LIBRARY
THE UNIVERSITY
OF CALIFORNIA
SANTA BARBARA
PRESENTED BY
MR. GEORGE COBB
OUR COUNTRY HOME
fc
K
ffi
HOW WE TRANSFORMED A WISCONSIN
WOODLAND
BY
FRANCES KINSLEY Hl'TCI-HNSON
WITH .\r.\Ri.Y r\vn //r.v /;/,-/;/) ILI.CSTRATIOXS F
rfi(>T<><;i t >M>iis ay Tin-: .\rrnotf
CHICAGO
A. C. MH'LrKG ^ CO.
1907
COPYRIGHT
A. C. McCLURo & ( '(>.
1907
Published (H-tolx-i- ,'ii. UNIT
[ The illustrations in this volume are all from photographs
by the author, except the full-pane views, which are by-
Henry Fuermann. the two bird pictures on page 227, by Irene
(irosvenor Wheelock. and the plate on page 2(>7, which is by
Sara Holm.J
Cfi* latusitif \3ttsa
R. R. DONNELLEY & SONS COMPANY
CHICAGO
TO
J. &.
WHOSK INSPIRATION AND EM OLKAliKMKNT
BROUGHT FORTH
THIS RKCITAL OK OUR F.XPERIKNCKS
The happiest heart that ever beat
II \ts in some quiet breast
That found the common d'Ayli^ht sicect,
And left to } leaven the rest"
J. V. C.
CONTEXTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I. How IT HAPPENED ...... 1
II. WHAT WE DID FIRST ... .16
III. FROM NOVEMBER TO MAY ... .33
IV. THE TERRACES ..... 47
V. THE WOODSHED . . ... 64
VI. THE KITCHEX-GAHDI \ . . 79
VII. THE FORMAL GARDEN 93
VIII. THE PERGOLA ... . 107
IX. THE GK.VVKL PIT . . 125
X. OF SHUT-US . . 138
. XI. OF VOTES . . .161
XII. OF WILD FLOWERS . 179
XIII. OUR NEAREST NEIGHBORS . 193
XIV. A LINK v DAY. . 21 4
XV. WEEDS FOR DECORATION* . , . 239
XVI. CONTUSION . 256
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
DECORATIVE HEADING
THE ENTRANCE AT THE KAST
TITLE-PAGE DECORATIOX
DECORATIVE HEADING
DECORATIVE HEADING
HEADPIECE TO CHAPTER I .
A LOVELY TANGLE
IT LED us TO TH E WATER 's E DG E
A LONG LAKE AVITH DEEPLY DENTED SHORES
FLOATING OVER ITS GLASSY SURFACE
A FRIENDLY BIT OF WATER
ITS MIRROR-LIKE REFLECTIONS
THE WILD GRAPE DRAPED THE WOOD .
TAILPIECE TO CHAPTER I .
HEADPIECE TO CHAPTER II
LOOKING OVER THE LAND .
Tin: MAN OK MANY MAPS EXPLAINS
THE LITTLE MUSHROOM-LIKE PUMP HOUSE
THE TREES Go DOWN ONE BY ONE .
THE DRAINS CONCEALED BY BOULDERS
THE LITTLE COTTAGE
THE NATURAL ROADS AFTER THE SPRING RAINS
THE "UNNATURAL" ROADS
TAILPIECE TO CHAPTER II . .
HEADPIECE TO CHAPTER III
Front if pic
1
S
.->
5
9
9
18
IS
15
16
19
19
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
I'AGF.
35
THK FIRST I PKIGIITS
PUTTING ON THI-: PKBKLK-DASH
THE DtMNG-HOOM
THE Love; GAI.I. 1:1:1
l"p<i vi us PORCH. FIHST YKAK .
IP-PAIRS PORCH. THIHD YKAK
TAILPIECE TO CHAPTKH III
HEADPIECE TO CHAPTKK IV
Tin: DOG-TROT IN OCTOBER
THK SWEET-SCENTED FLOWERS OF THK WHITE JASMINE
Tin; HorsK AFTER Two YKARS .
NORTH TERRACE. FIRST YK AH
NORTH TERRACE. THIRD YEAH
A BED OF NATIVE FERNS
A HAPPY CORNER
THE OUT-OF-DOORS DINING ROOM
THE SUET-TREE AND BIRD BATH
TAILPIECE TO CHAPTER IV.
HEADPIECE TO CHAPTER V
A SM vi.i. LEAN-TO
THK KITCHEN DOORWAY .
THE BERRY GARDEN
]\ THE OVAL. WHERE THK SERVICE Ro.VI) TfRNED. AV K PLANTED
ROSES .
THE SERVICE- YARD WALL .
OVR BOYISH VISITORS
THE HANDY WAGON .
THE ROADWAY LEADING THROUGH THE WOODSHED
THE INTERIOR OF THE WOODSHED . " >
TAILPIECE TO CHAPTER V .
HEADPIECE TO CHAPTER VI
THE OLD FENCE *"
PATH FROM PERGOLA TO KITCHKN-GARDKN ... tfl
ARTICHOKES HEFORE THE TOMATO TRELLIS . . S3
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
THE LILAC-FRAMED GATEWAY . .....
ALL READY TO Pur Our . ... .87
THE FAIR EXHIBITS . ... .87
THOSE PROUDLY ANNOUNCED FIRST PEAS . . . . .89
TAILPIECE TO CHAPTER VI ... .92
HEADPIECE TO CHAPTER VII . ... .93
THE FORMAL GARDEX. FIRST STAGE ...... 9,5
THE BARBERRY HEDGE . ... .9.5
JUST OUTSIDE THE FORMAL GARDEN .... .99
FROM MY WINDOW . .... .99
IN WINTER COSTUME ...... 10.'}
LOXG STRANDS OF WOODBINE ..... . 103
TAILPIECE TO CHAPTER VII ...... 10(5
HEADPIECE TO CHAPTER VIII ....... 107
THE PERGOLA IN WIXTER . ...... 109
A MEANS OF PROTECTION . ..... 109
THE WOODSY SIDE OF THE PERGOLA . . . . . .ill
THE DOOR TO THE LAUNDRY YARD . . . . . .11.'}
THE LAUNDRY YARD. ...... 113
THE BALTIMORE BELLE . . . . 117
THE ROOF IN OCTOBER . . .117
THE PERGOLA BROADENS INTO v SQUARE TEA-HOUSE . . 121
AT ONE END is A SMALL WALL FOUXTAIN . . . . HI
TAILPIECE TO CHAPTER VIII .... 124
HEADPIECE TO CHAPTER IX ....... 12.5
IN AND Our OF THE GRASSY HOLLOWS ... . 127
THE IRIS GLADE . . ... .127
WHERE THE BROOK MAKES A SIDDKN TURN .... 131
THI: LAND GRADED IN A GENTLE SWEEP ..... 131
THE CYCLONE-LIKE EFFECT ....... 134
HTGE BOULDERS WERE PLACED ...... 13.5
THE GRAVEL PIT FINISHED ....... 13;5
TAILPIECE TO CHAPTER IX ....... 137
HEADPIECE TO CHAPTER X. . 138
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
I'AGF.
ENCLOSED THK HOUSE SITK WITH A FENCE . . 139
THK SHRUBBERY . . 139
MOSTLY LABKI.S . 141
A TRACERY OF BRAMBLES 143
THK SEA BUCKTHORN . 143
Tin: BKIDAL WREATH . . 147
THE GROUNDSEL Br.su . . . 147
Vim KNUM LANTANOIDES OK ALNIFOLIUM . . . 151
VIBI KM M LENTAGO . . . 151
SHRUBBERY EDGING THE LAWN . . 153
THE SHORE PATH THE FIK.ST YEAR . . 155
THE SHORE PATH THE THIRD YEAR . . . 155
TAILPIECE TO CHAPTER X . . 153
SHUTTIXG ix THE LAWX FROM THE ROADWAY BELOW . . 159
HEADPIECE TO CHAPTER XI . .161
THE RUSTIC TEA-HOUSE . . . 162
THE WILD GRAPE ix TAXGLED MASSES . .163
THE SMOOTH-LEAVED HONEYSUCKLE ... 163
THE KUDZC ix THE MIDDLE OF MAY .... 167
THE KUDZU ix SEPTEMBER ..... 167
THE HOUSE FROM THE LAKE ... 171
THE AKEBIA QUINATA IN DECEMBER . . . . .175
THE WOODBIXE .... 175
TAILPIECE TO CHAPTER XI .. .178
HEADPIECE TO CHAPTER XII . . 179
PIXK LADY'S-SLIPPER . . 181
GlAXT SoLOMOx's SEAL . . 11
THE SPIKED LOOSESTRIFE ... 184
THE SPIKEXARD ie 7
lo /
BERRIES BELOVED BY ALL THE BIRDS . 187
NEW EXGLAND ASTERS BY THE SHORE PATH 191
TAILPIECE TO CHAPTER XII 192
HEADPIECE TO CHAPTER XIII . . 193
HE HEARS A SOUXD OF DANGER .
L J S T OF I L L U S T R A T IONS
PAGK
INTENDING TO CARRY AWAY EVERY MIT OK FOOD i\ SKJHT . . 195
THE EXPANSIBLE POUCHES . 19!)
HAVING HIS BREAKFAST . . 19!)
PERFECTLY AT HOME . . 1!)!)
TIRELESS AND SINGLE-MINDED .... . 199
HAVING HIS PICTURE TAKEN ... . . 203
BOB AT BREAKFAST ..... . 203
THE CHIPPY is COMING . . 20?
THE SOUTH TEURACE WALL .... 207
THE GOLD-FISHES' HOME ... ... 21 1
TAILPIECE TO CHAPTER XIII . 21.'!
HEADPIECE TO CHAPTER XIV . .214
THE ROBINS' NEST IN BITTKR-SWEET TANGLE . . -215
THE ROBINS' ARAUCARIA . . . 217
THE BIRD BATH 219
THE BIRD BATH IN EARLY SPRING . . 21!)
WAITING FOR THE HUMMING BIRDS TO FLY ..... 222
THE THRUSHES NEST IN THE T.VXGLE ... . 224
MASTER WAXWING AND HIS NEST ...... 227
THE FLICKER . . 227
THE HOUSE FROM THE LAWN . . 231
THE DOWNY WOODPECKER'S WINTER NEST .... 235
SHOWING ITS DEPTH ... . ... 235
TAILPIECE TO CHAPTER XIV ....... 238
HEADPIECE TO CHAPTER XV ....... 239
Ft LLY EQUIPPED FOR ANY TASK . . . . . .241
A VASE OF WILD CARROT . ..... 241
WINDOW Box FROM INSIDE . .... 245
WINDOW Box FILLED WITH SEED-PODS .... 245
GREAT FEATHERY HEADS OF GOLDEN-ROD .... 247
THE VARIETY OF TREE FORMS . . . 249
THE HALLIANA HONEYSUCKLE IN DECEMBKR .... 249
THE INDIAN CURRANT . ~ . 251
THE FERN-BOX FILLED WITH SEED PODS . 253
L I S T OF ILLUSTRATIONS
PAGE
A MOKMM; i.\ JAXTARY ........ 253
TAII.IMK< i; TO CIIAITER XV . . . . . . . 255
HEADPIECE TO CHAPTER XVI ....... 256
THE G ATK-POST ....... 257
Tin: (lUEEXnorsE . ....... 259
THK LKAF CAHT .... ... 259
BI;I\(;I.\G i.\ HHAXCUKS ........ 263
THE MAXCHI-HIAX CHERRY ....... 263
AT DISK . 2(i7
TAILPIECE TO CHAPTER XVI .... . 270
xvi
OUR COUNTRY HOME
CHAPTER I.
HOW IT HAPPENED.
THERE were once two people who supposed that they had
lived a happy life. To be sure, the Man Had Always Wanted
a Farm, and the Woman Had Never Wanted a Country House;
but they had jogged along in comfortable and contented fashion
for years and years until that fateful moment when they walked
one day in a forest. They had walked in many forests in many
lands : they had looked down the endless avenues of the Bois and
Foiitainebleau ; they had seen the sunset through the pines of
Ravenna, and rejoiced in the villas of Frascati; they knew the stiff
OUR CO U N T R Y HOME
Florentine cypresses, and the latomise of Syracuse; they had wan-
dered in the thickly covered hills of the Danube valley, and
admired the great timber of the Vosges and the Pyrenees; even
the jungles of Ceylon and the cryptomerias of Nikko were not
unknown to them.
But this was different. This was a real American forest, one
might almost say a New England forest, with huge towering oaks
and wide-girthed maples, tall butternuts and walnuts and hick-
ories, leaning lindens and an occasional elm, even the slippery
elm, whose pungent odor brought many a thought of childhood's
curious tastes. The hawthorn and the ironwood, the white ash,
with here and there a birch, the bitternut and wild cherry, the
delicate swaying shad-bush, the prickly thorn-apple tree and the
hazel brush, the wild gooseberry and puckery choke-cherry, a
lovely tangle, led them on; while in the open spaces the black-
eyed Susans held merry converse with their swains, the Joe Pye
weeds, and overhead birds were swinging and squirrels leaping
from branch to branch.
Beneath their feet the leaf-mould lay, inches deep on the warm
moist earth; just beyond, brown shadows fell, where long ago a
lofty tree had sunk its full length on the ground, until the seasons'
constant change had made a springy, spongy mass where bright -
hued mushrooms found a home and mossy tendrils fluttered low.
While wandering there in sheer delight, feasting their senses
on the wild, a sudden turn brought them face to face with a
HOW IT HAPPENED
weather-worn and dilapidated piece of board. What sent that
electric thrill through the man to his mate ? What was it caused
that look of understanding? Unconsciously their hands clasped.
A LOVELY TANGLE
simultaneously they breathed, " Could we ? " For the board bore
the heaven-sent legend :
"FOR SALE"
All thoughts of crops and pastures fled from the man's mind.
An inborn love for the things that grow overcame the woman's
caution, any fancied increase in care or trouble faded before this
marvellous possibility, and that moment was the beginning of their
joyous experiment with the Wisconsin woodland.
OUR C O U X T R Y HOME
It seems an incredible thing now as I look back, to think I
\\ ;i> once that narrow and ignorant and prejudiced Person Who Did
Not Want a Country House. Perhaps during all those obstinate
years, my lucky star kept me from falling into suburban temptations
and free from farming entanglements. I know one thought was
always uppermost in our minds, even before the If was exchanged
for the When, in discussing this great and to us momentous
undertaking. The woods, the Virgin Forest, must never be dis-
turbed, not one brown leaf should be taken from its rich covering,
not one weak seedling should be denied its growth, but just as we
found it, in all its natural beauty, so it should remain.
It almost seemed as if this particular bit of wild land in the
midst of farms and clearings, on the shores of a beautiful lake, had
been especially preserved during all those fallow years for our
gratification, at least what harm if we thought so ? No sheep
or cattle had ever browsed there, the bent-down young sapling of
the Indian trail was still visible, the concave boulder where the
women once ground their corn lay only half buried in the ground.
In mossy hollows stood stiffly the moccasin flower, and the curi-
ous squaw-root grew close to the Indian pipe.
Last to blossom of all the flowers, we found the strange wych-
hazel. It met us just within the gate, it followed with its wands of
gold our wanderings in burry glens, it led us to the water's edge.
The old myth came into my mind: " Wherever points the hazel-
rod, there dig, for water ye shall find. " We did not have to even
IT LED US TO THE AVATEK S EDGE
A LONG LAKE WITH DEEPLY DENTED SHORES
HOW IT HAPPENED
dig, for water indeed was here, in alluring expanse spread out
before us. What was there about that particular little lake which
so captivated us ? Why was it that after looking at and admiring
the innumerable small lakes with which our woodland State is
dotted, we always returned to this one with a sigh of content ?
It was a friendly bit of water, with friendly fish in its cool depths
only waiting to be caught, black bass and perch and pickerel;
a lake just big enough to temper the hot prairie winds of mid-
summer and to reflect its thunder-caps and brilliant sunsets, a
long lake with deeply dented shores that sloped into its shining
waters so that every pretty point had the coolest breezes and the
most extended view ! But where was its peculiar charm ? To be
sure it had the feminine quality of changefulness : it was never twice
alike. Did our imagination, even then, leap to its cool touch on
August mornings and show us its mirror-like reflections on still
September dawns? Did its refreshing breezes tell us of the won-
drous moonlit nights before us ? those nights, yes, they must have
held the secret, the last exquisite touch. Surely nowhere else
did the shimmering water dance under the golden rays in so glad-
some ;i fashion. Floating over its glassy surface, down those paths
of light, suspended between earth and sky, a sweet voice making
melody and all one's senses lulled to rest, could happiness go
further ?
Let us make haste, then, to build us this home in the woodland,
a small and simple abode where the birds may nest close to our
R ( O U N T R V H O M E
\vimlo\vs. We will have grass-grown roads leading to it, and wind-
ing paths: hut all about us, it shall remain a wilderness. If the
great folds of the wild grape fall to the ground, another wild grape
shall begin to twine with clinging tendrils over the low bushes, up
tin- Npre.iding branches, until it can wave its arras in triumph from
the top of the tallest tree. If one of the great oaks die, an acorn
shall drop in the ground at its feet; and if we should not sit in its
shade, it will be for some one a happv retreat. So can we build
for the future and think of the pleasures which others may know;
perhaps some reflection may fall upon us and add to our joy in the
work which we do.
This shall be our home and our refuge and a refuge for our
friends. Can life ever grow monotonous, or the days bore us, with
such wonders unfolding before our newly opened eyes ? To have
a new sensation of genuine pleasure when one has passed the for-
tieth milestone is something not to be despised, and here was a
whole world of new sensations, a daily new discovery to feast upon.
To take possession of the sunrises and the starlit nights, to feel the
earth full of promise beneath one, to say to each winged creature
and trembling being, "You are my brother and my sister, let us
enjoy all this together! " - what a heavenly outlook!
Said a new neighbor to us one day, "I do not want to
complete my place this summer, I want something left to keep my
husband interested another year."
" You need not imagine, my dear inexperienced friend, that you
KIX)ATING OVKH ITS (iI.AS.SV SI HI ACK
A 1 HIl.XDl.Y BIT OF WATER
HOW IT II A P P E N E D
can ever really finish a country place," replied the Constant Im-
prover, for so was re-christened The Man Who Had Always
Wanted a Farm. "That is one of its greatest charms. There is
always something new to make, to build, to do."
And the Constant Improver unconsciously tossed hack his head
and his eyes flashed at the joyous prospect.
Is it possible to live among the wonders of this wilderness and
not desire to know something about them ? Think of the enormous
variety of leaf-shapes to learn, the changing seasons' flowers to
name, the fruits and berries to classify, the Avild life from humming-
bird to crow, from the muskrat on the shore to the squirrel in the
wood. Think of the mushrooms, with their uselessly complicated
nomenclature, and the butterflies, the stinging family, the beetles
and the ants, the caterpillars and grubs innumerable. Has not
many an eminent man spent a lifetime on the study of a single
part of this natural world ? Here was the opportunity, a wide field
spread before us.
That first September, when the wild grape draped the wood
with its huge brown winding cables, its tangle of twisted tendrils,
and its clusters of puckery fruit, we wandered often in the forest,
searching each ferny glen and wondering at the succession of pic-
tures that at every turn met our ignorant eyes. How interesting
it would be to find out what Indians had lived in this region, what
they called it, and, if possible, use that name for our home! We
found out easily enough that it was the Pottawattomies who, not
11
OUR CO U X T R Y HOME
longer than fiftv years before, had moved northward and settled in
a reservation near the Red River. So the word must be in the Pot-
ta wattomie dialect. Now what did they call this settlement ?
That too was soon discovered. Any one of the old inhabitants
could tell us that. It was called '' Donklauk," which, although not
the real name, is near enough for all euphonic purposes, and
we feared it would not do. Then we said, we will perpetuate the
memory of our lovely walks in the woods and will call it " The
Home of the Wild Grape " in Potta wattomie. When we proposed
to send to Washington to the Smithsonian Institution, for this
Indian translation, it was suggested that we had better enclose a
list of names to choose from. Evidently this person had had some
experience in translations, so we added, "The Restful Place,"
"The Home in the Woods," " Where Peace Reigns," and the like.
It was in eager haste that we opened the official-looking docu-
ment when it came some months later, and read the curious list
from the Miami, Potta wattomie, and Ojibway dialects:
Kapawick . . . Shrubbery.
Wapinipi . . . White water.
Chilakange . . In the thicket.
Tawanong . . . Tree place.
Shipakwong . . Leafy place.
Winakwong . . Forest.
Endaian . . . My home.
Nuashmanek . . Resting place.
1-2
ft
ITS MIRROR-LIKE REFLECTIONS
THE WILD GRAPE DRAPED THE WOOD
HOW IT HAPPENED
Nuashmanek! how pretty it looked, but how baldly sanitary
it sounded to our too civilized senses! No, the old Indian tribes
should be remembered in our hearts but not on our writing paper;
the wild grape with its honey-sweet blossoms, '' the subtlest,
most evanescent of all sweet odors," should twine about our woods
and our arbors ; but for our name we must go farther afield.
Leaving this subject to some future inspiration, we continued
our gladsome planning. We will not only preserve what is now
here, we said to each other, but we will bring here every wild
flower that will grow; in the open spaces beside the water where
the birds love to congregate, we will make a berry garden for their
use alone, so that from May on through the whole long summer,
and until Christmas-tide, a feast may be spread for them. We will
tempt the shy creatures of the wood to our doors. No enemy shall
be here to frighten them, but always food and drink and a hearty
welcome. This shall be our Happiness and our Life Play.
CHAPTER II.
WHAT WE DID FIRST.
IT was August when first we wandered in our garden of delight.
By November we had become the proud possessors of seventy-
two acres of rolling woodland which, from the high road some one
hundred and seventy feet above the level of the lake, sloped down in
all sorts of unexpected hills and hollows to the shore, three-quarters
of a mile away. Here a narrow strip of land covered with old trees
jutted into the water, partially enclosing a shallow bay. The former
owner, about twenty-five years before, had conceived the idea of
filling in this bay, and so had dumped huge stumps there, with two-
inch planks set on edge to keep the rich soil from breaking into the
water. The Man of Many Maps said, '" Here is where our work
begins, " and unveiled to us the possibilities of pebbly beach and
wild-rose bordered shore, where now the iris blossoms and pink
lythrums are reflected in the clear cold water.
To a beginner in country life it seemed a formidable undertaking
to evolve from a perfectly wild piece of woodland a house and a
garden; so in order that no time should be wasted, fre consulted
at once The Man of Many Maps, who first divided the land into
16
W HAT WE DID FIRST
two parts: the woods, which were to be left untouched, except
for a roadway opening through them; and the part bordering on
the lake, which was to be made habitable. Of this second part,
about eight hundred and forty feet square, a detailed chart was made
showing all contours and indicating all trees over six inches in diam-
eter. After discussion among the Inevitable Trio, the Land-
scape Gardener, the Architect, and the Owner, there was sub-
mitted for our approval a plan of work carrying out the idea of a
wild-woods home, installing a water and drainage system, opening
vistas and spaces necessary for light and air, locating paths and
roads, kitchen gardens and flower gardens, and the lawn, besides
providing building sites for cottage, stable, and woodshed, and the
ultimate home.
Here was a plan to work with, and we could do as much or as
little as we pleased, taking two years or ten, provided that all we did
should be a part of a general scheme; then nothing would have to be
done over. I think that is why people exclaimed at the apparent
oldness of the place after we had lived there only four years; to
be sure, the soil was exceedingly rich, we had plenty of water,
and we planted only hardy things.
It was a dull dark day in September when we chose the site for
the big house, the centre upon which all the planting must depend.
