THE CALL OF THE GARDEN.

New Zealand Herald, Volume XLV, Issue 13650, 18 January 1908, Page 1 (Supplement)

THE CALL OF THE GARDEN.

BY ALICE FERGUSON.

Exploeikg our widely-spread city, east and west and south and north, we notice, •with interest and pleasure, that every dwelling-house, except in the strictly business quarters, has a garden or the possibility of one. They are, for the most part, of small dimensions, but what they lack in individual size they make up for in numbers sufficient, I am sure, to entitle Auckland to be called "The City of Gardens." And are they not already much remarked upon by visitors from afar, as a distinctive feature of our town? So insistently do they, evidence the warm sua of Auckland, its moist air, and the industry and flower-loving tastes of its inhabitants.

Given the ground to garden, the human race seems to take to gardening as a duck to water. If there is anything in the j law of heredity that is just what it might be expected to do, since its first parents were the grand old gardener and his wife," who came into existence in the first and best of gardens. There may be — fact, I know there aresome people who say they don't care for gardening. My belief is that they have never tried it. Perhaps, poor things, they never have had a garden of their own. Perhaps, owning a garden, they have been prevented from experimenting with it by the pressure of necessary work and unnecessary pleasufes— not other pleasures really and truly unnecessary to those who may do their own gardening? Perhaps it may even be that they Lave resolutely refused to let the garden get a hold on them 'btjcavse, warned by some mysterious instinct, they know that, if it did, they are just the eort of persons to run gardening mad. They fear, perchance, that they would neglect their bread-winning labours to handle spade and hoc—that they would waste their substance in the acquisition of rare plants and seeds, and be quite, content to let their children come upon the State and their parents upon the Costley Home so long as they themselves could keep a p)ot of ground for the indulgence of their mania.

One can accept that, or almost anything else, as a reason why some people don't garden,' rather than believe it possible that the man or woman who has seriously tried gardening should not feci its fascination. Fascination that certainly must be named which mates minutes of the hours spent in attending to the garden's multiplex demands 011 its devotee's time, energy, and affection. Who that has not felt it can imagine the charm of weeding and hoeing when undertaken in the right spirit? of fiddling with cuttings and l&yerings, of repressing too forward and encouraging too backward growths? The expectant interest with which the dingy bulbs are buried for their resurrection in glorious guise; with which, in the due season, pinches of tiny, insignificant-look-ing seeds are sprinkled on the soft soil, each seed with, all the wonder and loveliness of leaf and flower packed in infinitesimal compass within it. Ah, who can put down in set phrases the allurement of the garden for those whose ears arc always open to its call? whether that call lie 1 to present work, in its midst, or to the enjoyment of the sweetness and beauty which are bo largely the results of past work done there.

. It. cannot be the love of flowers alone that eete people gardening, for be "who had of all men perhaps the deepest and most catholic passion for flowers, never cultivated any himself, but was content to let Nature garden the whole countryside for him as she chose. No doubt, the pleasure of being in the open air makes part of the pleasure of garden work; 'though the pleasure of being in the open air may be more keenly and consciously enjoyed in many other waysnotably on a mountain top, or on a. yacht cutting its way through the water with a, stiff breeze behind. As yet another component of tlie fascination of gardening, I would have suggested the desire for the work as work, only it would scarcely seem credible at a time when there never were so many feminine enthusiasts for the truly gentle art, and yet the wail of the. servant.loss mistress is loud in the land.

Still, even as tho male enthusiast, who labours for his daily bread in office or workshop, finds time to " see to" his beloved garden before lie leaves home in the morning or after he returns in the evening, so does his feminine counterpart, though she may have but her own pair of hands for the manifold duties of the household, contrive with that same pair of hands to make her garden a credit to her while suffering no reproach from her house and table. However does she do it? Well, I. don't believe she ever could do it if it were not for the Very Early Hours of the morning. We ail know of the existence of those Very' Early Hours, for we have read in books of their charm, times without number. But the most of us—-unless we happen to be milkmen or chimney-sweeps—are quite content to take the charm 011 trust as we do the beauties of the Vale of Cashmere.

