalted growth, and my foreground of humble height. And then I took a large sheet of paper and drew on it a long border with three divisions, and proceeded to fill in these divisions with what flowers I already had planted, and others yet to come.

Then I tried to imagine the plants in bloom, and what colours would look well next each other, and how to repeat them as the eye follows the length of the border.

In early spring, as in late autumn, yellow is the most prevalent colour; but in spring the yellow mixed with all the budding green has a most bright and young appearance. It is the sunrise, the promise of the day that is to be; whereas in autumn, with the rich tints of departing glory surrounding it, the suggestion is of "mellow fruitfulness."

The yellow doronicum in the middle distance will probably be the first to break the greenness of the herbaceous border, unless there are clumps of daffodils hidden, but I think the border may be full enough without them, and they can be massed in so many places unfit for border plants. Patches of polyanthus and even snowy London pride are useful at that early season, and can be placed near the edge. I saw one lovely effect, but cannot myself undertake to repeat it; it would answer better in a more favoured garden. Instead of the usual box edging the whole length of the border was given to violets, and a delightful purple line as well as delicious scent was the result. It needs more care than the trim box, but the close green leaves form a very effective edging after the flowers have departed. The "bleeding heart" should follow the doronicum very quickly, it also belongs to the middle division; but the colour scheme is still mostly green, with just these occasional breaks.

Then the paper border was quickly filled with a bright procession for June and July. At the back delphiniums in numerous successive clumps and all degrees of blue; valerian, several of the strong little roots placed together to form a good show of delightful rosy red blossoms. Foxgloves should rear their effective spotted heads between, and later on lilies--Madonna's white and tiger's yellow--would take their place. Lupins were also in this division, but a little more forward, each division naturally sub-dividing itself into tall and taller. Galega, both white and mauve, were to grow here, but hollyhocks well at the back. The sunflower also, soleil d'or, with the thought of the annual variety to follow in spring, and therefore a space to be left. The smaller kind I kept for the middle division; it is a useful, neat little bush, rigidus by name, and cost me sixpence a plant. Spiræa, a strong, herbaceous variety, should come as a kind of break to the regularity; it should grow so bushy and tall that it must be given two divisions in which to expand. The phlox must be placed at the back, also the hardy white daisy, several old plants of which had weathered Griggs's reign; also the bright and useful golden rod, and some welcome clumps of Japanese anemones. My friends dealt in larger clumps than the mercenary florist, I found. We left a good space here and there for the dahlias, and thus my background seemed fairly full.

I considered the iris roots for some time, and then determined to give the German variety a place all to themselves. Strained political relations had nothing to do with my decision, but when not on show the knife-like leaves and twisting roots are not particularly pleasing; so, before his Reverence could forbid, I had my iris row down a side border. The kitchen garden is cut by a most convenient number of paths, and Griggs has no objection to my taking from his space.

Then for the middle division I had some of my nurslings ready. More oriental poppies, in groups of three for the present; campanulas, also in threes, but with room for each one to expand; penstemons, but these were cuttings that had been given me, and though promised a place here they were kept for their first winter in the frame and only figured on my paper border. Gaillardias, most promising plants, which even in this their first year had given me one or two of their "effective" blooms, were placed singly; my small and not very satisfactory chrysanthemums were moved forward from the background, where they had been hidden. Michaelmas daisies also were in this division, and my Canterbury-bells and sweet-Williams, though they were not to be permanent plants, and might come out year by year when their duty was done. The doronicums were there and the bleeding heart, and old Lovell's two Turks' heads in sturdy independence, and I added a few clumps of crown imperials. Coreopsis, at five shillings a dozen, joined the show, and montbresias, those that were over from my new border, and in time gladiolas also I hoped, but I had to remember my limitations.

In front came groups of columbines and Iceland poppy, the small roots of campanula, the geum already there; and I collected from its scattered hiding-places all the Solomon's seal I could find, and grouped it behind the geums, for I noticed how well those two bore each other company. A few patches of Japanese irises I allowed myself, and again I tried the anemones. Neat labels marked the burying-places of those things that prefer to pass the winter with their heads underground.

I think that border, in spite of its many disadvantages, ought to make something of a show, not only on paper.

There are other things I hope to have in time for this my old-fashioned border. There is honesty, almost nicer in sound than in reality; and lavender must come here, or where will be the old fashion? Also the "Saracen-head thumping balls" of the purple thistle, and the blue-green sea-holly. Tritoma, called in the vulgar tongue "red poker," ought to have a place in the background. Then rocket, purple and white, is a neat, spikey little plant that should be represented, and I have no doubt that I shall be introduced to many more. If I love them at all, and if they can become at all reconciled to my soil, they shall find a home here.

Of course, with so many alterations to be made, and so many new-comers to be welcomed, I had again to break all rules and regulations belonging to a herbaceous border. Griggs and a spade, fatal things both of them, had to be tolerated, and roots disturbed, for in the spring my arrangements had been very happy-go-lucky. Now, armed with a certain amount of information, I hoped to settle things more permanently.

But when the length and depth of that border had been worked I felt that my life's task was finished, and I never went near it for three whole days.

* * * * *

My one and only frame presented a more cheering appearance than it had done the year before. It was a capacious frame, and possessed means for heating. This was often Griggs's one duty in the winter, and a grand excuse for not chopping wood. In the summer and autumn time an ignorant gardener can always account for himself with unnecessary lawn-mowing and diligent sweeping up of leaves that are instantly replaced by others; in the winter, unless snow provides a little gentle exercise, he is sore put to it to fill up his hours with a show of use. Thus the frame with its stoke-hole was a boon to Griggs, and I felt that I too should be much interested in its welfare this winter. For in their winter quarters were my hundred deep red "Henry Jacobys" and sundry other geranium cuttings far removed from Griggs's former favourites. Square wooden boxes held my young penstemons, a nice lot of tiny sprigs from the bluest of the lobelias, and three varieties of antirrhinum, also cuttings of yellow daisies and white. I was trying if cuttings from the not-successful violas would make better plants than those grown from seed, so there was one box devoted to these. A few pots held hyacinth bulbs and tulips, some choice arrangements that were to astonish the Others, coming in a time of dire scarcity.

Griggs looked in with something like pride gleaming in his old eyes. He always talked of "moi frame" and what he would allow me to put there. But we had no ructions, and I must only guard against his pride overflowing in too much water.

* * * * *

One day I took his Reverence's arm and led him round the garden. I steered him past the plantains, for he loves prodding at their stubborn roots, and I wanted his whole attention. I pointed out the present, I referred gracefully to the past, and I dilated on the future. "Now, sir, the year is nearly up, say, 'how has the garden grown?'"

"Grown! Why, you wicked girl! I believe you have prigged yet another border!"

"Oh! for those irises! Yes. I wasn't talking about that little path and that little border: they will look very nice there by-and-by. I was talking of the flowers."

And I led him away from that unlucky path and fixed him opposite my legitimate and much-developed border.