A strong string was drawn from tree to tree the whole length of the
proposed front terrace; on this were pinned newspapers, and we
wandered off in different directions to note the effect. The Constant
17
OUR COUNTRY HOME
Improver went out in a rowboat to get the proper point of vantage,
and we exerted our several imaginations to the utmost, seeking to
conceive the floor of the house at the top of that flopping line.
After one or two minor changes it was decided that the house
must face a little west of south, to take advantage of the prevailing
wind in summer. Although it was to be placed fully three hundred
feet back from the lake, we were told that the line of the shore must
be parallel with the line of the house, a precaution which seemed
both conventional and unnecessary to my ignorant ears.
"But we do not mean to have stiff formal gardening, little box
trees and hedging," I objected. " We want to look like a house
dropped down in the woods, rather by chance."
"Yes, but although you might not know why, that line would
offend your eye and that of every one who looked upon the place, "
said the Man of Many Maps. And he was right, as our later exper-
ience proved.
Even before the last papers were signed, in our eagerness to
begin we had brought over a traction engine and a pump, and with
many men and many barrows constructed a dam from the big Wis-
consin willow to the point of the Island, and emptied the shallow
bay of water. This was done for two reasons, to deepen the chan-
nel, and to obtain the rich mud for filling. Before frost we had
covered the whole space between the big house site and the lake, some
two acres in extent, with a coating of lake mud twelve inches deep.
We did not mean to build that big house, oh, not for many,
18
LOOKING OVER THE LAND
THE MAX OF MAXY MAPS EXPLAIXS
WHAT WE DID FIRST
many years ! The Constant Improver had always imagined a home
on an eminence overlooking wide expanses, but here even the emi-
nence had to be made: so where ultimately this big house was to
stand, a hole one hundred and twenty feet long by twenty-five wide
and seven feet deep was emptied of its contents, and lo! the founda-
tion of the house was ready.
A wagon load of dirt dropped upon an acre of land looks like a
teaspoonful, and it took fully fifty thousand loads of various kinds
of soil to do the grading necessary to bring the terrace of the house
fifteen feet above the level of the lake, Fortunately, with this lofty
height the Constant Improver professed himself entirely satisfied.
Always, when much grading is to be done the trees must be
sacrificed. A rag of cheese-cloth was tied around each one marked
for destruction, and we debated its fate, tree by tree. It was like
cutting off the little dog's tail an inch at a time so as not to hurt him.
Of course we could have ordered everything done without personal
supervision. Probably The Man of Many Maps would have pre-
ferred this way. Perhaps he hoped we might ultimately grow
callous, broad-minded, he called it, or perhaps become reason-
able and able to understand the whys and wherefores, to foresee
the result, the completion of the whole; but I confess it seemed
brutal to cut those trees down.
" Cannot this one be spared ? " I pleaded. " Look at it, think
of the years that it has taken to make so splendid a tower; think of
the years it will take to replace it. "
21
OUR CO U N T R Y HOME
But The Man of Many Maps would smile mysteriously, half-
pityingly, and say, " You miss the point of view. " He was not
punning either; far from indulging in such frivolities, he left all
that to the Friendly Architect !
" Thus it must be, " he would calmly continue, '* and you will
be satisfied with the result. You will have plenty of trees left.
Look at your wonderful woods. "
In spite of my agreeing perfectly with his dictum, in spite of all
that my reasoning powers could tell me, in spite of seeing those trees
go down, one by one, I can never to this day reconcile myself to it,
or hear that dreadful final crash without a little contraction in my
throat and a shiver, as if the tree were almost a sentient being, and
I had taken a life.
After over four hundred trees, large and small, had been felled,
I supposed the land was ready to plant ; but no although the
trees had been brought down in most modern and approved fashion
by cutting around them and uprooting them, stumps and all, the
horses pulling them over by chains, from the lawn alone, an acre
in extent, sixteen wagon loads of roots varying from one to six inches
in diameter were carried away before the land could be ploughed,
graded, harrowed, and sowed.
In order to preserve the natural beauty of the shore, no pump-
house, or boathouse, or even coal-shed was allowed there. To be
sure, we must have a pier. No artistic and practical model pre-
senting itself, we must fain keep to the time-honored posts, sunk in
22
W H A T W E DID F I R S T
cribs of stones which could be taken up in winter. This was care-
fully hidden from the house by a grove of native willows.
Perhaps the most important part of all work done on a country
place lies under the ground, and of this underground work the water
sy>lem stands first. We were fortunate in having the lake to draw
THE LITTLE MUSHROOM-LIKK PfMP HOUSE
from. Close to the pier an intake pipe four inches in diameter went
back three hundred and fifty feet to the little mushroom-like pump-
house at the edge of the service yard. Its apex was only six feet
above the level of the ground. Over its brown shingled roof, the
outside tank holding fifty-two gallons of gasoline, and its cement
steps leading down to the engine-room, were trained wild honey-
23
O u R COUNTRY HOME
suckles and blackberry vines, and all about were planted dogwoods
and wild gooseberries under the small maples and oaks already
standing. The floor, six feet below the level of the ground, was made
of cement, the sides of brick. Here was installed at once perhaps
the most important member of our family, the eight-horsepower
gasoline engine, which for ease in running, durability, and reliability
cannot be praised too highly. The exhaust was carried thirty feet
beyond the house so that all odors are rendered inoffensive.
Hidden in the woods, high up on the hill, one hundred and
fourteen feet above the level of the lake and seventeen hundred feet
away, a great oval basin fourteen feet deep, and holding thirty-three
thousand gallons, was excavated. Lined with brick and plastered
with cement, surrounded with a boulder wall four feet high, the
reservoir was really a beautiful spot. The trees were reflected in
its clear surface, the flying clouds looked up from its depths, shad-
ows danced on its cool gray sides; but we soon found it best to give
up our hill-top lakelet, and we had to cover it. It was charming
to see the autumn leaves dancing on its surface; but what about the
action on water of decayed vegetable matter? An adventurous
young chipmunk has been known to investigate too closely the slip-
pery cement sides, with disastrous consequences, not merely to him-
self; we therefore boarded over the top and piled plenty of hay
on that as a temporary expedient. I can well see that the next
important improvement on the place will be a fine solid cement
basin roofed in clean and tight.
24
THE TREES GO DOWN OXK liY OXE
THE DHAIXS CONCEALED BY BOULDERS
WHAT WE DID FIRST
The engine, run usually only one day in the week, fills this reser-
voir in nine and a half hours. The main waterpipes have a diameter
of four inches and are laid four feet deep to be beyond the reach of
frost ; the pressure is great enougli to throw several streams of water
entirely over the house from a two-inch fire hose. It was a simple
thing to put reducers on the house plumbing, and a great comfort
always to have plenty of water to use as we liked. I heard a woman
say once that her ideal of country life was to combine the informality
and simplicity of tent life with plenty of bath-rooms !
Along the roadway, hidden behind boulders and shrubs, through
the kitchen garden and flower garden, over the lawn and in the wood
at irregular intervals, the water taps began to appear, standing
twelve inches high with wheels turning easily to control the supply,
ready to keep the whole place moist in time of drought. Fifteen
sprinklers of the simplest construction, six and eight feet in height
and throwing a spray thirty-five feet in diameter, could even be run
all night if necessary, the faint throb, throb, of the engine carrying
the basso for the crickets' and katydids' song.
Meanwhile the little cottage in the woods was growing rapidly.
We frankly admired its brown rough-hewn timbers, overhanging
eaves, and hooded casements, its small, open porch, its covered
entry, and big woodshed for the summer cooking. With neither
shades nor blinds, the trees had to be our protectors from the sun;
though flowered cretonne curtains could be drawn across when
needed, making bright bits of color on the rough plaster walls.
27
O U R COUNTRY H O M E
What a happy summer we spent in the tiny cottage ! To awaken
each morning with that indistinct realization of some pleasant hap-
pening, and to feel sure that more pleasant and unthought-of experi-
ences were before one, preparing the way for that dreamless slumber
at night into which the out-of-door worker so deliciously sinks.
THK LITTLE COTTAGE
Curiously marked maps began to appear, with numbers dotted
all over them. Long lists of plants and shrubs all carefully dis-
guised, even the most familiar, under their interminable Latin
names, accompanied them. Our evening's occupation, and often
that of our daylight hours too, lay in deciphering these oddly-shaped
contours and repeating the names of the shrubs which were to go in
28
THi: ' NATURAL ROADS AFTKK THK SPRING RAI.VS
THE " UNNATURAL" ROADS
WHAT WE DID FIRST
them, for these maps showed us exactly where to put eacli plant as
it arrived, and how to place it, and how many were to be put in each
bed. It was exhaustive, I do not add exhausting, although I
might. Nor were we blind followers of any man. That would
be impossible for the Constant Improver. We always wanted to
know the reason why. Occasionally we dared to change the great
man's dictum, sometimes to our regret, but at others to our
mutual satisfaction.
The amount of time we spent out of doors that first summer was
incredible. Although it rained constantly, we prepared ourselves
with suitable attire and watched the changes from day to day.
Nothing could have given our shrubs a better start than those six
months of moisture; so what though the roadways did suffer and
our grassy dreams became muddy realities ? " To change one's
mind is a sign of progress, " said the Constant Improver, and dili-
gently hunted for gravel.
Fortunately we discovered on the place two large pits from which
we drew at least two thousand loads of gravel and an equal amount
of clay, carefully distributing both along the three-quarters of a
mile of roadway extending from the gate on the high road to the
house. No sooner did we get any part nicely rolled, than down
would come the rain again and undo all our labor. Where that
gravel went to was a mystery! It simply disappeared. Our own
supply gave out and still the roadway cried for more ! I would not
dare to tell how many wagon-loads went to make that apparently
31
OUR COUNTRY HOME
wild and thoughtless road, where the rough grasses creep close and
the brown leaves dance at will.
In order to preserve its natural and woodsy character and yet
keep it smooth and hard in all kinds of weather, a system of tiles
and catch basins was installed, the iron gratings of which were
carefully concealed under big boulders. Over these the wild
grasses and the moss soon gathered, and the squirrels adopted them
at once as dining tables and points of vantage. Blue violets and
buttercups, the vetch and showy orchid, the wild mint and pyrola,
the Solomon's seal and lady's slipper, baneberries both red
and white, sunflowers and asters and flowering spurge, the wild
gooseberry and bramble and hazel bush, and the dainty maiden-
hair fern, the evening primrose and the bitter-sweet, with countless
other favorites, were planted all along the roadway, on height, or in
hollow, in riotous confusion; and at intervals, winding paths, dark
and shadowy, led off into the unknown beauties of the forest beyond.
CHAPTER III.
FROM NOVEMBER TO MAY.
AFTER one summer in the little cottage, the abounding desire
for hospitality in the heart of the Constant Improver over-
came all obstacles, and it was decided to build the big house. This
was really a lark from beginning to end. Our materials, so far as
possible, were bought in the neighboring village where lived our
contractor, a fine cannv Scotchman, and most of the workmen.
Standing apart from the main house, but joined to it by a one-
story passage-way, was the kitchen-house. This we built first: a
little economical square box of a place, with every convenience'
excellent ventilation, and not an inch of waste room. It was begun
the first dav of September and we moved into it the third of Novem-
ber. The laundry was our library. We gravely covered the
stationary tubs with a piece of tapestry, set the four small chaits
around the tiny air-tight stove, hung a picture or two. moved in a
small bookcase, a rug, and a table for writing, put up the little
cretonne curtains we had used in the cottage, and were very much at
home again. In the maids' tiny dining-room we had our meals,
with the huge doors of the two ice-rooms o|>ening hospitably close
33
o r H ( o r x T R v n o M E
to us. Of course the kitchen was put in order for the big house.
We \vere very proud of that kitchen; indeed, \ve are still. The
wall> are pure white, with short bright blue-and-white cretonne
curtains over the five high windows. The plain low plaster hood
over the range is fitted with an extra flue in the chimney, which
carrie> away the fumes from the cooking and leaves the kitchen
surprisingly cool in summer. A temporary partition was built
across the end where the passage-way would ultimately lead to the
big house.
In absorbed delight we watched the house itself progress from
joists and uprights, hidden brick courses, wire lathing, and the plas-
ter coats, up to the shingled roof. It is vastly interesting to watch a
wooden house grow, the placing of each timber brings out so sharplv
the completed outline. We were never tired of contemplating it
from every point of the compass, and it was with a distinct thrill,
that after climbing a ladder and stepping gingerly over joists. I raised
my eyes for the first time to look out of what was to be a window in
my own room!
One morning we found a discouraged painter trying to fill the
big cracks in the great rough-hewn Mississippi pine timbers with
putt ;i. When we told him that we liked cracks, he was speechless.
The Constant Improver wanted to use the old Southern
'' shakes." for the roof. '' They do curl up and look so picturesque,"
he said.
" Hut how about keeping the water out ? " I ventured to inquire.
34
THE FIRST UPHIU11T.S
PUTTING OX THE PEBBLE-DASH
X O V E M B E R T O M A Y
Even the Friendly Architect reluctantly had to admit, ''Yes,
thev will leak, it is impossible to prevent that." We therefore com-
promised, securing the same effect by raising the edge of every fifth
row of shingles with a lath, thus giving a slight shadow every three
feet. In keen interest he judged the si/e of the pebbles for the
pebble-dash which was to be used for the first story and showed
how he wanted the composition thrown upon the wall. It took an
expert to do this evenly and smoothly, as the mixture hardened
at once and could not be touched again.
We wanted to stay all winter, but other duties demanded our
attention in the city. It was only now and then we could steal away
for a day or a week to note the progress of the work. How exhilara-
ting was the ride from the station, tucked into the big high sleigh,
with fur rugs piled about us and the icy road straight before us,
over the lake to our own doors! How picturesque were the men
in their winter costumes! the high boots, and fur caps, and the trim
heavy jackets. Out on the lake the clear ice called for the skater's
touch, and ice-boats skimmed gayly by, while dotted over the surface
were small houses where fishermen sat beside tiny stoves, watching
the line sunk through the ice at their feet.
One blustering day in late December, when some particularly
knotty problem had exhausted the vocabulary of Architect and
Foreman alike, the latter asked in sheer desperation:
'" Mr. Architect, did you ever build a house like this
before .' "
U R C U X T R Y II O M E
" No. "
" Did you ever ec a house built like this before?"
'' Perhaps not. "
" What are you trying to do. anyway?" This with still more
wrinkled brow.
"I am trying," said the Architect, slowly and impressively.
'' to make a new house look like an old one. "
Our good Foreman collapsed.
All the rooms downstairs had heavy beam ceilings and big fire-
places for four-foot logs. The plaster was finished rough all over
the house, and everywhere the casement windows opened wide.
The long, low book-cases and seats having been built in the living-
room, we needed only a writing table, a soft cushioned divan before
the fire, a few chairs, a chest for the wood, a mossy rug and green
linen curtains. We showed our conscientious painter an old piece
of faded green velvet which, a hundred years ago. had hung before
a shrine of the Virgin. Could he calsomiue the wall that exact
shade ? After many struggles he succeeded, and here we hung our
favorite Madonna and the singing children of della Uobbia. an
Arundel print or two. and some illuminated leaves from old Italian
choir books, and, behold, the room was finished.
Two hot-air furnaces were put in the house and double windows
placed on the most exposed corners. With the thermometer at
seventeen degrees below zero the place was perfectly comfortable.
On cold winter evenings great logs snapped in the fireplaces, and
38
TIIK I.ON(, (JAI.LKKV
NOVEMBER TO M A Y
the flames leaped in the dusk. What fun to gather around the
cooling ashes and toast marshmallows, or roast chestnuts, or
pop corn!
Although the house was wired for electricity we thought we
would try candles that first year. We liked them so well that
we have never changed. I don't know that I advise it as a mat-
ter of economy: but in every other respect this method of lighting
is perfect.
From the living-room, near the low broad shelves where lav the
magazines and papers, mostly garden ones, I am afraid, three
steps lead up into the hall, where in one corner a writing table is
installed, hidden by a Japanese dull-gold screen which makes a
wonderful background for crab-apple branches, trailing nasturtium
vines, or brilliant maple leaves. Opposite it a small reolian organ
with its stand of music rolls becomes a solace for many a (juiet hour.
The stairs wind up in easy stages around the walls of an adorable
little tower on the north, while from a s<juare vestibule on the east
the front door opens. Unlike most country houses, this door is
entirely hidden from the living apartments, nor are any roads
visible, only stretches of green turf bounded by the forest on one
side, and low shrubbery bounded by the lake on the other.
For almost ten years we had been gathering together various
articles of furniture, bric-a-brac, and pictures, which '' would be so
nice if ever we had a country house. " There was one room in the
city attic quite overflowing; it was not filled with our discarded and
41
o r u r o r x T R v n o M E
ontiM-own belonging* cither, for according to the Constant Improver,
too many country places serve as dumping grounds. When it
came to the point of actual selection, only such things were chosen
a> were suitable for the simplicity of our life there. I did plead for
one or two old Cashmere curtains from India, which, hung in a
dark corner, do not offend, and for the Bokhara embroideries, which,
being on linen and coarse, blend beautifully into our color scheme.
Good brasses of every kind were acceptable, with brown baskets
big and little from Japan. We found a fine old brass warming pan
in Holland, which one of the guests took fora corn-popper, and some
Chinese lacquer lanterns which were lovely for hanging-lamps.
The dining-room, finished in Elizabethan plaster-and-timber.
is ;i big airy room with windows on four sides. Old pewter and
brasses, blue delft and big steins stand in brave procession on the
encircling shelf, and a soft red rug and flowered cretonne curtains
give the room its needed color. The rush-bottomed chairs and dull
brown finish of the oaken table harmonize with the low-beamed
ceiling.
The use of plaster-and-timber for interior decoration was an
innovation in this part of the country.
We overheard one day a workman saying to another: "What
style do yon call this house.'"
I was glad he had n't asked me, I should have been so reluctant
to murmur. "Early English domestic ecclesiastical architecture! "
- for he was a go<xJ workman, and good workmen were scarce.
42
t'PSTAIRS I'OHCH. FIRST VKAH
I I-STAIHS 1'OHCII. TI11HD YKAH
X V E M B E R T () M A V
'' I don't know what xti/lc you call it." answered his companion,
dabbing great brushfnls of stain on the narrow pine timbers; ''but
I say this yere room is puttin' the outside of the house on the inside.
It isn't my taste, but we're told to do it."
Here was the secret discovered, the key to the whole situation.
We did want to bring the outside inside, we wanted the house to be
part and parcel of the woods, to sink into the hillside and take just
its proper proportion in the landscape.
A shelter in the present state of civilixatiou is a necessity, al-
though I believe some enthusiast has prophesied that fifty years
hence no civili/.ed being will think of sleeping indoors. Little we
thought when building the upstairs porch that lies hidden behind
the spreading leaves of the kud/.u vine, that an outdoor camp would
be arranged with cots and rubber covers, and mosquito nets im-
provised with the assistance of bamboo poles from the garden stock.
Little we knew then of the splendor of the sky in August, when
shooting stars trail leisurely across the heavens and the Milky
Way is a glory of shimmering light, ("an any one tell the beauty
of the summer dawn or explain the rapture of the wood-thrush's
song?
In the second story of the house a long gallery, continuing the
plaster-and-timber finish of the stairwav, gives access to the bed-
rooms, large, clean, and airy, and. like those at the Xorth Pole Hotel,
all facing south ! And every room has a big clothes-closet and a bath.
It is a pretty sight to watch the evening procession, each guest
45
R
C O U X T R Y H O M E
with her candle, winding up the dim stairway and along the shadowy
gallery, the old Roman ruins in the woodcuts on the narrow panels
appearing and disappearing, the light reflecting on a bit of Gubbio
or Mexican pottery, on an old Italian pharmacy jar or delft plate,
high on the shelf above the doors. A low seat covered with dull
red brocade stands opposite the row of north windows, where the
long sweep of the Dipper greets the sleep-laden pilgrims on their
dreamland wav.
CHAPTER IV.
THE TERRACES.
IX most country houses the porches are where the people really
live, and ours was to be no exception to the rule but we had
a passion for sunlight. How were we to have plenty of covered
porches and yet uncovered windows .' Finally we arrived at a
satisfactory solution of the problem. On the cast we made a covered
porch fourteen feet wide and thirty-four feet long, from which de-
scended the long broken flight of shallow steps to the carriage road.
Through the house in true Southern fashion, separating the
living-room from the dining-room, ran the "dog-trot," twenty-four
by twenty feet, which in summer was to be screened 'in, and in
winter protected by glass. On the table in one corner we keep a
Floral Calendar with the choicest blossoms of the day. The
season begins with the hepaticas in April; followed by anemones
and violets, jonquils and forsythia, in May. June brings great
branches of shad-bush and bridal wreath, lilacs and syringas, and
roses galore. With July the columbines appear on the table, the
lady's slipper, the cardinal-flower, and tall blue lettuce. August
otters her yellow helenium and lobelia. To most minds September
47
o r R c o r x T R Y HOME
means asters and goldenrod, but we vary it with the white snake-
root and the Jerusalem artichoke; while the barberry sprays and
bitter-sweet and sea-buckthorn and wychhazel come with the late
October sunshine. When the first frosts drive the tender plants
indoors they are brought into the dog-trot, now glassed in. The
jasmine is trained over the rough walls, the osmanthus and cryp-
tomeria stand on guard in the corners, and masses of chrysanthe-
mums, yellow and white and mauve and pink, which have been
ripening in the green-house all summer, make us forget that the
leaves are falling and snow is near.
Along both the north and the south sides of the house we built
open brick terraces fourteen feet wide, so that we have a variety
of outdoor rooms for all sorts of weather. The south terrace is
finished with a low split-boulder Avail, one hundred and twenty feet
in length; the north terrace is even with the lawn and with the
house too, so it is like stepping from one room to another when we
open any of the seventeen doors leading to the outer world!
Under each group of windows is built on the house a simple and
practical flower box, eighteen inches wide and ten inches deep on
the outside. Those on the south terrace are filled with tulips in the
early Spring, principally yellow ones to repeat the color of the jon-
quils in sunny masses under the leafless shrubs. A huge group of
forsythias carries the yellow almost to the water's edge, and when
the goldfinch darts among its radiant branches and the dandelion
glows in every corner, we say, "This is the most beautiful season
48
THE I>Oi;-TH'lT IN (XTOHKK
TI1K SWEET-SCENTED KUWKHS or THK WIIITK JA>MI\K
THE T E R R A C E S
of the year." In Summer these window-boxes are filled with a
special salmon-pink shade of geranium the Mrs. E. G. Hill, I
think, is its name - which blossoms freely until frost. The color
blends well with the soft browns and grays of the house, but it has
one fault, it does not go with the American flag, so that we are
not alwavs as patriotic outwardly as inwardly. Close to the house,
in the floor of the terrace, openings two feet wide were left and
filled with rich soil to nourish the vines and the rose geraniums
planted there.
Oyer the low boulder wall clambers the sweet-scented honey-
suckle, clematis, both Jackmani and the Japanese, the crimson
rambler, and the memorial rose. The clematis does not. confine
its affections to the wall alone, but clings to the rhodotypus and
spinea Van Ilouttei, to the rosa rugosa and the aralia pentaphvlla,
to the Indian currant and the forsythia, to the privet and even to
the Hercules' club, wherever they come within reach of its twining
leaves. At first I struggled with strings tied to bricks to hold these
wandering tentacles from the neighboring shrubs, but one year I
arrived too late and the vines were permitted their own sweet way.
The result was utterly charming and apparently not hurtful to the
bushes, so that within certain limits the clematis has had its own
\vay ever since.