But not so the amateur gardenei-s of both sexes.. Though it is not the charm of the very early hours of the summer morning, but the* call of the garden that, piercing the ivory gates of sleep, brings them out to' meet the milkman on the path. The impassioned appeal of the human lover to his mistress, " Come into the garden, Maud, for the black bat, Night, hath flown," had scarcely more constraining power than the call of the garden has tor its lover. Though it only comes dumbly through the open windows, in a. i subtly mixed perfume of dewy earth I and. grass and flowers, its lover straight- ! way arises and creeps stealthily out of the sleeping house, apparelled in raiment ancient and shabby—since it. is wisest not to dress as the Queen or King of Sheba when wooing* a garden. And, then, until there comes the call from the house to breakfast— possibly to make breakfast —the garden has its lover in thrall. Perhaps a glance may be spared to note with approval—but just as a nice backgroundthe view— there is any—bevond the gardeu, ending in the Waitakerei Hills, very distinctly featured in the slanting .sinoniing sunlight; or ending in the glittering harbour and gulf; or in merely blue, country distances. And there is always the unfathomable blue vault above that behind the veil of night renews its freshness and colour for each new day. But the unfathomable blue overhead is to enthusiastic gardeners only a charming canopy to their gardens and rarely noticed even when they stand up to ease their backs. The back wants easing frequently when one gardens. No doubt it comes of the curse laid upon Adam that, gardening does not permit of easy postures of the body. But who cares for a 'it-tie bodily inconvenience when they have entered, heart arid soul, into the business of bringing, tender young green things into the world, and of helping them to realise their best possibilities for the adornment of whatever station in vegetable life Providence has seen lit to call them to? Why, there are many old ladies from seventy to any age upwards, who, scorning the delights of lying late abed, live laborious mornings in their gardens' and count it pleasureBut it is absurd to call them old. Whatever their birth certificates may say, we know they can't be really old if they can do this thing. Then again, have.we not among our acquaintances, the too stout fathers and mothers of grown-up families, whose offspring have to go upon their knees to implore them not. to go upon their own hunting the wily slug iu the dewy eve? Sad is it to find those same parents often turning deaf cans to the filial prayers, and sallying forth quite, regardlees of the rheumatic cramps and aches waiting, in the shades of ■ evening, - to

pounce upon them, happy it onlv. it be given them to put in pickle a billjrftd of the enemies of their precious planthng?. The mighty host of amateur gardeners belong to all grades of knowledge and capability. Some, so to (speak, occupy the highest form in the secondary school of gardening; others are away down in the first standard of tho primary, while all the intermediate stages .ire fully represented. But even those who are only well-grounded in tho gardener's III", may produce' results not- to be ashamed ot. For Nature is very kind here in Auckland. The amount of -work there always is to bo done in a garden is surprising to amateurs. It seems to hive a never-failing knack of covering more than tho time they can give to it. If they manage to increase the time so as to meet- it*. demand):, nothing is availed. They find that the garden work, by some subtly ingenious process of its own, has increased it? demand* to be still ahead of t-iio inn-ease of time Perhaps some explanation of thus remarkable natural tact may lurk 111 flic unconscious tendency of enthusiasts to garden more and more intensively, especially if they are restricted from gardening extensively. I have in my mind's eye just now the. garden of a French lady. It. was of the tiniest, just two small plots. When bo season permitted they never failed to show as two woodless ovals of constant bloom, massed and radiant. But- all the