At the east end of the terrace a marble bench invites one to a
cool repose. It is flanked by large terra cotta pots of the Chinese
rose-mallow, while a big green Italian oil jar makes a nice bit of
51
r R C U X T R Y H O M E
color under the roof of the adjoining porch. Two long boxes made
of rough-hewn timbers, stained brown to match the house, stand
close to the low ten-ace wall, so that the honeysuckle and the kud/u
run over and cover their sides in rich luxuriance. These also hold
the brilliant rose-mallow blooming the whole summer through.
great rosy and crimson bells of beauty. Of course these have to
go into the green-house for the winter, as do also the two small
cryptomerias brought from Japan, and the osmanthus, which was
sent to us from Washington and looks exactly like a berryless
holly. On the brick floor are some dull Chinese bowls of the
pink hnpatiens sultana, an exquisite specimen of tuberous begonia
with jxrhaps a pot of blue spiderwort sent by a sympathetic soul
for our wild garden, or a jar of red peppers brought down from
the kitchen garden that we may enjoy the variety of color as
they ripen.
The delicate sprays and sweet-scented flowers of the white
jasmine are twined about the big rough brown timbers supporting
the upstairs porch; the trumpet vine hangs heavy on one corner, and
the kudzu balances it on the other with masses of rich green leaves.
Here we sit on moonlit evenings and watch the boats sail through
the path of gold. Here the rain comes down in soft showers from the
gutterless roofs; and five minutes after the clouds have passed,
the terrace is perfectly dry again. Here we linger to get the hot
reflected light from the late autumn sun, and here I labor durin"
O
many a happy hour, snipping the geraniums, trimming the roses, and
T II E T E R R A C E S
training the vines. I must acknowledge I am not a rapid worker; if
a brown thrasher creeps out from under a sumac bush, down go
the scissors and up go the glasses. If a catbird calls " miaii " too
persistently, I know I must be working somewhere near his nest and
the temptation to investigate is irresistible. Life in the country is
extremely diverting, and concentration is difficult.
\Ve planted two trees close to the terrace wall for the birds. I
wanted to have one a picturesque, old. gnarled, dead tree. I had
heard of this as being a conspicuous object on the edge of the lawn
in some English estates, but the idea was a little radical for the
Constant Improver. lie remarked that probablv the newlv set out
trees would be thin enough, for a year or two anyway, to enable
us to see the birds perfectly. One was placed toward the east end
of the terrace, and one by my own window at the west. I am glad
to say that the birds adopted them at once. The humming-bird
brought all her little family to the trumpet flower pasture near, and
I have counted two or three fledglings at a time preening themselves
and balancing their tiny bodies on a branch within ten feet of mv
window. The song sparrow wakened me with his delicious trill;
the yellow warbler and the pewee, the robins and the thrushes
made it their rendezvous; the cedar-birds and the oriole took it as
a resting place; the redstart chirped his brightest, and the bluejay
I regret to say that even the bluejay discovered it and descended
with a scream of delight.
The north terrace presented quite a different planting problem.
O U R COUNTRY HO M E
Here, where tne sun never comes and no flowers can be made to
grow in the long window-box, the graceful Boston fern was planted,
flanked on either end by maiden-hair from the woods. Five brown
papier mache vases, such as florists use. were sunk at irregular
intervals in the earth in order to be invisible. In these were placed
lilacs or snowballs, flowering blackberry sprays, tall lilies or
hydrangeas, wild asters or goldenrod, plumed poppies or crab-
apple branches, according to the season.
I wonder that long before now someone has not sung the praises
of the impatiens sultana with its masses of deep shell-pink flowers,
blossoming steadily from June to frost, and in the shade. We put out
a long triangle of them at the edge of the terrace among the low
winterberries and yellow-root shrubs. A glint of morning sun and
at evening one brief half-hour seemed to be enough to make these
brave bright flowers hold up their small heads proudlv and laugh
with each answering breeze. They were such a gay lot the whole
summer long. All of this I owe to the generosity of a certain
good dame in our nearest village. Passing the house one dav. I
could not help exclaiming at the exquisite shade of what I thought
was dwarf phlox. Mustering up my courage, it was earlv in
our garden experiences and I did not know then the free-masonrv
among all true nature-lovers, I knocked at the side door in friendlv
fashion and asked the name of the shell-pink flower.
''I don't know its name, but you are welcome to it if you
want some."
56
NORTH TERRACE. FIRST YKAR
.NORTH TERRACE. THIRD TEAR
THE TERRACES
If I wanted some! I accepted the offer in the spirit in which
it was made, and from those small cuttings of impatiens sultana, we
raised a mass of tiny seedlings which, when only six inches high.
jHTsisted in blossoming, even under the bench in the green-house
A-rainst the ivv-covered wall of the house, bv the irreat l)ed of
A I5KD OK NATIVK KKKNS
native ferns from the woods, stands a hu^e saucer, thirtv inches
across, filled Avith hii; hroad tuberous begonias, pink and yellow,
white and scarlet. If the chipmunks were not such lovers of the
beautiful, these brilliant blossoms would last much longer! But
these little rascal>. eai^er to get the drop of honey deep down in the
heart of the flower-, ruthlessly tear them to pieces.
o r R c o r x T R Y n o M E
This terrace is bounded on the east by the staircase tower, and
on the west bv the out-of-door dining-room. The furniture in this
room is simple, consisting of one stone bench; the dishes plain and
f l>u to be precise, there is but one, a brass jar from India, warranted
not to break or dent if tipped over or thrown down upon the brick
A II Al'l'Y COHXKK
floor by the sudden antics of Tom or Bob. In the jar is generally
corn or peanuts, on the bench is spread the chopped suet which the
nut-hatches love, on the floor are thrown cherries for the robins
and woodpeckers. It is a busy, happy corner: the squirrels leap
down from the pergola roof at the opening of a door; the chipmunks,
by nature far more timid, have learned to eat from our hands, and
appear at any daylight hour ready and eager for play or for work.
60
TllK OTT-OI-'-DOOHS DINING-ROOM
THK SIF.T TKKK AND UIHD-BATH
T II E T E R R A C E S
Close by, sunk in a convenient corner under a maple tree, a small
forsythia shading it, lies the drinking fountain and bird-hath in one.
a big hollow boulder always kept filled with fresh clean water. Shall
I acknowledge it is scrubbed every Friday with soap and water ? I
know the birds appreciate the fact. On the overhanging bush grow,
apparently, currants or cherries or grapes, according to the season.
They look very pretty hanging on the pendulous branches of the
forsytliia. Here on the north terrace we have our after-dinner coffee
on mild Sundays in the late autumn, and here all summer long we
spend many a patient hour, making friends with our nearest neigh-
bors in the wild life about us. From the big overhanging trees be-
vond the lawn, the flycatchers dart after their tiny prey, the yellow
warblers come down to bathe, and the red-headed woodpeckers
call their children to the newly found fruit farm so conveniently near.
The shadows lengthen on the lawn, the evening song of the thrush
arises, the robins on the pergola tuck their small heads away, even
Bob, the squirrel, disappears into the dusk. The night has come.
CHAPTER V.
THE WOODSHED.
THERE is generally some corner of an otherwise perfectly regu-
lated estate where the various implements used in cultivating
the soil are left carelessly lying about: a wheelbarrow dropped on
one side when the whistle blew, a spade thrown down, a rake aban-
doned, and even the plough resting after snow has come. This is
not only disorderly and ugly, but also wasteful and extravagant,
according to the Constant Improver. A place should be provided
for every article. Still less patience did he have with the countless
bits of jetsam and flotsam usually found near the kitchen door.
" No. there isn't the least necessity for a backyard!" reiterated
the Constant Improver. ''The kitchen doorway should be kept
as neat as the front of the house. This accumulation of rubbish in
a backyard is simply a survival of an old outgrown idea.
'' Yes, sir," I meekly assented, and began my objections. " What
about the coal and kindlings, the ash-can and the hose, the ice-
cream freezer and the blacking box, the
" All shall be provided for, and each shall have a place
" A convenient one, please," I interposed, as I foresaw my strug-
gles with new "helpers."
64
A SMALL LKAX-TO
THE KITCHEN DOORWAY
THE WOODSHED
"Certainly a convenient one, much better than in the disorder
of the backyard," and his tone was unmistakably contemptuous.
Part of the kitchen-house porch was therefore partitioned off,
making a really admirable place for the coal and kindling, for the
two garbage tins, the oil-can, and the ash-barrel, the pier lantern
and the stepladders, the ice-tongs and the brooms, with a nail for
each cloth and tool. It did not quite take in the wheelbarrow or
the sprinkler, the big coils of hose or the lawn-mower, the leaf-cart,
rakes, or other gardener's implements ; so a small lean-to, seven by
sixteen feet, was built into the corner of the service yard, and vines
were planted over it and bushes about it. It is curious how soon
such an enclosure gets filled to overflowing. We had a tool room
in the stable, too, which did not seem to have lost any of its mass of
heterogeneous contents. Our kitchen doorway was neatness per-
sonified, the brick walk was as clean as our front terrace; and in
the oval where the service road turned we planted roses, which took
advantage of the open yet sheltered situation, and prospered ex-
ceedingly. We approved of our service yard, but the problem of
the old-fashioned backyard was only half solved. Somewhere the
big logs must be piled up, somewhere the old boxes and cases must
repose before being split into kindling, somewhere the extra bricks
and drain tiles, the wire-cloth, the barrel of salt, the bags of bone-
meal, and general odds and ends must find a resting place.
So the Constant Improver seized his scribbling pad and carelessly
sketched a long low woodshed with wide-spreading roof, much the
kind of a house we used to draw when we were children.
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OUR COUNTRY HOME
" Be sure it is big enough, " I ventured, and we sallied forth to
find a spot for it to stand upon. Just beyond the stable on the other
side of the brook was a comparatively level piece of ground; here
we decided to put it. The Constant Improver marked off the site
in long strides, afterwards verifying his measurements with stakes
and a tape-line. He sat him down in his own sanctum and with
i|iia(lrille paper prepared a working drawing. It was a tempting
thing to do, no chimneys to place, no windows or doors to bother
with; the road eleven feet wide went through the middle of it,
and all the winds of heaven blew around its shadowy spaces.
It was seventy-two feet long, twenty-five feet wide, and eighteen feet
high in the centre, and the roof swept down within eight feet of the
ground and matched that of the house in its raised shingles. The
sides were of rough-hewn planks stained brown and overlapping
each other like clapboards; the centre gable on either side was of
plaster and timber construction to the ground; and where the side-
walls joined the roof a space five inches high was left for ventilation.
The gardener began the building with enthusiasm, but it was not
long before he reappeared carrying the drawing, over which he
still brooded in puzzled inspection.
'' At one end the eaves are only three feet from the ground, if you
please, sir, and at the other they are eight feet. "
" Well, that is the fault of the ground, not of the drawing. Take
off a plank or two at the bottom of one end; if the roof line is
straight the rest will come out all right. " And it did.
fiR
THE BKRKY GARDEN
IN THi; OVAL WHKRK THE SERVICE ROAD TURNED WE PLANTED ROSES
THE SERVICE YARD WALL
THE WOODSHED
The woodshed was an ideal spot for '' hide and go seek, " and
on rainy days an unfailing source of pleasure to our boyish visitors.
Here no jointed rods or brightly polished reels hung on the walls,
but the old-fashioned poles of our childhood, the strings which
always got tangled when in my hands, and the hooks which caught
01 H BOYISH VISITORS
everything except the fish. The iceboat was slung to the roof
in company with an old sailboat mast; the carpenter's bench with
its vise and kegs of nails stood invitingly at hand. In case more
strenuous exercise was desired, the axe was always in the chopping-
block ready to be used, and the saw-horse with its saw hanging near
suggested an opportunity. The handy wagon, too, was supposed
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OUR COUNTRY HOME
to have its corner here when not in use, but it carried out the prin-
ciples of its name so faithfully that, loaded with clay or coal, with
stones or wood, with hay or plants, with sand or sod, it was con-
stantly in demand. Its strong construction, its adaptable body,
its solid wooden wheels with six-inch tires, were sources of great
THE HANDY WAGON
satisfaction. A huge sandscreen, the scraper, the enormous leaf-
basket, a chain and tackle, an old door, a discarded window, a worn
wash-boiler, planks and boards and boxes, kegs and pipes of all
sizes, excelsior and straw for packing, poles and posts and wire-
netting and traps, an indescribable collection of odds and ends,
"which might come handy sometime," filled even this big place
from the ground to its topmost beam.
72
THE WOODSHED
If half the woodshed was treated as a backyard, the other half
was reserved for the wood, and here it rose in neatly disposed piles
from the twelve-inch pieces to the big four-foot logs, split or not
according to the thickness of the tree. We had about forty cords
to begin with, from the trees necessarily cut down, and each year the
dead wood had to be taken from the forest for fear of fire or accident.
Thus we cut on an average about thirty cords annually, and with all
our open fires, found no difficulty in consuming it.
Formerly the horse treadmill went about the country-side from
house to house during the winter, filling the sheds with a year's sup-
ply of wood. The cheerful buzz of the moving saw, the drop of the
falling sticks, the sweet-smelling, golden sawdust on the crisp snow,
the animated voices of the men at work, enlivened the winter land-
scape. But with this machine only about twelve cords a day could
be cut ; so the portable motor or steam saw has taken the place of
the treadmill, the long shaft adding its whir to the buzz of the saw,
and with this thirty cords can easily be finished in a long day's work.
It is certainly more humane and labor-saving, and what is a little
more or less odor of gasoline in these automobile days ?
When the trees are cut down we save the smaller branches and
chop them into certain lengths, tying them into bundles with willow
withes. These make a quick brilliant flame in the big fire-places
on cool autumn evenings or in the damp days of midsummer.
I never see those huge four-foot logs piled to the roof at the far
end of the shed without a fleeting vision of our first hearth fire : the
73
OUR COUNTRY HOME
cool green room, the happy faces about us, the sudden silence as the
Friendly Architect formally passed the lighted match to the Constant
Improver, who, after a glance at me, stooped and touched the bit
of paper. An instant's smoke, and the kindling caught ; the flame
spread in a broad sheet over the bricks, and in spite of the rain,
we knew that there was a perfect draught, which ever since has been
our comfort and our pride.
What does that scent of the wood-pile bring to one's mind ? It
recalls to me a shady spot under the big willow in my grandfather's
backyard, where stood an old worn chopping-block and an axe. All
about were chips which we children used to bring in by the basket-
ful, I suppose to light the fire with, but to this day I am not sure,
as a child I never was interested to know; all I delighted in was
the rich pungent odor of the freshly cut wood and the rivalry over
who could fill her basket first. I can see my grandfather's kindly
face as he stopped on his way from the barn to inquire, " Who 's
ahead ? " We ceased our work instantly and looked up with hopeful
eyes to see if he was going to tell us a story : about the new calf's
doings, or the little pig's escape from the barnyard, or the horse who
stubbed his toe going down hill with a wagon-load of apples, or
some other equally interesting tale. Well we knew those thrilling
experiences and dearly did we love them. As an older person
delights to tell over and over again the same story, so the child loves
to hear it, and no matter how threadbare the narrative, his apprecia-
tive comment always is, " Tell it again. " In what does the charrq
THE ROADWAY LEADING THHOrcII THE WOODSHED
THE INTERIOR OF THE WOODSHED
THE WOODSHED
consist ? As we grow older we demand novelty, but to a child all
life is so novel, perhaps, that his imagination, not being bounded by
judgment or experience, darts off at all sorts of unexpected angles
and consequently finds new food for thought in the elements of the
same old story. Or is it because the child really grasps more of the
meaning at each repetition ? I sometimes doubt if children care
so- much for the meaning of words; it is rather the sound which
pleases them, as witness the enchanting effects of the Mother Goose
jingles. Did you ever repeat a rhyme in a strange tongue to a small
child ? Try it and see what surprised joy it brings.
One quaint little chap always called our pergola, "the Purga-
tory," not that he had any unhappy associations connected with
it, or meant to cast any reflections upon it; indeed I doubt very
much whether he knew the meaning of the word, but he preferred
its more resonant cadence.
How many children have played Robinson Crusoe in our wood-
shed and made wonderful discoveries of treasure in its dark corners !
The sun poured upon the w r estern side of the shed, where it faced
the berry-garden, and a great patch of mint close to the hospitable
entrance mingled its perfume with the sweet scent of the freshly
cut wood. Swallows made their homes under the wide-spreading
eaves and circled in endless curves above its hospitable roof; robins
and phcebes appropriated the protected ledges, and a trusting yellow
warbler built her nest in an adjacent low thicket. This particular
bird had a hard time getting settled one year. When she had nearly
77
OUR COUNTRY HOME
finished her home in a lilac bush by the stable, a catbird began build-
ing near; whereupon the tiny aristocrat moved every twig and hair
of her own dwelling to a more quiet and select neighborhood.
Through the forest to the wood-shed we permitted ourselves
that grassy roadway which once we dreamed would suffice for the
main avenue. Wild-flowers nodded on its borders, and the running
mallow spread over the ground its tiny cheeses, which children
love to glean.
Aside from its practical usefulness the woodshed was really a
beautiful object; the leaves above it cast wavering shadows on its
long expanse of moss-green roof, the sunlight flecked it, and about
it rose the forest always beckoning, tempting us from our work with
its promises and revelations.
CHAPTER VI.
THE KITCHEN-GARDEN.
FOND as we are of the wilderness, when it comes to our daily
food we have extremely civilized ideas, so of course a kitchen-
garden was a necessity. Now this kind of a garden should be near
the house and yet completely hidden from it. Ours lies at the end
of the pergola, in a natural hollow in the woods, screened from the
lawn by trees and shrubs and all manner of low underbrush. A
winding path, with big boulder steps, leads down to the lilac-framed
gateway; and as the open, sunlit space breaks upon one, the vision
seldom fails to elicit an exclamation of pleasure even from the least
enthusiastic of our guests.
We had cleared but an acre for this garden, as we could not
bear to sacrifice any more trees. In sheer desperation at our obsti-
nacy, the Man of Many Maps wrote us that since we had such an
objection to cutting down trees he should advise us to buy our vege-
tables. Even this piece of sarcasm failed to move us, and we do
buy our potatoes to this day. Can a kitchen-garden without flowers
or trees or shrubs be beautiful and still thoroughly practical ? We
think it can. To be sure its outline must be severe, since neither
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OUR COUNTRY HOME
winding paths nor curving beds are permitted. We brought down
the old gray lichen-covered fence which for twenty years had
bordered the high road, and set it up around the garden, re-hung
the squeaky gate, and admired our handiwork. The country people
looked on askance. What kind of ideas were these ? A nice, new,
painted one would have cost no more!
Over the old fence trailing grape-vines sprawl at their own sweet
will, and the Japanese clematis perfumes the air with its snowy
sweetness; eglantine, golden glow, and phlox peer through the pick-
ets at their lowly neighbors, and on the west the shaded green of the
young locust trees makes a screen between the service road and
the garden.
80
THE KITCHEN- GARDEN
Outside one gate are tall white lilacs. They always grew la-
the gate in ray grandmother's garden, and I know she would approve
of them, but what she would think of the frivolous double-flowering
Japanese crab apples at the opposite entrance, it is better perhaps
PATH FROM PERGOLA TO KITCHEN-GARDEN
not to know. In a sunny corner, still outside of the fence, the
nasturtiums clamber riotously, Avhile the hollyhocks look down in
pharisaical disdain on cauliflower and kohlrabi and celery beds.
Tliis is the frame for the picture. It is possible that in planning
our planting we paid more attention to the appearance of the place
than was wise. We first divided the garden into four parts by an
eight-foot grassy roadway and a three-foot intersecting path, also of
grass. This proved practical and the road has never become worn.
81
OUR CO U N T R Y HOME
On either side of the wide roadway down its entire length the par-
sley grew, keeping its feathery green fresh until Thanksgiving. Of
course we knew we must plant everything in rows for convenience in
weeding and picking; but in the first arrangement of those rows our
inexperience was laughable. For instance, we had the tall lima
beans against the fence, under the shade of the neighboring trees,
they looked well there too, on paper; then came the trellis tomatoes
and high Brussels sprouts in gentle gradation down to the red cab-
bage and bush wax-beans and sprawling squashes. Think of the
lovely color scheme! It was certainly most unkind of our friends
the limas to turn yellow and refuse to prosper without more sun and
air, while the tomatoes, greedy gluttons, said, " If we can't have all
the light we won't play." Now we carefully put the limas in the
centre of one side of the garden and the tomatoes in the centre of the
other, where they balance beautifully and prosper finely, and there
is no quarreling.
I suppose all vegetable gardens are much alike, but it is with
peculiar pride that we stand under the white lilacs at our own gar-
den gate and look down the broad grassy roadway, beyond the
parsley to the feathery carrots. We sniff the delicious fragrance
of the mint and sweet marjoram, the basil and the balm ; we ga/e
in deep admiration at the red-topped beets, grass-like onions, and
salsify; we look eagerly at the purple fruit of the egg plant and
the long green cucumbers tinder their heavy leaves; even the
horse-radish and its cousin the turnip, the parsnip and the humble
82
ARTICHOKES BEFORE THE TOMATO TRELLIS
THE LILAC-FRAMED GATEWAY
THE KITCHEN-GARDEN
spinach, we do not despise. What more beautiful orchid than the
martynia blossom What more lovely hibiscus than the yellow
okra ? The scarlet runners on their high poles repeat the color of
the peppers at their feet, and on the eastern boundary the plumy
mass of asparagus with its bright berries attracts the autumn
migrants and winter visitors. In June we steal a great bunch of
the tall feathery blossoms of the pie-plant for the dull green jar
by the fire-place in the living-room, and some day we may puzzle
our citv friends still more bv transferring the vellow green of the
* .
lettuce gone to seed, to its proper place in the middle of the
dining-room table!
Unconsciously I may have given the impression that our kitch-
en garden is principally a thing of beauty, attractive to the eye, but
with mediocre results in regard to its products. This im-
pivssion I wish most emphatically to dispel. As we pick our
vegetables smaller and younger than most people do, naturally
they would not make a wonderful display at County Fairs, but
we did get a first prize for celery and for kohlrabi too, and a
second for cucumbers, but our highest achievement was an Honor-
able Mention for carrots!
The Constant Improver is certainly a worthy descendant of
Adam as far as tomatoes are concerned ; for I believe that according
to the higher criticism the fruit of the tree of knowledge of good and
evil was really a tomato most luscious and tempting, which had
climbed the tree in the midst of the Garden. Indeed he is so fond
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OUR COUNTRY HOME
of them that he has even sacrificed his patriotism to the extent of
buying his seeds in England. Button's " Best-of-All " certainly
quite justifies its name. It is perfectly sound, rich scarlet, with
firm pulp and, as the catalogues say, " a good cropper. " The
cascade tomatoes hanging like grapes in long racemes have a deli-
cious flavor, and are very pretty when the fruit shades from green
to crimson. We also grow the yellow pear, delicate and dainty.
Every morning at breakfast, a dish of tomatoes is placed before
the Constant Improver; indeed they tell a story that in ordering a
dinner once, in some form or another tomatoes appeared in every
course !
One of our city guests, clutching her skirts tightly, looked over
the gate into the kitchen garden one September morning, and wish-
ing to say something pleasant and seemly, asked : " What are
those ? "
Now we had planted some French artichokes before the trellises
of trained tomatoes so that as the leaves were stripped to permit
the fruit to ripen, the spreading green foliage of the artichoke
might cover all deficiencies.
The Constant Improver answered: "Those are artichokes,
- French artichokes."
"What, those red things?"
"Oh, no! those are tomatoes." At which we all, herself in-
cluded, burst into irrepressible laughter.
In the early Spring this sheltered sunny hollow is an ideal
ALL READY TO PUT OUT
THE FAIR EXHIBITS
THE KITCHEN-GARDEN
spot for the first June pea and sweet white radish, but as the high
trees leaf out and the underbrush thickens in the surrounding for-
est, the August planting of peas demands more air and is likely to
mould. This, however, is the only thing that suffers.
We try to have our three favorite vegetables join hands, as it
THOSK PROUDLY AXXOl'NTED FIRST PKAS
were, and accompany us through the summer months. By early
May comes the asparagus, purple and green to match the violets
creeping under the fence to greet it ; this lasts until the middle of
June, when those longed-for and proudly announced first peas are
due. After the morning greeting between neighbors on the train,
one casually remarks, trying not to let his pride appear in his voice,
'' We had fresh peas for dinner last night." If the other neighbor
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OUR COUNTRY HOME
is remarkably polite, she merely answers, " How nice ! " and does
not boast of her crop harvested two nights before! With good
fortune the peas last until early August, when the dwarf limas begin.
It seems to me few people appreciate the lima bean. I am not re-
ferring to the fat, wilted, yellow article which one buys in the city
markets. That is a libel on the name. Picked when very small
and flat and never allowed to grow fat, they are a most delicious
vegetable, taking their proper place as the successor to the green pea.
We find in this climate great difficulty in wintering the French
artichoke and we do not try to raise melons. Cooked like celery
with a brown or Hollandaise sauce, the Swiss chard is a welcome
addition to our. early summer fare. In salad, too, it makes a
pleasant change.
Although mushrooms do not grow in our kitchen garden, they
form an important part of our bill-of-fare, for nearly all the season
in one corner or another of the place, appear the richly flavored
morels, the shaggy-mane and inky coprinus, the well-known field
mushroom, the dainty psathyrella disseminata, or the panseolus
ritirugis of particularly exquisite flavor. Nothing can be more
toothsome than these delicacies from one's own lawn. There is a
certain taste about them, an indefinable essence, which tickles the
pride as well as the palate. Mushrooms should be cooked very
simply. After peeling them we put buttered toast on a flat baking-
dish, pour cream over, put the mushrooms on, a dash of pepper
and salt, and bake for ten minutes.
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THE KITCHEN-GARDEN
Egg-plant is usually either fried in thin hard slices or baked
in its own skin ; but we have a way between the two. Peel it and
cut it in slices half an inch thick. Soak it in salted water for an
hour, roll it in flour, put it in a buttered pan, and cook on top of
the stove for five minutes; turn once. Serve at once, so that the
outside may be crisp and the inside soft.
I wonder how often, in America, sorrel soup is made. We are
very fond of it, and the gardener is charmed to have us uproot it.
A big handful flavors enough soup for eight people Only the
leaves are used, chopped fine. Thicken the milk in a double boiler
when heated, with a little butter and flour. Have about two cup-
fuls of soup stock in a pan, put the sorrel in the stock, mix with the
milk the last minute, and strain it before serving. Whipped cream
may be added if desired.
Part of the beauty in a kitchen-garden lies in the well-drained
ground kept free from weeds, and the rich black earth crumbly
and yet moist lying ready to receive the new seed and return to the
air new fruit from its abounding fertility. Every Fall one-seventh
of the whole garden is trenched to a depth of two feet, a layer of
manure put in, the top soil put at the bottom, another layer of man-
ure at a depth of one foot and the bottom soil turned on top. The
rest of the garden is all roughly spaded in the Fall, but in the Spring
it is trenched to a depth of one foot and a layer of manure put in.
Every seven years the whole garden is thus turned upside down,
leaving only the asparagus and pie-plant undisturbed.
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OUR COUNTRY HOME
Farther up the hill beyond the cottage and the stable, bounded
by the long woodshed on one side and the greenhouse on another,
lies the berry garden of half an acre. Here are gooseberries ; red,
white, and black currants; blackberries; red and white rasp-
berries; not to forget strawberries, and even a tiny patch of blue-
berries! Here the small cherry trees are planted, and plums, pears,
and apples, with more mint beds, tarragon and caraway, anise
and sweet savory, sage and lavender. Behind the greenhouse are
the cold frames, the rose-beds for cutting, and the compost heap.
Who but the Constant Improver would have tried to make the
compost heap a thing of beauty? After building a high brown
fence about it, with double gates on the roadway leading through,
and training roses on one side and wild grapes on the other, not
yet wholly satisfied, he planted vegetable marrow directly upon the
mound. This soon completely covered it with a mass of big, trop-
ical-looking leaves, yellow flowers, and pale green gourd-like fruit.
Beyond this enclosure rises the forest in gentle undulations, and
the little path beside a winding brook leads temptingly into its depth.
CHAPTER VII.
THE FORMAL GARDEN.
IT did not take long to evolve a simple, sensible, and comfort-
able costume for working. This consisted of a sailor blouse
of cotton cheviot, thick enough, like the Irishwoman's shawl, to
keep out the heat, while giving full liberty of movement. Being
tHistarched it was easily laundered. With it was worn a short,
straight, nine-gored skirt to match, a wide-brimmed hat, stout low-
heeled shoes, and large loose-wristed gloves. The latter were pieced
out to the elbow with heavy silesia finished by an elastic, to keep
them from slipping. As a poor pocketless female, I evolved a
kind of carpenter's apron for practical use and found it a great
convenience. This was made of heavy white galatea with three
deep compartments beginning six inches below the waist and long
enough to hold a hammer. In addition, they also held a paper
bag for mushrooms, a small pad and pencil, a ball of twine, scis-
sors, a large knife, and a pair of the pruning shears which were
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OUR COUNTRY HOME
designed for the gentlemen orange-growers of California. These
were given me by a kindred spirit, and are one of my most cher-
ished possessions. They have a strong and easy cut and yet are
small enough to be held comfortably in the hand. Inch staples for
the big vines and double pointed tacks for the smaller ones, with a
few hairpins to coax back refractory brambles from the path,
complete the outfit. After I have tucked in my small Bird Book,
hung the glasses around my neck, and snatched a few peanuts for
the squirrels, I am ready for work in any direction.
Like the little girl who was asked to choose between a white
candy and a pink one and answered, " Both, "so when I was asked
to choose between a wild-flower garden and a dear little shut-in
garden of old-fashioned blossoms, I too chose both. Just beneath
my window, at the edge of the terrace steps, lay a level or nearly
level bit of ground just the right size for a tiny garden, with plenty
of sun, protected on the north by the kitchen-house and service-
yard wall, and on the west by the forest. It measured fifty by sixty
feet. We put around it, first, a beautiful barberry hedge, not
a clipped hedge, but one heavy with graceful sprays of crimson
fruit. This proved anything but practical, for it was sharp and
inhospitable, and grew bare and brown below, I think the tech-
nical term is "leggy." Then we piled up a loose boulder wall.
This was better, but too rustic to be in keeping with the terrace
wall which it joined. Finally, we continued the terrace wall, three
and a half feet high, of split boulders laid in cement. It has three
91
THE FORMAL GARDEN, FIRST STAGE
THE BARBERRY HEDGE
THE FORMAL GARDEN
entrances. On the south the path leads to the pier, on the north
to the service-yard, and on the west straight away down the hill to
the depths of the cool, dark forest. The outer southern side of
this wall is covered with a mass of Dorothy Perkins roses of a
wonderful pure pink, and in front of them hardy chrysanthemums
which blossom long after the roses cease, so that their colors
never clash.
The brick paths, three feet wide, leave a border of ten feet to
plant, on three sides of the garden. There are also four inner
beds of equal size, and a small circle in the centre, where a simple
travertine stone fountain plays. The cement basin under it is
lined with coarse gravel, with a few rocks for the goldfish to hide
under, and has a border a foot wide which is always planted with
rose geraniums growing rank in the blazing sun.
On descending the steps from the terrace, two small pyramidal
box trees stand on either side of the centre path, flanked by two
Japanese quinces beyond at each end of the flowering border. By
these grow clumps of bleeding-hearts, one in very truth from my
grandmother's garden, where it flourished forty years ago. Old-
fashioned fringed pinks fall over the path, and a mass of heliotrope
is tucked in by the pier gate, from whence down the southern
border, across the western end, and back along the northern border,
rise towering dahlias, pink and yellow and crimson and white, with
phlox of varying tints before them. Snapdragons, larkspur, and
marigolds fill in all spaces to the lobelia border on the southern
97
I R C O U X T R Y HOME
side, while on the northern side of the garden grow the nicotine,
white and pink and purple, so deliriously fragrant in the starlight,
a group of hyacinthus candicans. and masses of peonies and mari-
golds, the African anil French, and sanvitalia. which if it isn't a
marigold ought to he. it is so like a bal>y sister. Lilies spring up
unexpectedly everywhere among the peony leaves, the auratum.
the speciosnm album, and rubruni: even the tiger lily appeared
one <eason. where from no man could tell. On each side of the
forest gateway a white, crushy rose, the blanc double De Coubert.
blossoms all summer through. The boltonias and golden glow
topple over the wall toward it, and the Japanese clematis is
kept from strangling it only by constant vigilance. The duty of
the clematis is to cover the gate-posts; and by the aid of strings
tightly drawn it does so in exquisite beauty. Here blossoms the
pale blue salvia, beloved by the bee-, and in September the Japan-
e-e anemone and hardy chrysanthemums.
The squirrels and the chipmunks like the walks in the little
garden. They amble around the fountain and scud alon^r the
bare bricks. The robins and the catbirds find good eating in the
mossy interstices and hop gravely out through the forest gateway
tc their homes not far awa\.
There is something about a garden which brings out the gen-
uine side of a person's nature. It is impossible to be formal or
artificial in the presence of the plants you work over yourself.
To my shame be it said that there are a few flowers which I
98
,11 >r 01 [sun: run KOK.M vi. GAKUKN
FROM MY WINDOW
THE FORMAL GARDEN
positively detest. Zinnias, except the burnt orange and yellow
varieties, I can not endure. Neither have I any patience with the
weak-backed asters that can not stand the least rain, but hang
down their mud-bespattered faces ; nor with the sickly ageratums,
even the best of which fail so utterly to live up to their title of blue.
We get a world of entertainment trying experiments in this
little garden. For the four small beds we want something that
will be a mass of blossom from June to frost, and that is not so easy
to find. We agreed to put petunias in one bed, they are so fragrant,
and the " rosy dawn " variety is a lovely clear pink. Of course,
they will sprawl over the edge late in the season and grow a little
yellow and brown through the middle, but altogether they are quite
satisfactory and require no snipping.
Every year I say I will not have another of those careless
china pinks, but every Spring when I see their cheerful faces and
clear bright colors I succumb, and that is the end of my leisure.
With care which means at least an hour a day without a break
in snipping off dead blossoms, these also last until the frost.
The other two beds have had many tenants. Yellow is ray
favorite color, and one bed of that tint we must have. One year
the golden-ball chrysanthemums bloomed from the fifth of
June to the eleventh of August, when the rain demolished them.
Nothing could have been more glowing than this mass of yellow
flowers and finely cut green leaves. They require much care,
for they must not be allowed to go to seed. Another year the
California poppy outshone the sun most of the summer through;
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OUR COUNTRY HOME
but this must be seeded anew each year and is apt to grow straggly
hv August. The baby rambler put forth its big bunches of crim-
son flowers for one season, but I could never keep the faded ones
cut, and they did not cover the ground quite enough to be satisfac-
tory. Once we had snapdragon dwarf snapdragon, I want to
emphasize, but owing to either the too favorable conditions or a
mistake in the seed, great stalks shot up and lopped over and lay
down, until I was quite in despair. I did not want to stake them,
for it would have looked like a beanpole patch, and I could not
peg them. I like snapdragons too in their proper place.
A woodbine hangs its strands gracefully over the wall at the
foot of the terrace steps, and the white jasmine reaches out from
under the wild cherry tree until their leaves mingle. A tall high-
bush cranberry stands sentinel behind the bleeding-hearts, and over
the northern wall the euonymus radicans struggles to climb. A
big clump of elms is entirely out of keeping in a tiny formal
garden; but here my old prejudice sways me. We found it there,
and I cannot bear to cut it down. Moreover, it is usually full of
birds, and shelters a nest or two in its thick foliage. Still farther
on. beyond the kitchen house, the service-yard wall of rough
plaster, six feet high, extends to the west. The woodbine clam-
bers over it and fringes the old monastery doorway, low arched,
and brown and banded with long iron hinges. In front of the wall
stand hollyhocks between high lilac bushes and the wild rudbeck-
ias, Newmanni and triloba and sub-tomentosa.
Just outside the formal garden to the west are Shasta daisies,
102
IX WIXTKR COSTl.MK
LONG STKANDS OF \ViMUllIXi-;
THE FORMAL GARDEN
the cultivated evening primrose, the yellow loosestrife, Achillea
the pearl, the pink spiraea and the blue wild indigo, all running
riot as if they had escaped from man's control and were having a
good time by themselves. Beside the path leading into the for-
est, grow demurely the prim clumps of showy stonecrop, setting the
example as it were in the midst of all this frivolity. But the yellow
buttercups dance on undismayed. The Sieboldei polvgonuro
from Japan, rustles her cloud of white blossoms, and a clump of
wild gooseberry under the maples and hickories tell us we have
reached the woods again.
That first frost of Autumn, how unnecessary it seems! In
the morning the garden was a blaze of marigolds and dahlias;
the Japanese anemones and blue sal via, the saucy petunias and
phlox seemed to speak of midsummer. The plentiful buds of the
chrysanthemums almost convinced one that the blossoming sea-
son was just beginning, only the feathery masses of the clematis
and the rich red of the Virginia creeper on the wall told us that
Autumn had come. Suddenly a wind arose out of the north, bring-
ing a chill of ice. Surely there could be no frost with this gale, but
all the tender plants in pots were carried quickly under cover, the
great sheets of cheese-cloth and canvas were spread wherever
possible, and the wind died down. Brilliant starlight followed,
with crisp air exhilarating to us, but not to the garden! Alas!
the daylight disclosed a piteous spectacle. All the proud dahlias
bent black against their posts, the anemones hung their waxen
heads, the marigolds fell in limp dismay, there was even a film
10.5
o r K
COUNTRY H O M E
of ice over the pool of the fountain, and the goldfish sought the
shelter of the bedraggled rose geraniums which hung miserably
over the chilly coping. Only the phlox here and there held up its
cheery head, and the chrysanthemums looked on calm and un-
moved as if to say: "What did you expect? That the summer
would last always? Cut down the withered dahlias, they have
done their work for this year and will rest until another springtime.
Look yonder on the brilliant maple leaves, the glowing sumac
and yellow hickory, for this is what the Frost King has done for
your pleasure and your delight.
" When do the roses rest here ? " I asked an Italian in Rome,
translating literally.
"Oh, how sentimental you Americans are!" he answered.
" We never use such an expression in regard to flowers. "
Perhaps because the roses never do stop blooming entirely,
in Italy; but after all I like our changing seasons best, and I like
our thoughts of the flowers as beings that rest and work, that sleep
and waken as do we ourselves.
CHAPTER VIII.
THE PERGOLA.
FROM the out-of-door dining-room, following the outline of
the house, extending along the west side of the lawn, runs
the rustic pergola. Built from the trees which we had been ob-
liged to cut, their bark left on, the larger ones for the posts sunk four
feet in the ground and placed ten feet apart, the smaller ones for the
roof projecting three feet on either side, it did look at first quite
bare and hopeless. As a neighboring farmer put it : '' A nice lot
of wood you have there, but I should n't say it was piled real
economical. "
This arbor, two hundred and fifty feet long and twelve feet
wide, would in time, we felt sure, make a fine support for the vines,
a good background for the hardy border, and link the wild woods
with the smooth expanse of lawn. Paved with brick, laid herring-
bone fashion in sand, it became a favorite walk on dewy mornings.
Company in plenty WBS always there. In early Spring the rob-
ins were busy with their nests and broods overhead, yellow warb-
lers flitted in and out of the climbing roses, the grosbeak and his
little brown mate sought a building-site, and a pair of thrushes were
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OUR COUNTRY HOME
sure to float down to the hollow boulder near, for their daily splash.
All summer long, gray squirrels ran over the loosely-laid rafters, and
chipmunks rustled in the leaves, to appear before one, and squeal
for the accustomed nut. In the early Fall the Louisiana water
thrush teetered under the salvia blossoms, and chickadees called
merrily from the tall dry sunflowers in the woods close by. The
yellow leaves came tumbling down, the bending oak was crimson
against the sky, and we said, " Can any season be more beautiful
than Fall ? "
In winter, under the snow, the pergola was still more pictur-
esque. Blue shadows lay on the glistening ground, and every cranny
and tiny crack was filled with soft white powdery flakes. The
oak leaves rustled in the sharp air, the sky was all a wonderful blue,
the trunks of the trees were velvety black, and every blade and
leaf and twig was glistening with ice in the sunshine.
But, after all, midsummer finds it in its glory. All about the
posts are twined the wild virgin's bower, with its cousin from Japan,
a little clematis Jackmanni and the pure white Henryi; the wood-
bine of course, and the wild grape, the akebia quinata and the
rampant kudzu vine; the old-fashioned Prairie Queen rose and
the Baltimore Belle and the crimson rambler in splendid great
sprays of bloom twenty feet long; plenty of eglantine, delicious
under the hot sun, the northern fox and the Niagara grape and
that splendid climber, the trumpet-vine.
At one end, by the house, is a small terra cotta wall-fountain
108
THK PKRCOLA IN* \YINTKK
A MEANS OK PROTI-XT1ON
THE PERGOLA
from Florence, and a convenient bench; at the other the pergola
broadens into a square tea-house with old wooden seats in the
corners, a stump for a table, and in the centre a spikenard from
the woods, growing in one of Nature's jardiniere*.
To the north a narrow path leads from this end of the pergola.
THE WOODSY SIDE OF THE PERGOLA
under the lindens and maples, to the kitchen garden not far away;
while on the west another path lined with meadow-rue, columbine,
and the spikenard, connects with the service road and cottage and
upper garden.
On the woodsy side of the pergola grow the golden glow, and
plumed poppy, the tall Eulalia grass, and the plumed ravenna reed,
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OUR CO i: X T R Y H () M E
which my grandmother used to call ribbon grass. Here are the
scarlet balm and wild sunflowers and ferns and brakes of every
variety, and wild lilies where they like, the old wood lily and the
vellow Canada, the Turk's cap, and the Carolina, the Grayi and
the Klegans. Nearer the house are the bane- berries, both red and
white, the ginseng and columbine and Jack-in-the-pulpit, mixed
with violets and hepaticas and asters and golden rod, all blending
imperceptibly into the underbrush of the thick woods.
On this side extends the laundry-yard wall. What a time I had
trying to find a spot wherein to dry the clothes! It must be in
the bright sun and yet hidden in a corner; it must be close to the
house yet not visible from it. In our dilemma one daring soul
ventured to suggest a steam drying machine! In the country! On
a seventy-two acre lot! No, I scorned such a solution; with the
Constant Improver's fertile brain, I knew in time the right place
would be found, and found it was. All housekeepers will appre-
ciate my satisfaction when I was given a grassy space flooded with
the southwest sun and enclosed on the east and north by a wall six
feet high. The English have learned the beauty that lies in long
surfaces of wall, and do not hesitate, even in small estates, thus to
enclose the space necessary for working purposes. This rough
plaster wall, extending from the kitchen-house some fifty feet to
the north and topped by heavy brown timber, had at its southern
end a dear old-fashioned latched door of rough brown planks,
bound together with long iron hasps. On either side of the door
112
THK DOOR TO THK LAUNDRY YARD
THE LAUNDRY YARD
THE PERGOLA
were inserted bits of plaster heads and the whole wall was soon
draped in the prolific folds of the kudzu vine. The grassy yard
was so bare, so clean, so practical! What was ray astonishment
to discover one morning a thrifty rose vine, climbing vigorously
up in the corner! Now roses are one of ray treasures, but not in
my laundry yard, as thorns and clothes and wind are not a
felicitous combination. I protested, but the Constant Improver
said it was such a sunny corner, he didn't believe the clothes would
get torn. Wouldn't I let it stay for a month and see ? This
sounded reasonable enough, and I gave orders that his clothes
should be hung nearest that sunniest corner. The rose grew
and flourished, it put forth great bunches of sweet blossoms, it
also sent out long stalks; but the Constant Improver as usual was
right, and no damage was done. So now we have a whole row
of roses on the south side of the laundry wall, and the effect is
charming.
On the east side of the pergola lies the hardy border, in irregu-
lar outline. The lawn creeps up to the edge of the brick walk
temptingly in two or three places as if to say, ''Come try my
yielding turf; let your foot sink into the clover deep; come hunt
for the mushroom's fairy ring, and see for yourself how the
violet blows."
Every three years the hardy border is trenched two feet down.
fertili/ed and replanted, the peonies only are not disturbed, nor
the vines, of course, nor the old-fashioned yellow roses. On the
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OUR C O U N T R Y HOME
outer edge along its entire length the yellow jonquils blossom in
the early Spring. Under the bending oak and straight young
maple tree, where the vines did not get enough light to cover well
the posts, we put a high-bush cranberry and a Sieboldei polygo-
num, supposed to be a dwarf, but it turned out to be a verb instead
of a noun, and dwarfed everything within reach of its roots.
This border is an everlasting topic of discussion. Every year
we try something new; it is so tempting an experimental station.
Do the results ever equal the highly colored prints in the seed cata-
logues ? Much less would satisfy us. With a space over two
hundred feet long and from four to six feet wide there certainly
should be room for everything. But we like great masses of color.
Twenty feet of cherry phlox against as many Shasta daisies;
quantities of Sweet Williams and pyrethrums; a big patch of colum-
bines with their varied blooms and finely cut foliage, the old-
fashioned favorite, with the pale yellow variety, and the exquisite
blue, sent to us by a friend from Colorado. It was quite a revela-
tion to us to find seven different species of columbines, thus
prolonging their season from May to September. Gradually they
seem to have been trained to lift their modest heads until one pure
white variety frankly looks up at the sunshine and is not afraid.
One July morning I counted one hundred and sixteen Madonna
lilies rising from the peony clumps, and later the Japanese golden-
banded variety took their places.
All hardy borders should have plenty of white and yellow
116
THE BALTIMORE HKLLE
THE ROOF IN OCTOBER
THE PERGOLA
flowers, they blend with everything else and separate any clashing
colors. The scarlet of the Oriental poppies, the lychnis, and the
salvia need careful management. They should have a far corner
to themselves, in the midst of fine greenery. Along the brick walk
the star of Bethlehem opens to the early sunshine, and the Virginia
waterleaf lifts her cups of nectar to the knowing bees.
At the farther end of the border were sonic curious flat mul-
lein-like rosettes which I watched all one summer, but nothing
happened. The rain and heavy dew rested in great globules on
their thick hairy leaves, the sun shone as encouragingly upon them
as on the blossoms of the yellow cliamomile close by, but it was
not until the following year that my patience was rewarded. In a
night, apparently, a tall spray some two to three feet high suddenl y
shot from the middle of each rough rosette, bearing graceful rows
of curious long-lipped creamy flowers, and the battle of the bees
began. This white salvia is most amusing, such masking of
batteries, such bombarding of pollen; and, at the close, both
parties are victorious.
How many blue flowers we find in this hardy border! The
Greek valerian, sent by a dear friend from the White Mountains,
has taken kindly to its new home, and in the middle of May fifty
great clusters of delicate blossoms greeted us at once. The whole
tribe of larkspur is a delight. To our surprise even the annuals
sowed themselves this year under the sweet-brier bushes and put
forth great stalks of pure pink the exact tone of the roses above.
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OUR COUNTRY HOME
They grow also in deep purple and pale lavender and greenish
white; while the perennials in immense long spikes of indescribable
pinks and blues, and pure blues, and blue-and-purples, blossomed
gayly twice during the season. The Chinese is perhaps my
favorite, the color is so pure and it lasts for days. The Canter-
bury bells are another joyous family, from the baby harebells
faintlv tinkling in the grass to the ten-foot stalks of the pyramidal,
blue and white and gaudy. The rampion in the herb garden is a
humble relative, and the Chinese bellflowers both blue and white,
single and double, carry on the family characteristics. The vero-
nica too is a most exquisite shade either in the tall or dwarf species,
and keeps green after even ten degrees of frost.