French lady's time, with casual bite ol her sister's thrown in, seemed to be usee up in contriving this pretty spectacle. So it would seem that, as far rs it i! a question of offering scope to the er.cr gies of the loving worker, it does do matter a great Be*l whether one's gardei is only two little plots of ground lik< the French lady's or the thirty acres se down by Bacon as the proper area fo the " prince-like garden" which lie plan, with .such nice particularity. Of course it- is understood tb.it. when the gardei is beyond a certain size, the garden-lovei just has to call in mercenary aidcasual if the size will permit, permanent if il won't. It may even he that it sometime! requires the multiplication of mercenary help. But, though you may be a<« lie) as Croesus—or, say. Rockefeller, as Ik rounds more modern —it is a great mistake, if you love your garden, to keep such a sufficiency of mercenary helpers that it uaeds no attention front youreelf. Youi knowledge of it, your attachment to it will assuredly grow less as does the mother's who lets a crowd of nurses and governesses supply her place with her child. Thank heaven, however, thorn are not many of us in New Zealand whose love of their gardens or children is likely tv wax cold through the ownership of an absolute sufficiency of paid labour citliei in the nursery or the garden! The pinch ing shoe, niethinks, is on the other foot. Where do the weeds come from in ac ordinary well-kept garden, I wonder? We are always putting into the ground tk»wei seeds and seedlings, and always pulling out weeds which never get a clviuco to seed. Yet, if the garden is left to itsell lor any considerable time, the wt.-,od<; ait ?noro in evidence than the ilowen*. One is tempted to explain this baffling mvsurj by supposing that some invisible Puck-like spirit of the air takes a.u impish delight in plaguing poor gardeners by sowing the weed soed broadcast under their verj noses. Far easier to deal with would lx the enemy of biblical reference who conlined to the night time his tare sowing among the -wheat! Really, the persistency of the weed's straggle for existence would fill us will admiration if only its existence did not fall foul of our views on garden-keeping. I think that same terrible persistency should inspire us sometimes with, a secret fear that we may be flying in the fact of Nature, outraging that groat law o: evolution, which deals with the surviva of the fittest, when we coax the floweri to live, and do all we can to prevent tin weeds from living. For don't wo knov quite well, were the weeds and Mowers ti strive for the possession of our garden with us out of th',s way, which " wonl< get it in the long run? which would provi themselves the fittest; to survive by sur riving? Oh/ the monstrous vitality of the dock Out off its head and it grows it agair like the hydra of elastic fable. Chop ii into .little bits and straightway every lit tie bit starts to set itself up as a "com plet-e dock plant. What chance, in com peting for existence, has the neces'sarj and succulent carrot, for instance, against a thing like that with nine times as main lives as a cat? Nature, certainly, tnkra no pains to hide her own preference foi the dock, and her calm disregard of mail's predilection for the; carrot. . Speaking of carrots naturally conjures up a vision of that -poor Cinderella,' tin vegetable garden, which is always kepi hidden away in the background while hoi gay sister, the flower garden, flaunts hoi beauty in front of everyone. The mtiw of Southey kindly lent 'herself to point out to an unseeing world the a?sthctk value of the pig. But, surely, without the aid of a poet, broad-minded lovers ol beauty may bring themselves to see the ornamental in the useful rows of beans, cauliflowers, onions, etc., that make (Ik vegetable garden. Perhaps the general lack of appreciation of the beauty of t-l« vegetable garden lies in the associatior of ideas. ']*he brilliant hue of the tomak "out-reddens all voluptuous garden roses.' But-, just because the tomato's strongest appeal ie to the palate and not to the eye and nose, where shall we ever fiud the gal hint lover singing of his lady, "Oh, love is like a. red, reel tomato It, wouic seem that, deep down in our minds, we must be a, little ashamed of having palates But, despite the general tendency ti throw a. slight veil of reserve over the existence of the vegetable garden, to pa radc it only before the intimates of tin household, it is an actual tact, that vegetable gardeners of both sexes take pride themselves in their achievements. Apparently subdued to what they work in,' they do not hesitate, almost in any company, to brag of their -cabbages and parsnips— as openly as if tlicv were the biggest and curliest of chrysanthemums, or the latest invention in cact-is dahlias.' But, their conduct is really quite natural and excusable, though exclusive flower gardeners may criticise it adversely. You see, tlie kitty's roses are to the other's cabbages as the furnishings of the draw-ing-room to the kitchen's.. After all, the common'esteem of the flower and discsteam of the vegetable from ail aesthetic point of view may have a deeper psychological meaning than we arc apt to think. The vegetable's ap peal is comparatively coarse and limitedit is merely to the palate. It so obvioush proclaims that its sole mission in lift;-—-from mans point of view—is to be eaten, But. the flower? What is the flower'; mission to man Ah, that opens ui vague vistas of thought that seem U. stretch away into infinitv! Yes, of course, it may primarily delight his' eyes ami his nose, but how much dee per than his senses may it not reach into him? " Everv- , tiling good and sweet seems to come out of flowers, up to the very highest though!.* of the soul.' says Richard Jetferies. And another ardent flower lover. * great poet he. thus, apostrophises a tiny blossom picked out of the cranuies of a wall: — Tattle flower—but, if I could understand What vou are. root and all, and all in ail. I should know what God and man ii. So when the sweet call of the garden brings .you out of the house to see how well and happy t.lie flowers are looking, and you linger to enjoy them, or to do f them some pleasant little service—to bring back within bounds a truant length of ! creeper, or to relieve the carnations or | the cyclamens of their dead blooms—do not think the time so spent wasted. If you open your mind to them, if you try, however unconsciously, to get at theninner meaning, the flowers will give you "long, long thoughts" and happy feelings.