Fortunately we are allowed to cut flowers from the hardy bor-
der, and the Constant Improver looks most picturesque, though
quite unconscious, as he saunters down the shadowy walk laden
with great stalks of blazing star, or leopard's bane, or the obedient
plant whose blossoms stay whichever side of the stalk the wind
or the mischievous boy may place them.
The pergola is a favorite racing stretch for our boy visitors.
One, two, three, and away from the stone bench to the goal, the
stump at the farther end. The young girls in white frocks, their
amis about each other's waist, exchange confidences, as they
stroll demurely back and forth: the shadows from the vine-hung
rafters touch them gently as they pass. Even our "most grave
and reverend seigneurs" I find pacing up and down the moss-
THK I'KRGOI.A BROADENS INTO A SQl'AHK TEA-HOTSE
AT ONE END IS A SMALL WALL FOTNTAIN
THE PERGOLA
edged walk, drinking in the fragrant air of early morning. Some-
times they are nature-loving " seigneurs " and come in with bunches
of " yellow daisies, " as they eall the lance-leaved coreopsis which
apparently grows wild in every spare corner, the whole length of
the hardy border.
Down through the pergola comes every morning the kitchen-
gardener laden with his baskets of freshly gathered fruits and vege-
tables. If the children are near, they rush to meet him begging
a few strawberries or raspberries for their doll's tea-party on the
stone bench under the Florentine fountain. Every one knows how
hungry dolls get about the middle of the morning, and here are food
and drink in one. Such an opportunity must not be neglected!
The only thing which one very conventional lady could find to
admire about our place was the smooth acre of turf which lay at
the back of the house and was bounded by the hardy border of the
pergola on the west, and the woods on the other two sides, making
the foil, the contrasting element to all our wildne<-.
Not but what we had pleasures and pictures on the lawn too.
Could anything be more graceful than the squirrel's leap or the
sweeping Hash of the tanager - In early Fall the marigolds and
salvia. rilling in all bare spaces along the lumly border, are a favor-
ite field for the humming-birds, and the Xew England asters' rich
purple attracts the white butterflies by the hundred. With what
keen pleasure we watch the rhythmic ^wing of the long rake as it
gathers into heaps the freshly mown grass, or the slow moving
of the low latticed leaf-cart on its broad tire-!
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OUR COUNTRY HOME
After a rain in October, indeed during it, if possible, the sower
with his big bag of grass seed under his arm appears at the end of
the pergola and, stepping on to the lawn, slowly crosses it, back
and forth, throwing in graceful curves the clouds of fine grass seed,
hunting out the brown spots whore the dandelions have flourished
and carefully avoiding the mushrooms cropping out in all sorts of
unexpected places. Finally the bag is empty, turned inside out
with a parting shake, and the old sou'wester and slouch hat dis-
appear slowly down the winding path, in search of further work.
Somehow, few of our guests seem to feel its importance when I
announce the great events happening in our daily existence. For
instance, when I exclaim, "The small thrushes in the long-path
nest sailed out into the world to-day, " or " There are ninety-three
blossoms on that one spray of crimson ramblers over the south ter-
race wall," or ''The first monkshood opened this morning," our
visitors politely answer: "Indeed!" but I can feel their thoughts
are wandering. Only a few really enter into our inner joyous
eventful life, where each day brings forth a revelation and a miracle.
CHAPTER IX.
THE GRAVEL PIT.
FROM the lawn behind the linden tree a winding eastward
path, thick with low underbrush and carpeted in Spring with
violets and liverwort, leads in and out among the big trees, across
the roadway, through the Iris Glade, to the Gravel Pit. Every
May all wood paths have to be cut, for the wild-flowers take special
pleasure in open spaces, and one can hardly walk without stepping
on some treasure of the wilderness. The paths are made by
swinging a scythe from side to side. The Constant Improver
chooses the Avay, then conies the scythe, and I as Ruth follow,
gleaning my precious harvest for the household vases.
The iris glade is a feast of color, from late April through May
and June and July, until the early part of August. The different
varieties are planted side by side, so that when the earlier ones
fade, the next to bloom straightway take their places. The Ger-
12.5
OUR COUNTRY HO M E
man. the Spanish, the English, the Japanese, with their wonderfully
varied combinations of purple and yellow and brown and white.
how indescribable they are! What impression could a blind per-
son get from the technical description of an iris? Take one of
the commoner species, the Sibirica: "Limb bright lilac blue:
outer segments one and one half to two inches long, with an orbic-
ular blade graduallv narrowed to a slender chnv. veined with
bright violet, whitish toward the claw: inner segments shorter,
erect." Could the inadequacy of language go further? In and
out of the grassy hollows, following the windings of the brook on
either side, these brilliant blossoms extend for about two hundred
feet. Over nine thousand bulbs and rhizomes were planted and
they increase from year to year. In our imagination vast field-;
of fleurs-de-lis stretch before us, and we stand in ecstasv amoii"-
their gorgeous velvety blooms.
On the north, where the brook makes a sudden turn, thick
plantations of sumac hide the gravel pit. This was once a hole
in the ground, the worst kind of a hole in the ground, one with
steep ragged edges, where the sand had fallen away from the root-
lets, leaving them to hang helplessly and move restlessly in the air.
A rutty, ugly road led into the pit from the main avenue, and the
water lay, a dismal pool, some six feet deep, over its muddy bottom.
We had taken over five thousand cubic yards of gravel and soil out of
this gravel pit, leaving an excavation about seventy by one lumdivd
and fifty feet, and about eighteen feet deep. We looked at it from
126
IX AXn OUT OF THE GRASSY HOLLOWS
THE IRIS GLADE
THE GRAVEL PIT
all sides, and every time we looked it seemed more hideous. Half
a dozen stumps partly submerged, struggled to put forth a bit of
greenness. All about the high banks, big trees gazed pityingly
down upon the desolation below, half bending over as if in an
attempt to cover its unkempt state. Here huge thistles towered,
the ragweed flourished, and the burdock grew six feet in height;
long blackberry branches clambered and twisted, and the plantain,
ever faithful, industriously struggled to cover as much as possible
of the rudely disturbed soil. Nature, if left alone, would in twenty
years, possibly in ten, have made this an attractive spot; why not
examine her methods, find out what she would do, see how she
does it, and try it ourselves at once ? The Constant Improver was
charmed with the idea.
We spent many days in preliminary study and at length decided
on our plan of work. First, tile had to be put in so that there
might be no stagnant water. The whole bottom with the ap-
proaches at each end was ploughed up, and the land graded in a
gentle sweep. We watched with deepest interest the scrapers
transferring the soil from one part of the pit to another. We ad-
mired the strong horses tugging at the call of the men. " Git-dap,
Maud!" one would cry and the feminine leader would respond
nobly, bending her utmost energies to the task. Over and over
again, backward and forward, went the horses and the shovels.
It was many a day before the ugly old rutty road became a soft
hollow, thick with green clover, and bordered with brakes and
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O U R COUNTRY II O M E
blackberry vines. A footpath through the middle led to the
gravel pit itself.
After the bottom of the pit had been filled in about four feet,
three sloping landslides were made, one on the east and two on the
west, irregularly arranged as if in some storm they had slipped
down from the steep overhanging sides. On these, huge boulders
were placed, just as they once lay half buried in the soil, a part of
the glacial deposit which swept down from the Lake Superior
region in bygone ages, bringing curiously wrought limestone and
rounded granite boulders to this rich, stoneless prairie.
The only native evergreens on the place when we took posses-
sion were two small cedars about ten feet high; these we carefully
protected during the building operations, as one happened to be
close by the cottage and the other at our own front door. Later
we supplemented these by a young plantation of white pine and
spruce as well as cedars, on the western boundary, and here in the
gravel pit, among the boulders, we planted more cedars with dwarf
pines, junipers, and spruce. Here also we found room for some
laurels as an experiment, and a native cactus ; Leucothoe, Cates-
baei, whose dark green leaves are edged in November with a rich
plum color; the Andromeda floribunda; the bright little partridge-
berry; the rattlesnake plantain, and valerian, both white and pink,
which sprawls over the ground delightfully and keeps green into
December. All through Touraine this great vine-like plant covers
the ruined walls and bare rocky hillsides. I remember particu-
130
WHKHK TIIK BROOK MAKES A SUDDKX TURN
THF. i. VXD <;R.\DKD i\ .v GEXTLE SWEEP
THE GRAVEL PIT
larly, over the moat at Chenonceaux and on the old ramparts of
Luynes, its masses of ivy-like branches with many shades of pink
and white blossoms.
We brought to the gravel pit all manner of ferns, from the tiny
sweet-scented shield-fern to the huge brake from the swamps, also
wild columbines, by hundreds. We put in two hundred and
fifty cardinal-flowers raised in the green-house from seed, as we
wanted color at once; the blossoming stalks grew two feet high and
made a brave showing. We expect they will seed and give us a
yearly account of themselves but noun verrons.
Lower down in the hollow we planted the meadow rue and
ribbon grass; opposite, the pink lady's-slipper, two hundred
bulbs; we even transplanted budding fringed gentian from the
swamp ten miles away, and it did well and seeded, but where,
only the future can tell. Beyond came tall grasses with plumy
blossoms in October, the bamboo-like donax reed, and the cow-
parsnip. It is shameful that so effective a cluster of flowers, so
richly decorative a plant with its acanthus-like leaves should be
cursed with such a name.
Above on the east the barberry bushes, red-stemmed dog-
woods, the wild gooseberries, and linden clumps, the polygonum
Sieboldei, and young hickory shoots looked down in approval at
our work. The hickory bough in the springtime, with its bursting
buds, its rich variety of tones, and its curiously folded leaves, is
like a bouquet of wonderful orchids.
133
OUR ( U X T R Y H O M E
On the highest part of the bluff, at the west, a cyclone has,
apparently, broken down one of the big trees about twenty feet
from the ground, and in falling it has caught another smaller tree,
making a tangle of roots and stumps and branches which we
planted all along its seventy feet with trumpet-vines and wild grape.
THIS CYCLONE-LIKE EFFECT
It requires only a little imagination to see the swinging green cur-
tain and orange bells which soon will still further shut in this se-
cluded spot. I am sure in five years it will be difficult to convince
people that any part of this cyclone-like effect was artificial, that
actually with chains and pulley we hoisted that lower tree, to be
crushed down by the higher one, most carefully marked and cut
and pulled over to a special point.
134
HCGK UOrLDKKS \VKKK PLACED
THE GRAVEL PIT FINISHED
THE GRAVEL PIT
It is so quiet here that the birds are perfectly at home. The
scarlet tanager sweeps down to drink under the water-tap left
purposely aleak, the oriole calls from her swinging nest and the
white-throated sparrows flutter among the sumac bushes. In Sep-
tember the warblers arrive in flocks and hie them to the curled-up
leaves of the linden, and the goldfinches are busy with the aster
seeds. The nuthatch runs up and down the fallen tree trunk and
turns his head with many a pert inquiry as to my intentions; but I
sit perfectly still, restraining my excitement when the redstarts
flutter down close to me, or even when a woodchuck slowly emerges
from behind a boulder not far away. Scattered about the rocky hol-
low all kinds of wild sunflowers and black-eyed Susans are planted,
and here in early Spring the poet's narcissus nods to the violets
both yellow and blue. The lobelia and the golden-rod, the thimble
weed and the catnip, cinquefoil and agrimony, the wild pepper-
mint and the figwort, each has its bit of earth; and at the north a
small buckthorn grove leads to the narrow path straight up the
hillside, into the deep, wild woods.
CHAPTER X.
OF SHRUBS.
IN beginning most country places the first thing to be done after
the water system is in and the land graded is to plant trees.
We did not have this to do; on the contrary we had to cut them
down; but we had to plant shrubs. The whole two acres between
the house and the lake was to be a shrubbery, with grassy paths
between, and everywhere along the edges of the woods and the
borders of the lawn there was to be a wild tangle of shrubs.
We did not wait for the house to be built, but enclosed the site
with a temporary fence, so that all building material might be
kept within those limits, after which we went on to complete our
planting. Every bush in the shrubbery was selected with direct
reference to the needs of the birds, every one must be fruit-bearing,
so that during the entire year there might be a constant succession
of berries. From the red-berried elder in May, to the Virginia
138
ENCLOSED THE HOUSE SITE WITH A KEXCE
THE SHRUBHEHY
OF SHRUBS
winterberry at Christmas, and the sea buckthorn in the early spring,
there must always be a granary for the feathered folk.
The Man of Many Maps injured our feelings sometimes by his
ruthless slaughter of worthy objects, but he entered into our ideas
in regard to the wildness of the place so heartily that an experienced
MOSTLY LABELS
farmer upon contemplating the finished product, was overheard to
say : " Some folks has queer taste, look at the house, a reg-
ular nigger's cabin, with a front yard full of weeds ! " Did this affect
our enthusiasm ? Not the least in the world. We gazed at our
stubby little shrubs from one to two feet high scattered through the
long curving beds, at our grassy paths mostly weeds then
141
OUR COUNTRY HOME
about twenty feet wide, for we knew the expansiveness of the grow-
ing shrub. Each year taking a foot at least from the sod, the
weedy spaces would soon resolve themselves into green alley-ways
between tall overhanging bushes; and when this desired effect was
accomplished, then, if too crowded, the plantations could be
thinned out by transplanting.
There is one shrub on the place which strangers are sure to ask
about, and that is the sea buckthorn. It deserves to be better
known, at least in the West, for it adapts itself readily to our fresh-
water lakes. Its brilliant orange berries, clinging close to the stem
all winter and ripened by frost, form a tempting feast for the first
catbirds and robins. Its silvery gray foliage makes more vivid
the rich greens of the forsvthia and aralia pentaphylla planted
close to it. On the other side a mass of wild olives eighteen feet
in height reflects in deeper tones the grayish note of the buckthorn,
while across the path the thick leaves of the mountain sumac shine
in the sunlight, gorgeous alike when green, or in vivid autumnal
tints. Beyond, a clump of rosemary willows flanked by the
delicate tamarisk leads to the huge Wisconsin willow overhang-
ing the water.
Along the shore path on the north, is a tangle of wildness,
mostly thorny things, with a tracery of brambles all through, which
leaf out early in the spring, making green curves of color amongst
the dark stems of the w r ild olives. Here the sweetbrier grows in
high towering sprays, with its rival the prairie rose, the dog rose,
^--7f m;
A TRACERY OF BHA.MBLKS
THE SKA BUCKTHORN
OF SHRUBS
too, with its stout hooked prickles and splendid scarlet fruit, the
highbush cranberry and the barberry, the winterberry and the
Rocky Mountain plum, the Missouri currant and the low white
Xew Jersey tea. The fragrance of the Rhus aromatica, the bay-
berry, and the sweet fern of Xew England what memories they
bring to us!
By the bridge leading to the island a mass of button-bush grows,
with its white sweet balls. The lythrum's tall pink spikes, and
the yellow iris, the jewel weed, and the red-stemmed dogwood fol-
low the water's edge to the tangle of wild grapes and milkweed,
where the forest touches the lake. Directly in front of the house,
at the water's edge we planted, literally, thousands of wild roses,
the rosa blanda and Carolina, lucida and humilis.
I never can decide which I like the best, the deep shell pink or
the ivory white. I go from blossom to blossom, scissors in hand
trying to make up my mind to cut the very choicest for the vases,
but I hesitate, and the choicest ones remain on the living bush,
while the soft summer breezes waft their delicate fragrance through
every open casement.
My three favorite shrubs are the hippophse rhamnoides, the
aralia pentaphylla, and the viburnum cassinoides, and this in spite
of their names. Of course, women are likely to be narrow, and I
would not be understood as wishing to confine my garden to these
three varieties. But as I look over the graceful lines of the planta-
tion, my eyes rest gratefully on the orange fruit and soft gray foliage
145
U R C O U N T R Y HO M E
of the buckthorn, the vivid green of the aralia and the thick-leaved
withe-rod, whose berries change from white to rose and deepen to
purple, while its leaves become vivid scarlet and orange. When I
say these are my favorites, the cut leaf and the staghorn sumacs
seem to wave their feathery fronds in gentle protest. I have no
sooner pacified the sumacs than the forsythias rustle and sway
their pendulous branches, exclaiming: "Ungrateful one, have
you forgotten our glory in the springtime, our sunshine when the
sky was gray, our cool greenness, the whole hot summer through ?
1 must add too a word for my sister, the bridal wreath; surely your
memory is very poor if her lovely sprays have not remained en-
graved upon your very heart. Are you going to ignore the old-
fashioned lilacs, which now in different varieties bloom from May
to July ? Does the scent of your grandmother's mock-orange no
longer charm you ? And where on your list of treasures do you put
the exquisite soft deep rose of the winged-stemmed spindle-tree
and the white plumy seeds of the groundsel bush or the privet,
the full untrimmed, gracefully drooping, rich-flowering privet,
with its masses of blue clustered berries ? What has the barberry
done, your own, and its cousin from Japan, but flowered and ber-
ried and turned to scarlet and gold for your pleasure ? How about
the dogwoods and the roses ? " But here I cry, " Hold ! Enough ! M
It is true, I cannot discriminate, I love you all ! Even the choke-
berries and the brambles, the bush honeysuckle and the Indian
currant with its graceful magenta sprays, but not its cousin the
146
THE HKIDAL WHEAT! I
THE GROUNDSEL BVSH
F S II R V B S
snowberry, no, we have parted company. It is a shiftless and
indolent character with not enough self respect to present a proper
appearance before the world. The lonicera Alberti too, we have
put off in a corner; it deserved no better fate, it had plenty of sun-
shine but it sulked.
Madame Viburnum has such a large and interesting progeny,
and so individual are they, so varied in their tastes and styles, that
when meeting a bush unknown to us we used calmly to call it a
viburnum, or in case a look of incredulity appeared upon the face
of the interlocutor, we changed it to cornus. This weakened our
position as an authority, but still gave us some credit for knowl-
edge. We were like the man who, knowing nothing of horticulture,
became very much interested in planting a bare field of land with
fine shrubs and flowers. When a sceptical friend asked: "Does
Mr. Brown know the names of all his shrubs?" " Oh, yes," was
the reply, "if he gets started right!" So we have to get started
right on our viburnums, for they are a puzzling lot.
We have eleven species, 0) the withe-rod (cassinoides) which
belongs to my trio of favorites, although it has one curious blemish
which I have not found noted in my nature-books; in the late Fall
it gives forth a strangely disagreeable odor, pungent and penetrat-
ing, a worthy rival to that of the motor car; (2) a Chinese variety
(dilatatum) which came to us by accident and which we treasure as
the very apple of our eyes; its leaves turn an unusual bronzy purple
which, combined with its scarlet fruit, makes it wonderfully attrac-
149
OUR CO U N T R Y HOME
tive even as late as November; (3) the nanny-berry (lentago) which
grows wild in the place and near the water has developed into a tree
some t went v feet high: (4) the maple-leaved viburnum (acerifolium)
which is also native in our woods and makes lovely patches of rose
pink in the late Fall; (5) the high-bush cranberry (opulus) from
whose berries we have made delicious jelly, whenever the birds
have left us sufficient quantities; (6) the hobblebush (lantanoides)
which turns a deep claret red, while (7) the Sieboldei keeps its rich
green very late; (8) the lantana which is so gray and rough, it does
not look like a viburnum at all, it blossoms earlier than the others,
and when once settled in a location to its taste develops into a
handsome shrub; (9) the Japanese snowball (plicatum) which
will soon take the place, I hope, of our aphis-eaten variety; (10) the
downy (pubescens) whose foliage changes from purple to deep
red; and (11) the arrow-wood, (dentatum) which has shining blue
berries that the birds love.
In fact they seemed to relish them so keenly that once I was
tempted to taste them. Once was enough ! More puckery, sickish
things it would be difficult to imagine! Although the birds feast
upon the fruits, as building sites the viburnums seem to lack in
favor, quite a contrast to the clumps of tartarian honeysuckle bushes
which are immediately seized upon by the earliest robin or cat-
bird. To raise a hungry family in the midst of those pink and
white juicy globules! No wonder the opportunity is not wasted.
I did not sample the honeysuckle berries, one experience was
150
VIBURNUM LANTANOIDES OR ALNIFOLIUM
VIBURNUM LENTAGO
OF SHRUBS
enough. I prefer to consider them as satisfying to the palate as
to the vision.
When we first took possession of our bit of wildwood, down by
the huge Wisconsin willow which overhung the water stood a
large panicled dog-wood, a splendid great bush some twenty feet
SIlliUBBEKY KDG1NG T1IK LAWN
in diameter, the constant refuge of the song sparrows who had
adopted the neighboring willow-grove for their own. Our idea
was not only to acclimatize the various eastern wild shrubs but
also to increase the number of those growths we already had, so
we put in small colonies of this dogwood, edging the forest in var-
ious places. We planted many of the red-stemmed dogwoods too
and the round-leafed with its light blue berries; the silky dogwood
153
OUR COUNTRY HOME
with its bluish white fruit; the red-osier dogwood which also has
the white berry but bright reddish purple stems; the alternate-
leaved too, which grows into a tree; but the beautiful large flower-
ing dogwood is too delicate for our northern climate.
Along the roadway to the house we spread samples as it were
to tempt the visitor to further explorations into the woods beyond.
The clumps of maidenhair fern took most kindly to the open road,
and even the old-fashioned American elder, finding itself high and
dry on the hillside, took heart of grace and consented to blossom
and put forth its purple berries.
At the farther end of the lawn where the pergola stops, the
white Japanese astilbe, which looks so much like a hardhack, grows
in profusion bordered by the rich blue sal via; then come the
white cascades of the spiraea Van Houteii, loveliest of the shrubs
of Spring. Beside it is the gray foliage of the wild olive contrast-
ing with the rich green of the purple-flowering raspberry, while
next it spread the long branches of forsythia, both intermedia and
suspensa, then hardy hydrangea before the high honeysuckle
bushes which edge the forest. A mass of syringas, both fragrant
(Philadelphus lemoinei and coronarius) and scentless (gordonianus
and grandiflorus) ; with yellow lilies on one side and low Japanese
barberries on the other, balances the big lilac plantation, consisting
of Marie le Grey, Princess Alexandra, Charles X, Louis Van
Houteii, Emile Lemoine, the villosa, and sorbifolia and of course
the common white and violet, flanked by spiraea aruncus and privet
and the quick-growing wild senna with a profusion of cherry and
154
THK SHORE PATH THE FIRST YEAR
THE SHORE PATH THE THIRD YEAR
OF SHRUBS
white phlox. Here in the early springtime under the leafless
bushes, the ground is covered with wood violets, from among which
rise brilliantly colored tulips, an unusual, but most successful,
combination.
At the southeast corner of the lawn against the hooded entrance
we planted a small grove of thorn-apple and wild crab-apple trees,
the strawberry bush and the bladder-nut from our woods, the
maple-leafed viburnum and the wychhazel, carefully selecting those
already entwined with bitter-sweet or wild honeysuckleor the friend-
ly grape. All down the hill beneath them grow violets and hepat-
icas, maidenhair and the meadow rue, wild asters and a dwarf
golden-rod, shutting in the lawn from the roadway below.
On the other side of the steps, the rhodotypos kerrioides
which often dies to the ground in winter, the spiraea Thumbergii
and the Indian currant, always flourishing in sun or shade, the
spiraea Van Houteii and ''that glorified elder," as one visitor
called it, the Hercules' Club, extend to the corner of the south
terrace, where the rosa rugosa from Japan, with its thickly set
prickles and huge scarlet haws, makes a brilliant mass in leaf or
fruit, a feast for the eye in summer and fall.
Part of our pleasure in this country life is to explore the small
nurseries within a radius of thirty miles and to buy from them all
we can, as naturally those plants do better that have been accli-
matized. We found one very interesting little place, only two
acres in extent, devoted to raising evergreens from the seed! It is
157
OUR COUNTRY HOME
needless to state this man was not an American. He had all the
patience and perseverance that long centuries of training have
given our Teutonic brothers, and his fad outside of his business
was ginseng. I suppose the fact that ginseng seed takes two
years even to germinate, and five to seven years to produce a root
large enough to sell, made the progress of the sturdy little baby
pines and spruces seem lightning-like by comparison. We in-
duced him to part with some of his precious roots to renew
their scarlet berries in our glades and pathways. The kindlv,
delicate little wife presented me with " a mess of sweet corn " from
her early stock, apologizing for her tiny neglected flower garden
as she had been in the hospital for weeks. Knowing a woman's
fondness for sweet scents, at the first opportunity I sent her a big
box of rose geraniums and some sprays of white jasmine. She hung
in rapture over the fragrant package and from that moment we
each felt a special interest in the other, for we had each ministered
to the other 's happiness.
CHAPTER XI.
OF VINES.
AT the end of the island where the summer breezes always
blow, where the wild honeysuckle clambers high up into the
overhanging maple trees and the bitter-sweet not only covers
bushes and tall milkweed with its twisted sprays but pops up its
swaying stems all through the grass, beseeching a support, where
the wild grape in tangled masses hangs from the iron-woods and
small poplars, here would be an ideal place to build a rustic
tea-house covered with vines, looking out over the dancing waters.
No sooner said than done all except the " covered with vines ! "
Those vines of all descriptions avoided that little arbor as if it had
the plague. The bitter-sweet at its feet, touching its floor, when
coaxed along with a staple or two, merely withered or refused to
grow. The wild grape clinging to the tree on the east side had no
place in its life for a rustic arbor. We tacked branches of the
poplar, vine and all, to the tea-house roof, but the grape turned
its back and went to the other side of the tree ; we put some better
soil in about the postsand planted woodbines and Japanese clematis
but they only made a stunted attempt at living, until finally we
161
OUR COUNTRY II O M E
learned the reason why. '* Where the summer breezes blow. "-
there lay the secret : a shelter m-uxt be made before the vines could
take hold. The way vines depend on the wind for aid in reaching
and clasping the next support is a curious study by itself. We
planted a clump of dogwood and linden on the southwest side,
THE RUSTIC TEA-HOUSE
whence blew the prevailing summer winds. In a month the wild
grape had tangled itself beautifully about the smooth stems; then
we attached both vine and bush to the arbor. Immediately the
wild grape ran along the roof and hung down from the eaves, and
in a year or two we shall have our vine-covered arbor in spite of
summer breezes.
162
THK WILD GRAPE IX TAXGLEI) MASSES
THE SMOOTH-LEAVED HONEYSUCKLE
OF V 1 N E S
I regret to say that \ve found the poison ivy growing in profusion
on the island. It is a pity it should be so poisonous. No maple
was ever more brilliant than its leaves in autumn, but we con-
scientiously tried to eradicate it. After four years of weeding I
can only acknowledge that its clinging nature has been too much for
us; the only sure way to get rid of it I believe is to turn over the
sod and burn all the roots! In contrast to this pest the bedstraw
family is a favorite of ours, with its long sticky stems and whorls
of from four to six leaflets, and its misty white flowers, like the
" baby's breath." It blossoms from June to August and has a faint
sweet perfume. Later, the tiny burrs are somewhat overfond of
company, but even under the first snow its green leaves peep up
at the daintily dancing leaflets of the cinquefoil. I discovered
the wild balsam apple over some dogwoods the other day; its
three-forked tendrils, its prickly soft green balls and star-shaped
leaves, looked their prettiest, but it too much resembled the wild
cucumber to stand high in our favor.
To our great joy we found the smooth-leaved honeysuckle in
many open spots throughout the woods. It seemed like an old
friend, with its trumpets of cream flowers, its characteristic bluish
leaves, and bright scarlet berries. Near it grew the moonseed with
its twining stems, its clean unusually marked leaf, its delicate
clusters of flowers, and bunches of grape-like fruit. We mean to
transplant this from the wood where it wanders over weeds and
grasses, and see what a little cultivation will do for it. The
166
OUR COUNTRY H O M E
loaves are not eaten by the insects, and remain a fresh green
until frost.
The virgin's-bower pulls itself over the low bushes with its
interlocking leaf stems and turns its delicate starry flowers and
later its great clusters of bearded seed to our admiring gaze until
Christmas-time. We must not forget the wild pink morning-glory
or the rose-tinted hedge bindweed, which when kept within bourfds
are ornamental. But the dodder how perfectly its Frisian
name expresses it " A tangled hank of silk ! " Has anyone a
good word for it ? I shudder when I hear there are ten distinct vari-
eties. We may be thankful that we have but one, and that it is an
annual. It is a parasite of the worst character, for its long brittle
threads wind tightly about the stems of its victim and stifle the
circulation of the sap until the whole plant withers and blackens.
Its masses of tiny white flowers appearing in bunches upon the stem
of the victimized plant resemble those of the poison ivy ; fortunately
it withers at the first touch of frost, but if one is unwilling to wait
for that propitious moment, a lighted torch applied to bush and
parasite is an absolute remedy.
The climbing false buckwheat too I find myself compelled to
regard as an enemy when it invades my dogwood and spiraea
and twines about the aromatic sumac, and flaunts its pale green
blossoms arrogantly above the top of my rarest rose.
The matrimony vine has its good points although it needs a
certain environment to show them well. With proper and careful
166
THE KVDZU THE MIDDLE OF MAY
THE KUDZU IN SEPTEMBER
OF VINES
training and pruning it makes a good screen and keeps green until
December. It flowers too, persistently, even if those flowers are
small and not pretty in color; they have a sort of faded futile look
about them, but their intention of welldoing should be recognized.
The bees certainly appreciate them. Curiously enough our vines
have never berried, but have kept on blossoming until after the
first frost.
I wish some one would write an apotheosis to the kudzu vine,
that enterprising and willing worker, that vigorous and constant
grower which, starting out of the ground about the middle of May,
a weak and helpless shoot without tendrils or clasping leaf-stems,
under the least kindly encouragement in the way of staples or
string, bounds upward and onward over all obstacles, arriving
at the window ledge, reaching up to the awnings, and still not con-
tent until the roof be scaled and it can see what is beyond. I fully
expect, if the season were long enough, that it would drape my
tallest chimney with its ivy-like green leaves and hang its long,
straight, limp strands over the entire length of the house. For-
tunately, nature has so arranged it, in this climate at least, that it
dies to the ground at the first touch of frost. What it accomplishes
in its native haunts in Japan is beyond my imagination! I am
sure it must have been the kudzu vine which the Fairies planted
by the house of the Sleeping Beauty, " and it grew and grew and
covered the house, and still grew into a green tangle in the middle
of the wood, reaching out its long fingers, twisting itself around any
169
O U K C I X T R Y II M E
support, falling over the low bushes, pulling itself to the top of
tall trees, and still unconquered waving its restless arms in the
summer winds, until the next friendly poplar welcomed it."
Small wonder that the Fairy Prince had difficulty in finding her!
In Jack and the Beanstalk too without doubt the kudzu again !
' Jack took a piece of stick and made some holes in the ground
and put in the beans. At dawn he went into the garden. What
was his amazement to find the beans had grown up in the night
and climbed up and up till they covered the high cliff that sheltered
the cottage, and disappeared above it. The stalks had twined
and twisted themselves together till they formed quite a ladder. "
The kudzu is also like Antaeus, who every time he touched his
Mother Earth gained new strength; for at the axils of the leaves not
only do new stems start upwards, but if they touch the ground new
rootlets start downward, and so new plants are formed. It does
not rebel at training nor even at mutilation. I have carried it up
a pier underneath a trumpet vine, cutting off all its leaves until it
had attained a height of twenty feet, where I wished it to cover a
railing. Nothing loath, in four weeks it had covered fifty feet of
that railing. If a column in the pergola looks ragged or the vine
over it ripens early, lo, at a moment's notice the kudzu is ready
to come over and drape it. No child fears the dark more than
does this curious climber. It makes but one demand sunshine.
How it shrinks and shrivels on reaching a shady corner! The
small inconspicuous bunches of pale lilac flowers resembling the
170
OF VINES
pea family come in October, but often the vine is overtaken by
the frost before it blooms. It has a delicate sweet perfume re-
minding one. as does the flower itself, of the ground-nut in our
wild garden.
This latter is attractive, with its five to seven smooth egg-shaped
leaflets and its short, fat, dull, pinkish-brown blossoms in August.
It twines around the willow sapling and sprawls over the fragrant
sumac and admires its own reflection in the water at its feet.
They say it has edible tubers, but woe to any one of an investigating
turn of mind on our small woodlot! Here we found it. and here
we encouraged its ramblings, and it has responded freely to our
fostering care. Belonging to the same family the pulses
is the American vetch waving its restless collection of tendrils at the
end of the long leaf -stems; the lavender flowers form an agreeable
mass of color from May to August, while the veined leaves stay
green through October. We have also the Carolina vetch, and a
creamy white variety which, for some occult reason, is known
as a vetchling.
The wild bean and the hog peanut keep the vetch company
through the late fall. They both have small lilac clusters of flowers,
and at first to our ignorant eyes their three leaflets resembled the
poison-ivy; but soon we learned that these thin bright leaves had
an excellent character of their own, and covered in most attractive
fashion bare ground where nothing else would grow. Who does
not know the bitter-sweet with its orange capsules and scarlet
173
O r R C O UN T R Y HO M E
berries? It twines and twists its small leaved steins over itself if
nothing else is near, and for covering an archway it is invaluable.
The tiny white flowers are fragrant, but the clusters of berries on its
leafless stems against the snow are a delight to the winter rambler.
Besides the kudzu we have to thank Japan for another vine,
the akebia quinata. Its five rounded leaflets appear in May and
keep a vivid green far into the winter. We have not been so suc-
cessful with this vine as we should like, but we know the reason
why. One-inch gas-pipe is the best support for its thin wiry stems.
The face of the Constant Improver was a study when I proposed
placing this horror in one compartment of the trellis on the south
terrace. Gas-pipe! Gas-pipe, indeed! No, the akebia could
die first. But it did n't, it only sulked and made faces and yet
struggled along. After three years, one twisting spray has man-
aged to reach the second story and, after its leaves have ripened off,
makes green the woodbine stalks. For of course we have the wood-
bine, trained on the timbers of the house to the roof, its lovely
purple berries and crimson stems fringing the windows and attract-
ing the catbirds and veeries in September. How curiously it
attaches itself to the walls by little flat, red, sucker-like disks at
the tips of the tendrils ! It has been supposed that it secretes some
kind of cement, for it adheres to smooth surfaces though it prefers
rough ones.
On the boulder wall of the terrace are clumps of the old-
fashioned Halliana honeysuckle, which blossoms more or less all
174
THE AKEBIA QUINATA IN DECEMBEB
THE WOODBINE
() F V I X K S
summer; it is well named, its flowers are so honey sweet; and
sprawling over rose bush and spir&a, over the posts and flower-
boxes, climbing the house-walls in one snowy perfumed mantle,
is the Japanese clematis.
It has recently been suggested that possibly plants have senses,
and perhaps they have. I know they have wills of their own, as
witness my experience with the fragile colnea vine. That first
summer in the big house when the window- boxes looked so bare,
I conceived the brilliant idea, as I thought, of planting in the front
of the boxes some cobrea, which should fall gracefully to the brick
floor, its purple bells all dangling, its curious seed-pods orna-
menting the terrace after the frost had blighted the leaves. The
cobtea was duly planted, and the first fresh shoots were carefully
tied down to the wood. I noticed that instead of hanging down,
they had a tendency to turn upward, frail as the stems were, but
I persisted. Inch by inch Madame Cobrea and I fought; her
aspirations pointed to the heavens, mine were sadly earthly. It
was a lesson to me in more ways than one. Madame Cobaja did
not give up the fight; no more did I. When she found she could
not rise, she did not die, she simply refused to grow at all, and the
entire summer passed without one flower on the cobjea vine and
only a few protesting leaves.
T think perhaps the trumpet vine is our favorite one after all,
so splendidly rich in its graceful growth, so gorgeous its clusters
of orange flowers, so fraught with promise its long beans filled
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OUR COUNTRY HOME
with the brown velvety winged seeds. Although capricious in
this severe climate, even dying to the ground some winters, it seems
to emerge again with renewed vigor in June, ready to make up
for its tardy appearance. Its stiff stems do not take kindly to
training, but by constant tying I have induced it to grow horizon-
tally along the front of those same window boxes, where it blos-
somed and seeded in a most gratifying manner.
Perhaps the nature of vines, or creepers, as our English cousins
call them, appeals particularly to womankind. It certainly is
wonderfully interesting to watch their varied methods toward
success. Apparently the most helpless creations in the vegetable
world, with what skill and grace they manage to get their own way,
and what garlands of beauty and fragrance they offer to the
sturdier inhabitants of the forest that are willing to support them!
CHAPTER XII.
OF WILD FLOWERS.
AS SOON as we came to live in the country we began to learn
the wild flowers by name, particularly those that grew on
our own place. It was a fascinating study. I liked best the books
with plenty of pictures, for some way technical descriptions were
not easy to grasp. The Britton and Brown, as we called it
'' Illustrated Flora of the United States and Canada," by Profes-
sor Britton and the Hon. Addison Brown, as it is known in the
book stores should be in every country house library, so com-
plete is it and with every plant illustrated. No weed was too
insignificant for our list. We had the assistance of kind and
interested neighbors in our undertaking, and when all other sources
failed, on application to the botanical department of the nearest
university we had instant and valuable aid.
I shall never forget our first springtime. The hepaticas grew
in wonderful rosy and lavender clumps paling into white; each
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OUR COUNTRY H () M E
little group above the dead brown leaves seeming more beautiful
than the last. The cold wind did not seem to harm them, but
only in the sunshine would they spread their petals wide. Soon
afterward the bloodroot unfurled its curled leaf and rich ivory
flower, and then came the pert young jack-in-the-pulpit standing
arrogantly under his green or purple striped hood, preaching to us
many a sermon if we would but listen on the cheerful bearing of
discomfort perhaps, for the north wind blows chill in cloudy April.
The wild blue phlox joined him soon, with the anemones and
spring beauties, the bellworts and pussy willows; for it was still
early May. The shore path now was lined with marsh marigolds
brought by hundreds from a neighboring swamp. The ground
was blue with violets next. the bird-foot and the meadow, the
striped and the Canada; the sweet white and the downy yellow
in <juantities led us to the buttercups and wild geraniums, when
the shad-bush gleamed white in the forest.
One spring we found a leaf-wrapped stem about six inches high
in the midst of the maidenhair dell. On searching, half a dozen
more were discovered; they looked like small corn, so sturdy and
fat were their stalks. We watched them from week to week, and
they grew and sent out long tapering leaves alternately on either
side; then at the height of four feet they began to bow gracefully,
and on the under side small tightly closed balls appeared. Still
they grew, until one was six feet high the giant Solomon's seal.
Every year they come in the maidenhair dell, just six of them.
ISO
PIXK LADY S-SMPPKR
GIANT SOLOMON S SKAL,
no more, no less, making in August with their big bloom-covered
black berries an effective picture, against the delicate ferns at
their feet.
In various open spaces throughout the woods were found the
smaller hairy Solomon's seal, and the fragrant star-flowered Solo-
mon's seal, and the wild spikenard, and the twisted stalk.
By the tenth of May the trilliums were there, the dull red recur-
vatum, and the waxy cernuum, but above all the grandiflorum,
white and delicate and wind-blown, an epitome of the springtime.
One autumn we chose a sloping hillside in the deep woods and
planted in careful imitation of Nature's carelessness, some eight
hundred grandiflorum bulbs and waited. Very early the next May
we sought our sheltered hillside^ and there tossing in the sunlight
were literally hundreds of the great white trilliums with their rich
green triparted leaves and exquisite flowers. We hung over them
in rapture, as they grew here and there in little families of two or
three, or separately, reaching out still farther into the forest. Did
we pick them ? We could not bear to, as they last on the plant at
least ten days, turning to pink as they fade. One morning a dear
neighbor appeared at my door carrying a large handful of the
precious white trilliums. " They do not grow in our woods at all, "
she explained : " when I saw such a lot of them I could not resist
helping myself." I hope I smiled bravely. Not that I begrudged
her anything she might like upon the place: it was the sincerest
compliment she could have paid to our successful planting, but I
wished she had coveted our roses instead.
18. 1 }
OUR COUNTRY HOME
By the middle of May the yellow lady's-slipper is nodding by
the woodsy path and lighting up the little hollow where later on
the mandrakes hide under their green umbrella leaves. The
slunvv orchid in great clumps soon follows her taller sister, and a
week later the brilliant yellow lithospermum hirtum appears on
THE SPIKED LOOSKSTKIKK
the water's brink. The squaw-root in curious club-like spikes
thickly set with tight white flowers, grows in clumps all through
the woods, and the wild sarsaparilla is in blossom, for it is not
yet June.
The wild strawberry, the yellow wood sorrel, Robin's plantain,
and the black-eyed Susan first blossom early in June, but this
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OF WILD FLOWERS
month is so sweet with the masses of wild roses, great sheets of
fragrance and bloom, that the woodsy flowers pale by contrast.
By the twentieth, however, the shin-leaf is raising its delicate spikes
of pinkish perfumed blossoms all about the forest, and the tall
milkweed lifts its pink and white hoods to our delighted eyes.
Early in July, the pure white Indian pipe gleams through the
woods, greeting its fragrant cousin the false beach drops; and that
curious little orchid, the small-flowered coral-root, appears with its
. tiny dull purple-brown flowers, followed by the beautiful clusters
of elder-berry, and on the island the blue lobelia. The white
sprays of the flowering spurge dance in the long grasses. What
a time we had finding its name! I was sure it must be a milkweed
from its sticky juice. Curiously enough it was not in my constant
companion, Schuyler Mathew's " Field Book on American Wild
Flowers." If the ends of the stalks are seared with a candle as
soon as picked, it lasts for days; and it combines well with the
cardinal-flower for the dining-room table.
Later in July great masses of spiked loosestrife wave their pink
and purple stalks in the summer breezes, and the water beneath
them blushes into loveliness, and the sky above appears a deeper
azure. The rose-mallows on the other side of the willows blossom
in eager rivalry, and the woods are blue with the tall bellflower.
In August the golden-rod arrives < and great fields of sunflowers
and black-eyed Susans contrast with the Joe Pye weed and the
asters. What a beautiful family the asters are. from the sky-
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OUR COUNTRY HOME
blue variety to the pale lavender of the common wood aster with
its misty seed effects ; the wavy-leaf aster, its pale blue to violet rays
clustering about the yellow-turning-to-brown disks; the daisy-like
purple aster, and the smooth aster high in the dry woods with its
clasping, tapering leaves. The white and the tall white lettuce
stand sentinel-like along the roadways. One can almost hear the
tinkle of their tiny bells, nodding as the bees fly by.
Shall I acknowledge that even the smartweed and the lady's-
thumb have a place in our collection, that the ridge-seeded spurge
makes a delicate covering for the ground where the eglantine lifts
high her thorny stalks, and that even the chickweed is permitted to
spread its carpet of dainty leaves under the sea-buckthorn bushes ?
On the western boundary of the place the woods stop within
about one hundred and fifty feet of the shore, and here, where the
land dips down a little into a hollow, we planned a field of sun-
loving flora like the blue closed gentian, the turtle-head, the frag-
rant white fringed orchid, the old-fashioned butter-and-eggs, the
bouncing-bets, the dogbane, the wild bergamot, the white sanicle,
and her humble sister the boneset, the resin-weed, with all the
cone-flowers, and sunflowers, the heleniums and the heliopsis,
the wild asters in variety, and the milkweeds among the tall swampy
grasses. Here in some mysterious fashion appeared the downy
false foxglove and the fern-leaved and the tall wild lettuce with her
sister the red wood-lettuce, both of which so resemble the thistle in
leaf that the first year I pulled them all up. The Maryland fig-
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THE SPIKENARD
BERRIES BELOVED BY ALL THE BIRDS
O F W I L 1) F L \V E R S
wort, beloved by the bees, and the small modest half-flowering
stalks of the self-heal found their way to this patch of wildness, and
nearer the water the jewel-weed chatted gaily with the Oswego tea,
while the bur marigold whispered airy nothings to her neighbor the
butterfly-weed.
In only one spot did the starry campion show herself, and then
only in a tentative, half-hearted manner as if she were looking
around to see if she liked the place. We left her severely alone,
only protecting her from onslaughts, and now every August we
have a good group of the delicate bell-like flowers, very near our
hooded entrance. The spikenard is another discovery. It shrinks
from sunlight, but give it a shady corner, a damp, narrow bit of
ground against a wall, and it puts forth great beautiful leaves in
drooping, graceful sprays, and large clusters of delicate white blos-
soms which later turn to tiny berries beloved by all the birds.
We have none of the laurel family indigenous here, no rhodo-
dendron or azalea or partridge berry or cranberry or wintergreen.
\Ve have not even the ox-eyed daisy or moss pink or sabbatia or
milkwort or blue vervain. The trailing arbutus grows in this State,
there are legends that it used to flourish in these woods, but too
immy young students, during too many springtimes, had eagerly
plucked it up by the roots "for teacher" or idly carried it home for
a brief life in water. We mean to make it grow again if possible.
We did succeed in carrying it through one winter by covering it
with glass, but the next year it died. A friend has sent us some
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OUR COUNT R Y II O M E
strong young rhododendrons as an experiment. One winter they
have lived through; now we await the coming of Spring with its
alternate freezing and thawing and freezing again. A member
of the family driving in the Adirondacks saw a dainty plant resem-
bling the paint brush, and promptly contributed it to our collec-
tion. We eagerly look forward to its blossom the coming summer
to get more definite information in regard to it.
After we had noted each flower in its season and learned its
two names, at least, we imagined perhaps as far as botany was
concerned we had exhausted our field. Not at all. The late
summer and autumn developed another form of beauty, and we
had the world of wonderful seed pods to study.' What were those
tiny iridescent shot-like berries in bunches on the frail grass-like
stalk only about eight inches high ? No leaves were near, of
course no flower, it was late October. One learns patience in
studying Nature. A careful note was made, and the next Spring
a tiny bunch of greenish white flowers appeared on the grassy
stalk, which was soon labelled the wild leek. In November tall
spikes of curiously grooved stems set with whorls of bright orange
berries clinging close to their sides attracted us throughout the
woods. The strange stems helped us, and we learned it was tlie
horse gentian. It was on the Fourth of July, I remember, we
found one year some dark blue, round, smooth berries on a leaf-
less stalk, about two feet high, the berries were loosely clustered,
of varying sizes and we kept meeting them in our ramblings. It
was not until the next year that we discovered for ourselves
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OF WILD FLOWERS
with the assistance of the leaf and flower that these were blue
cohosh berries.
In a sheltered hollow the very last of October I found a blue
lobelia in blossom near a white clover and belated bit of golden-
rod. At this time of year we look with affection on the strong
NEW KNGLAXI) ASTERS BY THE SHORE PATH
green of the catnip and the peppertnint, the cinquefoil and the fig-
wort. The blue-gray bloom on the blackberry stems contrasting
with the green leaves shading into deep claret, forms a lovely bit
of color along the roadside. And although the thimble-weed's
starry blossoms come in July, now it is like an overflowing
fountain, its fuzzy little seeds bubbling over and clinging to the
brown stems as if afraid to launch into the cold, cold world.
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OUR COUNTRY HOME
Before a mass of rich purple asters hanging over the shore path,
some country women stopped in admiration one morning, until one
exclaimed, " Why, they 're nothin' but wild flowers ! " The rest
followed her retreating footsteps in shamed dismay. What have
the wild flowers done to deserve such scornful treatment ?
When I pass an unpainted little house by the wayside with its
bed of faded dahlias and purplish phlox, I long to go in and ask the
good woman if she sees the possibilities in those clusters of feathery
asters, and the decorative qualities in the yellow resin-weed on the
dusty highway, so near her garden gate. Why does she not culti-
vate the w r ild thorn-apple tree and the haw, both of which should
appeal to her housewifely instincts, as both fruits make such deli-
cious jelly! I wish she could see our golden-rod field, a waving
mass of sweetness in September, which the bees know well! The
high sumacs shelter it, and the pale asters, both white and mauve,
carry the exquisite color scheme on into the depths of the forest.
Tall evening primroses and mulleins lift their delicate flowers to the
lips of sphynx moths and butterflies, and everywhere the bramble
clambers, always beautiful from early Spring's green leaves and
crimson stems through flowers and unripe berries to perfected fruit.
CHAPTER XIII.
OUR NEAREST NEIGHBORS.
WE found our nearest neighbors rather exclusive at first
and not disposed to receive strangers into their charmed
circle, but our circumspect behavior and consideration for their
feelings finally overcame their prejudices, and they deigned to
visit us. even to break bread with us. figuratively speaking, and
some of them became very friendly indeed.
As the little striped chipmunks, or hackees, that darted over
the lawn and from shelter to shelter along the terrace, .seemed the
most difficult to conciliate, \ve began with them. A brass jar
half full of English filberts which happened to he in the house
was set outside and we watched to see whether or not they would
find them,
In less than ten minutes Jerry, as he was soon named, >niffing
along in a jerky, roundabout fashion, had climbed over the edge
OUR COUNTRY HOME
and dipped down for the slippery nuts. After once discovering
them he wasted no time, but stuffed his cheek-pouches, and dashed
back to his home near the cellar window. Over and over again,
until the jar was empty, did he go back and forth. I put out shelled
corn. Again the provident Jerry filled his household bins
until the supply was exhausted, always returning for a final look
into the empty receptacle. I went out and sat about a yard from
the jar, dropping shelled pecans in a little circle around me. It
took half an hour of timid reconnoitring, of sudden dashes back-
ward and sudden plunges forward, before he could persuade himself
that this exceedingly tempting food covered no danger, and that
the objects sitting on the bench near had no harmful purpose.
Nearer and nearer I placed the brass jar day by day and uncon-
sciously nearer and nearer came my neighbor, but with one eye
always on guard; his soul was full of suspicion.
One day I settled myself down for a siege to his affections.
I armed myself with shelled nuts and white grapes and sat motion-
less, the brass jar in my lap. It took him two hours to make up
his mind to trust me. I occasionally dropped an earnest of my
treasures at my feet, making as little motion as possible. These
were eagerly snapped up. I held a nut in my hand on the ground
until my arm was stiff, before he finally snatched it. I placed more
nuts along the bench and up into my lap ; and great was my satis-
faction when I at last felt his trembling, palpitating little body rest-
ing against me, as he gave one deep look into my eyes, before he
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HE HEARS A SOUND OF D ANGER
INTENDING TO CARRY AWAY EVERY BIT OF FOOD IN SIGHT
OUR NEAREST NEIGHBORS
took that dangerous plunge into the jar for food. Once done there
was no further hesitation on that morning; he came and went
with his accustomed regularity between the bench and his home
until every bit was stowed away.
This patient process had to be repeated manv times. Xo
sudden movements were ever permitted on my part, and at last he
learned to sit on my hand and eat, to wash his clean little face
with his dexterous paws, and to scold sharply from my lap at any
intruding mate. I carried a jar to the window-box of my own room
on the second floor, and he in some way divined it and climbed up
the chimney with zest for the food. Sometimes in the early morn-
ing, if the jar was empty, I could even hear a delicate scratching
on the screen to attract my attention. They tell a tale, that once
when I was absent, Jerry was found on the desk in my room look-
ing disconsolately about, although how he got there no one could
discover. Tom, from the east porch, soon found the new and cu-
rious food on the terrace, and immediately followed the example of
his brother chipmunk.
It is astonishing how much they can carry in those expansible
pouches of theirs. We once put eighteen kernels of corn a foot
apart with a peanut at the end of the row, and one saucy fellow
tucked every kernel into his pouches bit by bit, the peanut was
caught by the end somehow, and away he ran with the whole loot.
One of them, " Iris, " because his home was close to the iris glade,
has a wonderful underground system of galleries and chambers,
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OUR COUNTRY HOME
judging by the amount of provender he has stowed there this
season, and I hope he has a dry and well drained storehouse, or
some of his food will spoil. He formed the habit of cracking the
peanuts and extracting their kernels on the spot, which enabled
him to carry sixteen or eighteen at a time. I never saw the others
crack a nut except to eat it at once.
We buy our corn by the sack and our peanuts by the barrel
now, and if the entire quantity Avere placed where the chipmunk
could get at it, he would not stop, I am sure, until every bit was
safely stored in his underground burrow. He is untiring, quick,
and single-minded. When there are no nuts out, he climbs up
the back of the porch chair, places his small paws piteously upon
his stomach and peers into the dining-room as if to ask: "Is
there nobody at home ? Are we to be neglected ? " Must I con-
fess that on warm summer noons, when I am alone, I have my
luncheon in the dog-trot with only a screen to separate me from
the table spread for the squirrels and the chipmunks ? The robins,
the catbirds, and the red-headed woodpeckers help themselves
to the cherries so temptingly displayed, and there is no more
quarrelling than there would be among the same number of young
children if left to themselves.
By mid-November, it gets pretty cold for Mr. Chipmunk. Hav-
ing a home fully stocked with provisions, why should he go forth ?
But the big gray squirrel with his thick winter coat, every hair
tipped with white, comes waggling in bow-legged fashion to the
198
THOSE EXPANSIBLE POUCH KS
HAVING HIS BRKAKHAST
PERFECTLY AT HOME
TIRELESS AND SINGLE-MINDED
OUR NEAREST NEIGHBORS
stone bench. He, too, well knows the brass jar of nuts or corn,
and when the stock gets low he has learned that a blow of his paw
will send it toppling over, spreading in more convenient fashion
its store of food. At first there was great leaping and scurrying at
the sound of the falling brass; but now a mere turning of the body,
hardly an interruption to the feast, greets it. The squirrels an-
beautiful creatures, leaping from branch to branch, making great
bounds across the lawn and sitting in such contented fashion, five
or six at a time, along the terrace at their midday meal. \Y<-
named our first squirrel Mark because one of his ears was slit, so
that I imagined I could always recognize him. I became doubt-
ful about this later, when I found that nearly all squirrels have one
or both ears so cut. As the season advanced I was chagrined to
discover that I had mistaken the sex of my neighbor; but we had
become attached to the name by this time, so we added Hannah,
and Mark-Hannah he no, she is to this day.
We found the old squirrels more difficult to tame than the
chipmunks; but by taking the young ones and keeping them in a
box for three months, feeding and handling them, when liberated
they were perfectly at home and trusted every man. One of these,
Bob, was our special pet; he perched on my shoulder while I
weeded, ran down into my pockets for nuts, followed us through
the woods like a dog, and even crawled into the house, although
that was against the rule. For two years he sat by us at our sew-
ing, ate at our meal-time, and we loved him; but his lack of suspi-
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OUR COUNTRY HOME
cion cost him his life, he was caught in a trap, and we truly
mourned him.
The chipmunk is so much more active than the squirrel that
the latter, despite his greater strength, has little chance in the
race for food. Fortunately there was always enough for all. I
wonder that we do not have peanut patches all over our lawn,
for the care with which the squirrel pats down his nuts would, I
should think, effectively prevent his ever finding them. That we
have not, shows he must dig them up again during the winter.
I have never known gray squirrels to molest the eggs or young of
birds, and as for their driving birds away, look at Central Park in
New York, or the Park at Richmond, and parks in many a smaller
place. It is direct proof to the contrary.
I studied for some time to find out how I could provide a feed-
ing place for the birds which the squirrels could not reach. One
snowy morning I hung a basket filled with chopped nuts and suet
by a long string from a slender branch of the maple tree. The
chickadees discovered it at once, and the nut-hatches flew down
in delight. Up from the snow sheet below stretched Mark the
squirrel. No ; it was too high to get at in that way. Like a flash
he climbed the tree, balanced just above the basket and sniffed
eagerly at the tempting food. The string was too small for him
to clasp. Suspended by his toes he still failed to make the dis-
tance. A perplexed thoughtfulness possessed him as he sat there
on guard, until his tail began to quiver a bit as if in anger, though
202
HAVIX<; HIS I'KTl'KK TAKKN
BOB AT BRKAK1 AST
OUR NEAREST NEIGHBORS
Mark was a philosopher and wasted little time on useless effort.
Suddenly it seemed as if a bright idea had occurred to him. He
carefully reached down to draw the string up. It did not slip ! An-
other turn and yet another in true sailor fashion, and the basket
was held at his level with one tiny paw while he helped himself wit h
the other. It was most cunning, but it defeated my purpose.
Another way must be found. I tried the basket at the end of a
long iron rod only one-sixteenth of an inch in diameter, hooked
over the swinging limb : surely Mr. Squirrel would never trust him-
self to that frail support. It was quite a week before he dared,
but the temptation was too great, and one morning down he slid,
bumping into the basket and scattering the peanuts on the snow
below. Whether I saw him the first time he did it or not I cannot
be sure; but as soon as I did see him, I rushed out to frighten him.
Instantly he scrambled up the slender rod with amazing dexterity.
We greased it with lard, which did no more than lend added flavor
to his feast; and now Mark is in possession and I am wonder-
ing what I can do next to provide my feathered proteges with a
private table.
The woodchuck or ground hog is an interesting creature. He
is so nearly the color of the boulders that if he keeps still in the
open when among them, only his final gentle lope, as you approach
too near, betrays him. I wish he were not so fond of early vege-
tables and even of late seedlings. The other day he took a fancy to
some newly set out columbines, and in three hours all the tops were
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OUR COUNTRY H O M K
gone. He is intelligent, too. and knows traps as far as he can see
them; for him and for Molly Cottontail the only resource is a gun.
One other four-footed creature comes into our woodland with-
out invitation and gets no welcome. Two polecats this summer,
driven from a neighboring estate, took possession of a woodchuck's
hole with its two entrances, a roomy and comfortable mansion
ready to be furnished. Here in the solitude of the forest they lived
peacefully. Perhaps it would not be best to inquire about their
food. We keep no chickens. An enthusiastic but rather ignor-
ant young visitor came in from the woods one morning with thrill
ing tales of a "wild cat all black and white. ' which he had seen,
peering from a hole in the ground. A scouting expedition was
sent out and, later, an armed detachment, with a result that there
were five fewer skunks on earth; but the odor hung over the
forest for hours.
I have learned to endure, even to admire, at a distance, that
natural enemy of woman, the snake. This admiration applies
specifically to the small and innocent garden snake which eats the
aphides on the roses and keeps the spiraeas healthy. In the woods
they frequently dart across the quiet pathways, and for years they
have made a nest in a bed of shrubbery near the lake. This sum-
mer one became so tame that he lived under the south terrace wall,
frequently sunning himself on the top, and apparently not at all
disturbed as I snipped and weeded near him. Being of an adven-
turous spirit he was soon at home on the terrace itself, and even
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'THK CHIPPY is COMI.V;"
THE SOUTH TERRACE WALL
OUR NEAREST NEIGHBORS
meandered over the window-boxes. I felt he was doing such good
work that I must not allow any foolish prejudice to bias me, but
when one morning he was found actually inside the screened dog-
trot, close to the dining-room door, I rebelled; and that one snake
was sacrificed, a victim of overweening ambition.
I often wondered, those first few weeks as I looked from my
window, what that queer-shaped object swimming across the bay
could be a turtle, perhaps; but even to my ignorant eyes the
head seemed much too large, as he turned his pointed nose upward
and his bright eyes looked warily about. It was only a muskrat
doing his daily exercises. His nest remains an unexplored country
to me. Probably the kingfisher knows all about it, for he seems
to be always on guard and his kindly rattle warns the lesser binl>
when danger is at hand.
There are turtles, for we see them often basking in the sun on
the flat boulders near the lily pads. One of them strayed toward
the house the other day. We admired the beautifully colored
marks upon his big body, but kept him only long enough to find
out that he was the Western painted turtle, then took him back to
his happy hunting grounds in the waters of the bay. One morn-
ing in July we discovered one of these turtles laying her eggs in a
hole she had made in the gravel of the shore path. Whether our
presence frightened her away or not I do not know, but after she
had gone we took the four eggs and put them carefully in a big
pottery bowl, covered them with gravel and placed the bowl on the
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OUR COUNTRY HOME
upper porch. We read everything we could find about turtles,
for our ignorance was dense. It would be three months, our au-
thority said, before the eggs hatched. We planned to mark the
young turtles in some way in order to follow their career. The
rain fell on them and the sun beat down upon them just as if they
had not been disturbed in the gravel by the shore, but it all resulted
in less than naught, we had forgotten the one essential thing,
drainage, and the eggs spoiled.
Sitting by the pier one afternoon, in October, looking idly but
with a certain discrimination at the overhanging trees and the low
underbrush, I was attracted by a quickly moving object, darting
from shelter to shelter along the pebbly shore. A low, flat head, a
long, crouched-down brown body, and a round bushy tail fled
under the pier. I waited, my eyes fixed on the other side. In a
moment he thrust his head out from under the timbers and looked
cautiously about, his keen eye watching my very breath. Every-
thing seemed safe, I was motionless, he ran rapidly along the
shore and disappeared around the bay affording me a good
look at him. Yes, without a doubt it was a mink. Here was a sign
of the wilderness indeed. I rejoiced. Did he occasionally regale
himself with freshly laid eggs ? We must forgive him, for his usual
diet is fish, although he also catches rats and mice. When we took
up the pier for the winter we found a great heap of empty clam
shells. Evidently we had uncovered his favorite picnic ground.
Three years later we discovered more about the habits of the
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OUR NEAREST NEIGHBORS
mink. It was always a pleasure to sit on the south terrace in the
fading twilight, to see the sun's last rays touch grass and shrub and
tree, until the water changed to silver and dark gray. At this time
of night the air was filled with the fragrance of the roses, the sweet
(,OL1>-1 ISHIS' JIOMK
ceraniums, the honeysuckles, und above all, the rich scent of the
J~>
jasmine growing close to the terrace wall. One evening in July we
were about to take our usual big chairs under the open sky, when
instead of sweet scents, a dreadful odor greeted us; the guests, at
first too polite to be frank, sat calmly quiet, but the hosts hunted for
the cause. Could our perfect drainage system have broken down ?
OUR COUNTRY HOME
Had an adventurous mouse been caught in a water jar ? No, none of
these things; a sensible mink, quick to adapt herself to new condi-
tions, had built her nest in the terrace drain-pipe near the lake, and
here she had naturally stored a fine supply of dead fish for her
interesting family of four young daughters. We were loath to
disturb so charming a household, but there are limits within which
even the wild creatures of the wood must be kept.
I am very fond of pets, but I never strained my affections to the
extent of including goldfish among them. So it was with rather
a sinking sensation that one evening I received by express a pail
of water with holes pierced in the cover and six small goldfish gaily
swimming around therein. I put them in the fountain in the
formal garden, arranging some flat rocks over the gravel in order
that they might have secluded corners. They did look pretty
under the softly dropping water, with the sun reflecting back from
their golden scales. I began to feel my old prejudices fast disap-
pearing. The Constant Improver brought out a collection of fish
food, and I must acknowledge that our new pets were no more
trouble. When I had to be away I am sure they were never forgot-
ten, as my little maid felt so sorry for them. " They cannot come up
and beg for their food like those fat squirrels and pert young chip-
munks ! " Of course when the Ice King appeared something had
to be devised for the goldfish. We put a cork in one of the big
terra-cotta saucers thirty inches across and, with the aid of gravel
and rocks and sea-weed, made an excellent imitation pond, where,
212
OUR NEAREST N E I G II B O R S
in the dog-trot among the chrysanthemums and the jasmine tlu>
goldfish might think summer had come again.
Although we have formed for ourselves an attractive social circle
among the inhabitants of our wild woods, we have by no means
made the acquaintance of all the neighbors. We trust that our
discreet conduct and recognition of their rights and privileges nia\
in time lead to that complete understanding which is the foundation
of true friendship. For no living organism in this small domain
of ours is too insignificant to awaken our wondering awe as we
perceive, little by little, the habits and daily life of all the creatures
about us. and marvel greatly at their variety and beauty.
213
CHAPTER XIV.
A LINE A DAY.
WHEN we first conceived the happy idea of entering upon a
country life, a dear friend gave me a Line-a-Day Book.
Every one knows it blank leaves, a kind of diary, but with the
pages dated for five years. For any one contemplating such an
experience as ours, this little book should be enrolled among the
necessities. When I look at its pages a series of half -formed pic-
tures floats across my vision, and each day brings a story to my mind.
In mine I noted the first and last appearance of the flowers and
the vegetables, and when they were at their best. I also set down
the coming and going of the different birds, with something of their
habits, as I saw them. That first summer every feathered creature
was to me a bird and nothing more; the only one I knew with
absolute certainty was that wretched imitation, the English spar-
row. How many years I had wasted learning the languages
of mankind, for instance! Here was the whole bird-world
to explore!
Some one has said: "It is the acquiring of knowledge, not
the knowledge acquired, that adds to our happiness." It may be
214
LINE
DAY
so. In either case I saw a delightful field opening temptingly be-
fore me, and after the manner of all converts I rushed into it with
enthusiasm. For example, robins may seem an ordinary fact to
experienced country residents, but when they adopted our house
as their home and established eight nests on as many different
KOBIN S NEST IX BITTER-SWEET TANGLE
window ledges, we felt that we had become one with the wild life
about us. I shall not forget the protesting expostulations of one
prim New England woman who cried, " Did you let them stay ?
The untidy things!" I wanted to take her to my own window
where a robin had used the same nest two years in succession, that
she might see what model housekeepers, what neat and particular
mothers, these same robins are.
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OUR COUNTRY HOME
My Line-a-Day Book always lies on the library table ready for
reference or the entertainment of an idle moment. Although it
has no illustrations it does not lack for pictures. I open it at
random.
April 26 It was a still, cold morning without a breath of
\vind. Not a twig stirred, and the lake was like glass; the song-
sparrows poured forth their joy in the sunlit air, while a chorus of
clear, musical, rhythmic whistles greeted my waking ears. What
bird was it ? This was a new song. I searched the branches and
favorite perches from my open window. To be sure the white-
throated sparrows were hopping about the terraces unconcernedly
eating their breakfast of oats and chopped peanuts with the juncos.
Could they be the songsters ? Yes, there on the swaying rose-
stem was one of the beautifully marked little creatures; I shall
not soon forget my sensations as he looked straight into my eyes
while he opened his tiny beak and deliberately sang me on 3 of his
choicest bits.
April 30 To find the first song-sparrow's nest in the long
grass ! One confiding specimen built in some straw left overnight
close to the garden walk. The straw containing that nest was
carefully walked around and thoughtfully guarded against all
intrusion for weeks, until four small song-sparrows were able to fly
off in safety.
May 2 On either side of our hooded entrance are small
shelves, exactly the right size for a good home. No right-minded
216
L I N E
1) A Y
robins could neglect such an opportunity, and there they built,
slightly disturbed when too much company, in too hilarious a mood
alighted at that front door, but quickly back to their duties when
quiet reigned again. Just above the robins' nests a phoebe found
a shelter and glued her mossy cup against the rough brown rafters.
THK ROBIN'S ARAUCARIA
Another has for three years used the same nest just over the up-
stairs porch, and there are always two broods. Once a baby
phoebe, too young to fly. fell out and such a calling and flutter-
ing! We brought up a step-ladder and, amid great protests from
the parent birds, the Constant Improver picked up the fledgling
and replaced her snugly in the nest.
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OUR COUNTRY HOME
June 5 Hoping to furnish our bare expanse of terrace at
once, we brought from the city our big palms and araucarias.
Later we found that they clashed with their surroundings and took
from the woodsy look of the place, so we gave them all away.
One morning, when the wind was blowing a gale, we moved the
big araucaria, twelve feet high, to a sheltered corner on the north,
close to the coat-room window. When we went to put it back on
the south terrace, the next day, behold a robin had taken possession
and with bill half-full of straws, watched us in apprehension.
Did we carry out our intention ? By no means. The tree stayed
in that cosy corner for over four weeks, and we watched the
entire home life of those industrious birds from the little window
not three feet away. The last one left the nest at half-past
seven o'clock on Monday morning, just as our guests were going
to the train. It was a pretty sight to see his daring swagger, his
outlook on the big world, the coaxing parents not far away, and
finally his courageous start and successful swoop down to a bush,
where a fat grub rewarded his bravery. At one time we were
watching more than thirty nests of various kinds, and a fascinat-
ing study it was!
June 13 We found at last the redstart's nest in a lilac bush
close to the south window of the cottage. They were the first birds
I learned to identify after the robins. It was impossible not to
become acquainted with them, they were so friendly and tame, so
cheerful and busy. And no wonder, with four small I mean
218
THE BIRD BATH
THE BIRD BATH IN EARLY SPRING
A L I N E A I) A Y
large mouths to fill. It was a constant amazement to me, this
seeing a nestling split in two, as it were, when the mother arrived
with food.
June 16 1 watched a yellow-billed cuckoo feeding her three
fuzzy little ones this morning. What a rickety, tumble-down
nest ! It was only four feet from the ground in a honeysuckle bush
at the edge of the lawn. I saw a cuckoo in May and heard her
curious call. There are plenty of tent-caterpillars about to tempt
her to stay with us.
July 2 The humming-bird family down by the greenhouse
are almost ready to fly. In fact, the little ones seem the same size
as their parents, except that their bills are shorter. It has been
most entertaining to watch them. The mother did not mind the
hammering and sawing or the constant presence of workmen within
thirty feet of her nest. To be sure, she was on a maple branch
twenty feet from the ground, and admitted no nearer acquaintance,
as the Constant Improver found to his cost when he climbed a
ladder to get a closer view; she darted at him viciously, and he
retreated before she could strike. We took our camp-stools and
glasses and watched the tireless industry of this wee creature.
What is she bringing now ? Surely not one of those hideous
seventeen-year locusts almost as big as herself! It is the locust!
She dashes him against the branch until he has become pulp-like,
then tears him to pieces and stuffs incredibly large mouthfuls down
the baby's throat.
221
OUR COUNTRY HOME
July 7 The oven birds are calling " Teacher, Teacher," in the
deep woods, the great ruffed grouse whirr into the air at our
approach, and melt into the surrounding foliage so completely that
the eye fails to discover them. How wonderful is the unerring
flight of a bird through the thick forest ! Does he touch a twig or
WAITING FOR THE HUMMING BIRDS TO FLT
turn a leaf in his swift motion ? And their silence in the autumn!
They alight not far from you, and you have not heard a sound;
you turn for the glass, and they are gone.
July 8 This morning a red-headed woodpecker came over
to the bird bath and, seeing cherries hanging on the forsythia bush,
helped himself joyously and flew away. Soon after, another ap-
222
A LINE A DAY
peared and he also carried off a cherry in his bill. We began
throwing the cherries in the grass when we heard the birds calling,
and down one would sweep from the tree close by and off he would
go, returning in an instant for more. By watching, we discovered
their nest in the linden tree overhanging the entranceway. The
braver bird, the quicker to learn faith in humankind, I took for the
father, although the markings of the sexes are identical. A few
days later we saw two young ones as big as their parents but with-
out the red heads ; they clung in a crotch of the linden and the father
and mother fed them, turn and turn about. The week after, hear-
ing a great scolding from the suet -tree, we rushed to the window;
there was the red-headed woodpecker, and there were the cherries,
but what was the trouble ? No enemy was in sight. The mother
bird threw herself from side to side on the tree calling vigorously,
her mate joined her, and they took turns in calling. At length, fully
twenty minutes later, timidly, but with a rush, one of the young
ones appeared on the next tree, soon followed by the second, more
afraid to be left alone than to brave the unknown perils at the
other side of the lawn. Much pleased, down flew Papa Woodpeck-
er, but he did not touch the cherry, he waited . That was too much ;
no young one was going to feed himself. Mamma Woodpecker
called and she flew down and looked up at them, saying as plainly
as a-b-c : " Do come down and get this fat fruit ! " But the chil-
dren still clung sturdily to the tree-trunks, refusing to budge.
Papa took a cherry up to them and there were sounds expressive
223
OUR COUNTRY HOME*
of great joy. " Now you know how nice it is, you will come down
and help yourselves like good children." And little by little, from
one tree to another, to the bush, and finally to the grass, down
came the babies and were glad. After that, for many weeks, we
had the whole family on our hands. They would snatch the fruit
THE THRUSHES' NEST IN THE TRIANGLE
on the terrace floor within three feet of us, and they splashed in the
hollow boulder and enjoyed themselves hugely. One pair of red-
headed woodpeckers stayed here all last winter of course, I am
not sure that it was this same one.
July 9 The wood thrushes sing morning and evening in the
deep woods; theirs is the loveliest song of all. I found the nest
A L I N E A D A Y
to-day, about nine feet from the ground in a small hickory, twined
with bitter-sweet, close to the path. With my long-handled mirror
I watched these little thrushes daily, waiting to see them leave the
nest. Finally, one morning they were so lively that I took my
small folding stool and glasses and sat down, note-book in hand,
not more than six feet away. It was the last day of July, and hot.
The sun was shining brightly and there was little wind, in fact a
most propitious moment. For three hours I sat quiet while the
small thrushes were being fed, while they balanced themselves
on the edge of the nest, nibbled a leaf which swayed temptingly
near, preened themselves, rested quietly, called eagerly, and at
last sailed forth, one at a time, to a friendly branch near the ground.
When I left them the mother had them all together in a secluded
corner and was teaching them already to hunt on the ground for
their food.
July 12 This afternoon just before dinner two baby chimney-
swifts fell down into the dining-room, followed by the exquisitely
wrought nest. What were AVC to do with them ! They were l.arelv
fledged, and cried continuously. One we put back up the chimney
as far as we could reach, and he really did climb up; his call grew
fainter and fainter until a soft whirr of welcome greeted him and
reassured us. But the other seemed weaker. The only thing I
could think of to feed him was milk, so we procured a dropper from
the medicine closet and proceeded to administer this healthful
beverage. He spluttered a good deal but he swallowed it, and we
I R C O U N T R Y H O M E
began to be more hopeful as his cries ceased, but in the morning,
whether from cold or from hunger, the poor little chimney-swift
was dead.
Aug. 1 Even when working with my back to that tempting
window a shadow darts across the sunlight, and before I can reason
1 have turned and am looking out. Was it a falling leaf or the
downward flight of a wild bird ? How exquisite the poise of the
wide-winged hawk overhead, the almost imperceptible turn, the
lift, and the graceful sweep away into the azure ! Is he an enemy
to the poultry plant? We do not keep chickens; we look upon
him as a thing of beauty only.
Aug. 13 A rainy day, not our usual brief thundery deluge out
of the northwest, but a soft patter of drops on the brick terrace
when I awoke, and a smooth gray curtain all over the sky. How
pungent the perfume of each aromatic shrub and thirsty leaf! It
is as if the earth and all it produces could not be grateful enough
for its keen refreshment. Even the birds voice their thanksgiving;
the song-sparrow trills forth his exquisite notes, and from his hang-
ing basket the oriole calls in delicious melody.
Aug. 24 What peculiarly attractive birds the wax- wings are!
TKey sit quietly and in so polite a manner that you may examine
their neat and polished appearance. They have exactly the same
taste in dress as the high-class Japanese, exquisite grays with a
rose tinge, lovely browns with the sunshine almost coming through,
a spot of red, a touch of yellow. Every year a colony nests in the
226
MASTKK WAXXVIXC; AND HIS XKST
A LIN E A I) A V
poplar grove on the island. It is a tradition on the countryside.
This year we found a couple of cedar birds had gone to housekeep-
ing close to the path, only about ten feet from the ground. As the
nest was placed in a tangle of wild grape, it was difficult to push
the long-handled mirror in far enough to see the downy bodies of
the babies. We watched the feeding, the different approaches of
the parents, and the cleaning of the nest, this last being usually
done by Madame alone.
We went in solemn procession at about half-past nine one even-
ing to see where the cedar birds slept. The man with the step
ladder first, the Bird-Lady carrying the lantern, and I, tagging on,
io-norant but enthusiastic. How unfamiliar everv bush and tree
O
and vine looked in that flickering light! I began to have a fell<>\\
feeling with the wide-eyed little maiden on the stairway " where
bears are so liable to follow one." If a rabbit had leaped across
the path or an owl hooted, I know I should have turned and fled to
the safe shelter of the house; but everything was perfectly silent.
Down the path and over the bridge, quietly creeping up to the
poplar tree, we turned the light of the lantern upward. There
sat the father and mother birds on the nest, keeping the three little
ones warm beneath them.
Later on there was a big wind storm, and in the morning but
one little cedar-bird was left in the nest. We could hear the other
babies calling like locusts, in the grass, but find them we could not;
we finally made up our minds that we must take pity on the neg-
229
OUR COUNTRY HO M E
lected one and try to bring it up by hand. We saw in the nest a
curious seed and hunted high and low for this food. We tried the
wild grape and the woodbine berries, and the dogwoods and vibur-
nums, at least four species of each; but this seed had a different
shape. At last we experimented with the sweet berries of the
spikenard and the astringent wild grape. Master Waxwing oblig-
ingly swallowed these, but the Concord grapes he devoured with
exceeding relish. He was very cunning, and without a particle of
fear. He curled his small toes around my finger and looked at his
new home in the dog-trot with quite an air of proprietorship, and
it was such fun to feed him. We could keep him quiet only by
covering him with a tiny cotton quilt. After his nap he would
fairly shout for food. Even the Constant Improver was pressed
into the service, and Cherry, as we named him, had plenty of atten-
tion. The Bird-Lady was to take him to her home where she had
other bird babies, and in the spring he was to come back to be freed
on the island, there to find his kinsfolk. Alas and alack for human
plans! Poor Cherry met with a sad end. In some way, he fell
on the azalea bush while helping himself to the aralia berries near,
and a twig pierced his eye.
Oct. 12 The nuthatches fearlessly dart quite near to the
squirrel or alight on the terrace, just below the bench. I wonder
if these birds store away food. It does not seem as if they could
eat the amount I have seen them take away in an hour. Seven-
teen times, at intervals of from one and a half to three minutes,
230
A LINE A DA Y
they have returned to the stone bench to carry off a whole peanut
each time. Occasionally the nuthatch rests from his labors and
permits himself a little needed refreshment. He carries his nut in
his bill to the heavy bark of a ne'^nboring oak where he fits it in
tightly, then strikes it smartly with his bill until he can get at the
kernel. If pecans or peanuts are not available, he will eat corn, or
even crackers; but he loves the suet hung against the tree, close by
the terrace. So does the hairy woodpecker, who awaits his turn
in most gallant fashion; but not so the haughty blue-jay. With a
caw of warning, he darts at the dainty morsel, whatever it may be,
and woe unto the creature who gets in his way! He sweeps down
to the squirrel's brass jar, cocks his head on one side, flirts out one
peanut after another until he finds one to his taste, hastily swallows
it whole, snatches another, and is off to the garden to bury it.
Generally his mate follows, selecting her food for present emergen-
cies first, and eating it on the tree close by, before she assists in the
storing process. The pair carry away easily fifty nuts in a half-
hour. We do not see the blue- jay in the summer; indeed, we do
not encourage his settling near; but in winter we cannot begrudge
him his share of our dainties. There is enough for all. He is
such a splendid-looking creature, and I actually like his "swing-
ing-gate" call.
Oct. 25 Down by the shore in a forsythia clump to-day I
heard a low warbling song and looked for a stray canary, but the
note was too subdued. The gardener said it looked like a linnet,
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OUR COUNTRY HOME
but his English training did not satisfy me. In spite of patient
search with the glass no bird was to be seen, but every now and
then came that lovely trilling song. Finally ray curiosity drove me
too near, and a brown bird flew into the air, its white tail-quills
betraying it at once the vesper sparrow. Still later I heard his
sweet notes, until the snow flurries of December drove him to
warmer climates.
Nov. 3 What a joy to welcome the winter birds to our out-
of-door dining-room ! Quite a luncheon party to-day, four squir-
rels, two chipmunks, three nut-hatches, two blue-jays, one little
brown creeper with his insect-like call, a downy and a hairy wood-
pecker, four chickadees, and four vesper sparrows. What a good
time we had !
Dec. 4 The golden-crowned kinglet is another winter visitor.
One can hear his sharp insistent notes among the berry bushes and
see him hopping along the bare tree boughs. He finds plenty to eat
for himself and scorns my tempting table, but he is a friendly little
bit of sunlight, and permits me to look at him at close quarters.
Jan. 11 The chickadees are too cunning! One alights on
the basket hung close to the dining-room window and, looking in
at our eager faces, sings a quaint little song before hopping down
into the bottom for the nuts. Another carries off a peanut, shell
and all, to the tree branch near, where she cracks it by striking it
with her bill, extracts the kernel and, dropping the shell, flies
away with her feast. Still another works many minutes over a
234
I
-t.
'^to
*
V*fr.* L %
j, >>-; v ^
THK DOWNY \V()f)l)PKCKKI{'.S W1NTKK Nt.ST
SHO\VING ITS DEPTIf
A LINE A D A Y
peanut frozen to the brick floor of the terrace. How lie tugs and
braces himself on the slippery surface, almost tumbling over at
some particularly hearty blow, then recovering himself, only to sit
down suddenly as his feet slip out from under him! But he is up
and at it again fiercely, now piercing the shell, and at last succeeds
in taking out the kernel whole, and off he goes to enjoy the fruit of
his labor.
Feb. 9 To-night we went out to see where the downy wood-
pecker sleeps. He had been busy excavating holes all through
December, and the one he chose to finish was some twelve inches
deep and about three inches wide, on the under side of a horizontal
lichen-covered rafter in the roof of the pergola, close by the house.
Here he slept, lying so flat on the floor of his dwelling that even with
the aid of mirror and ladder it was almost impossible to see him:
but a few soft gray feathers caught in the bark at the entrance to
the hole betrayed him, and a gentle poke with a stick assured us of
his presence.
Feb. 11 Seven squirrels, two blue-jays, four hairy and a
pair of downy woodpeckers, four nuthatches, six chickadees, and a
junco looked in upon us to-day, incidentally helping themselves to
the chopped suet and peanuts, the corn and bread crumbs, in the
out-of-door dining-room. The tracks of the ruffed grouse are
plainly to be seen in the snow around the ground corn, spread near
the hooded entrance. Here, too, a white-crowned sparrow has
found desirable winter quarters.
237
OUR COUNTRY H O M E
What a study by itself is the flight of the birds ! How different
the outspread soaring of the swallows and the spasmodic opening
and closing of the wings which is characteristic of the wood-
peckers ! And the bird music ! What a revelation to me was the
catbird's varied song! Can one forget the first time the whippoor-
will calls or the wail of the screech-owl in the still night air ? How
bewildering is that wild indistinguishable charm of bird songs to
the uninitiated! It took me years to be sure of even the robin's
notes, and I am still on the threshold of that music world whose
beauty and purity touch one's deepest sensibilities.
CHAPTER XV.
WEEDS FOR DECORATION.
I .1RQM the beginning a certain part of the weeding fell to inv
*- share. Every one was so busy with the first rough work
that no time could be spared for uprooting thistles. Therefore,
although in my heart I really admired the richly cut leaves ami
sweet purple blossoms, I conscientiously dug them up wherever
I found them. Yes, I dug them up; but there was no embargo on
my utilizing them. Arranged in high brown jars along the barren
north terrace, they made a splendid effect. That was another
discovery: weeds made such a fine decoration! Once started in
this direction the field was limitless, and we experimented in all
sorts of combinations.
Now, it sounds like a formidable undertaking to keep seventy-
two acres free from thistles, but I soon learned that they grow only
239
OUR COUNTRY HOME
in open spaces, that they follow civilization, and that there are
none at all in the real woods. One finds them by the roadway,
through the paths and hidden in the shrubbery, but particularly
and always on the lawn. I hope that sometime I may find a sandy
corner where I may let these really attractive flowers blossom in
splendid isolation. I must promise, and I certainly will fulfil it,
to cut off each head before its light down scatters ; but think how
gorgeous that purple mass will be!
I am afraid I am not a systematic person, after all. It is such
joy to wander out in the early morning, fully equipped for any task
that may appear, but not knowing quite what it will be. Suddenly,
close by me, a low note sounds and a new bird rises in swift flight.
I follow blindly until I find myself in a long un visited corner, where
the tropical-leaved burdock with its tall spike of green and purple
balls is just ready to go to seed. I dart at the offending plants,
rise somewhat dishevelled from the encounter, and wander still
onward to new and further experiences in this blessed out-door life.
Two more real weeds I acknowledge, the hogweed, which
it is good fun to pick, the roots come away so easily that in half an
hour you can make a small haystack, and the horseweed. The
former is rather pretty with its fernlike leaf, and there was
some hesitation about relegating it to the dump heap; but it set-
tled the question for itself by taking possession, not only of every
scrap of earth left bare for five minutes, but also of the planted
spaces, choking everything in its way. The second, horseweed, is
FULLY KQl.'II'l'KD FOU ANY TASK
A. VASE OF WILD CARROT
W E E D S F O R I) E C () R A T I () X
absolutely without a redeeming quality. It always seems promis-
ing to do something, to be green, or to blossom, or to seed ; but
it only looks sulky and dissatisfied. Its persistence is worthy of a
better cause.
At the plantain I balked; the little weed-boy must attend to
that and to the long-rooted, thick, radish-leaved dock, witli its
high stalk of rich brown seeds. The gardener looked dumb with
dismay when I brought one to stand against the gray plaster
wall. It was beautiful too, but now I share his feelings, parti-
ally at least, and mercilessly destroy each plant.
How brilliant the dandelion is in the early spring! It carries
the note of the yellow forsythia and the daffy-down-dilly far a \v ax-
along the sunny slopes, and it brings the sunshine to every one
except the gardener, who scowls and meditates upon the useful spud
and the sharp knife of the weed-boy. As soon as the spring bloom
is over we submit to the inevitable, the dandelion becomes a weed
again and must be uprooted. Well we know that, by another
spring, in some mysterious fashion, our sunny slopes will once
more be a yellow glory, and the weed-boy's occupation will begin
again.
Throughout the changing seasons we bring into the house our
flowering and fruiting sprays and try all manner of combinations
for decoration. Whenever a tree has to be cut down, we take
advantage of the opportunity and deck ourselves with the spoils
in true Indian fashion. That tree comes into the house, branch by
243
OUR COUNTRY HOME
branch and bough by bough, and we live for a week in one long
leafy bower of greenery. Always when the lindens are in bloom we
steal half a dozen branches from the bees to lend their sweetness to
our indoor life: the shadbush and wild cherry, the thorn-apple tree
and the forsythia, the blossoming maples and the Hercules' club,
each in turn shares our evenings under the lamplight and fills the
rooms with its fragrant presence. The graceful sprays of the
blackberry are always objects of beauty, whether in flower or
shaded fruit, in green leaf or rich autumnal tints.
In our dining-room, too, the shrubs take turns keeping us com-
pany. The fragrant sumac has a dainty, yellow, spidery blossom
which combines charmingly with cowslips for a May luncheon.
Yellow buttercups and violets in glass receptacles only three inches
high are most effective, and of course the sprays of all the spiraeas
arrange themselves in wonderful forms of beauty. The tiny white
flowers of the rough bedstraw are exquisite with the wild rose; and
the red stems of the elder after the berries have fallen make an
extraordinary effect against the thick white snake-root. Still later
the rose haws blend well with the blue privet berries and dark red
leaves of the aromatic sumac; or the barberries and privet and
sea-buckthorn berries, loosely arranged to show the natural
growth of each, make an equally effective combination. The
sneezeweed, a proud and sightly plant, is exquisite with pale
purple asters. The white silky cockades of the groundsel bush
make an admirable foil for the scarlet sal via or the high-bush cran-
WINDOW BOX FROM INSIDi;
WINDOW BOX FILLED WITH SEED-PODS
WEEDS FOR DECORATION
berries. We bring in long sprays of nasturtiums full of buds just
before the frost comes, and for a month have fresh blossoms and
new leaves in the Japanese basket from which they climb over the
mantelpiece.
A friend said to me in all seriousness the other dav: <% Mv little
GHKAT FKATHKKY UK A 1*5 OF GOLDKX-ROD
girl has been asked to bring to school as many different leaves as
she can. The heavy frost has killed all the flowers. Of course I
know the maple and oak leaves, but aiv tlu-iv any others now?
She is a newcomer in our forest life, but she will learn, because she
really is eager to know. When I showed her from the window the
wychhazel, the Japanese quince, the wild cherry, the privet, the
OUR COUNTRY HOME
syringa, the barberry, and some twenty more varieties of leaves
she was amazed and delighted.
One day, it was the twenty-ninth of November, we discovered
that our window-boxes looked bare In fact there was apparently
nothing in them but carefully powdered and well-drained dirt. I
say apparently, for well we knew the beauty hidden beneath the
surface in the tulip bulbs for early spring decoration; but, as we
wanted some beauty at once, we started forth to see what Nature
could offer us at this inclement season.
The Halliana honeysuckle was green in lovely flat sprays on
the terrace wall, and the Japanese clematis still kept some of it>
feathery fruits, but we wanted something to stand up bravely and
look in at us as we sewed or read by the sunny window. The
mountain sumac offered her bunches of rich crimson berries. Yes;
that would do for an occasional heavy note. The New England
aster spread her starry seed-cups to our admiring gaze. The very
thing! There, over beyond the dogwoods, was a waving field of
great feathery heads of golden-rod. We must have an armful of
them! In the wild garden, too, were tall spikes of the evening
primrose, half-blown milkweed pods, and wild peppermint, brown
and fluted. Just beyond the formal garden, along the path into
the woods, we found the curved cups of the Turk's-cap lily, the
prim flat bunches of the sedum spectabile, the delicate balls of the
boltonias, the brown heads of the cone-flowers large and small, and
in the gravel pit the exquisite white feathers of the pampas grass.
248
THK VARIETY OF TREE FORMS
THE HALLIAX V HONEYSUCKLE IN DECEMBER
AY E E D S FOR DECORATION
Down by the shore were curving branches of sea-buckthorn set
thick with orange berries; nearer the house grew great bunches
of privet berries, while close by the terrace swung the graceful
sprays of Indian currant shading from pale rose to deep magenta.
THE 1XD1A.V Ct'RRAXT
all begging to be used. Could one ask for greater variety or for
richer beauty?
With delight we arranged our treasures in the long window-
boxes, judging them from inside as well as outside, filling in and
rounding out the delicate grouping. How perfectly their autumn
browns and grays harmonized with the velvety surface of the
rough brown timbers and gray plaster on the house! Our enthu-
251
OUR COUNTRY HOME
siasm grew as our work progressed, and after the window-boxes
were finished we looked about for more worlds to conquer! On
the long broken flight of shallow steps at the entrance were four
smaller boxes whose swaying fronds of fern had gone the way of
all grass. Why should not these be filled too ? No sooner said
than done! Off again into the surrounding woods we hastened,
returning with more armfuls of loveliness. Each box when com-
pleted looked more beautiful than the last, and we surveyed our
work with keen satisfaction.
Later on the rain froze in wonderful pearls up and down the
tall stems and on the edge of the brown leaves and seed pods, the
sun shone in millions of spectra and the light danced in rainbow
colors over the walls of the living-room. One morning in January
we awoke to a marvellous spectacle. A fine, soft, wet snow had
fallen in the night, and every separate spray in our window-boxes
was clothed in its own delicate mantle of purity.
To a true Nature-lover the month of November has lost its
bleak and desolate reputation to become the unfolder of mysteries.
The variety of tree-forms is incredible to an ignorant city-bred
person, while the contours of the land are a constant surprise the
steep hillsides and deep valleys, undisguised by underbrush or
snowy mantle: the face of the country has assumed a new aspect.
Does any one know the real beauty of the sunshine until he has
seen it burst through the heavy dark clouds of a November sky,
illuminating the fields of pale corn stubble, the soft rosy cream of
252
IHK FEBN-BOX KILLKO WITH SKKD-PODS
A MOHMNG IN JAM AH Y
WEEDS FOR DECORATION
the wind-blown marsh grasses, the rich brown of the oak leaves, and
the rolling green fields of winter grain ? A marble shaft on yonder
hilltop gleams for an instant, and the church-spire rises near. The
sky is patched with blue, and the old gnarled apple trees along tin-
ridge, the tall elms about the farmhouse door, the rows of poplar^
and maples along the village streets stand sharply outlined. A
clump of willows by a winding brook appears and disappears.
There is a field of feeding cattle in the distance with a generous
red barn not far away. How black are the furrows of newly
ploughed earth! How yellow the seed-corn hanging under the
eaves ! The shadows fly across the open fields pursued by the
crows in flocks and more and more the blue sky widens, the clouds
grow fleecy and white and small, the sunshine reflects itself in tiny
pools and waterways by sunken fences. Can this be grim Novem-
ber?
CHAPTER XVI.
CONCLUSION.
T \ 7"E have not sought to do everything at once; we try not to
be impatient for results. For example, it took us nearly
three years to learn a fully satisfactory way to put the name of
the place at the entrance ! It sounds simple enough, but .
On the highroad outside the almost invisible wire fence, we had
planted a long thicket of underbrush from the woods within, while
about the curving stone arms of the gateway we put masses of wild
roses and bitter-sweet. In the split boulder which capped the
gate-post we decided to carve the name of the place.
The Friendly Architect sketched roughly the letters, and the
stone-cutter, who had had experience in the little local burving-
ground, came from the village armed with hammer, drills, and
emery stone, and began making round holes three-eighths of an inch
in diameter, three-fourths of an inch deep, and one-eighth of an
inch apart, up and down the penciled lines. It was not rapid work :
the granite seemed particularly impenetrable, and the drills would
get dull after every few strokes; but at the end of many days the
holes all beautifully round were completed.
256
C X C L U S I O X
Our growing suspicions proved too \vell founded; the shadow,
were not dense enough, and the name was indistinct. The Con-
stant Improver looked at it critically, and asked, ''Have n't you
some black yarn ?" I thought I was prepared for any demand,
but this staggered me a bit, not associating wool and granite gate-
THK (;.YTE-POST
posts. However, I managed to gasp, '' E-er, no; I don't believe I
have but we can buy some." Full of curiosity and impatient to
put the new idea into practice, we harnessed the old gray horse
and drove down to the village for the yarn. On our return we
jumped out at the gate, and the Constant Improver filled every
hole with the black woolly stuff, carrying the line loosely from one
O U 11 C O U N T 11 V II O M E
hole to the next, making a beautifully soft outline for the perfectly
clear inscription. We stood back and laughed in delight; we
turned and walked away for some distance to see how it carried.
it was just what we wanted.
We returned to the house in triumph. But the rain and the
wind played havoc with our work. In a few weeks ends of the yarn
were waving in the breeze and a dilapidated and out-at-elbow
announcement greeted the passer-by, it looked as if the gatepost
were ravelling. Why would n't black paint, following closely in
the lines of the wool, produce the same effect ? The Constant
Improver watched as the gardener cautiously experimented. Yes ;
it was good. The letters stood clearly forth in soft velvety outline.
We congratulated one another, for this had been on our minds for
many moons, and now the Constant Improver could turn his active
intellect to other problems.
Was there not the small greenhouse to build ? Why should n't
its sides, too, be of the rough-hewn timbers, and the potting sheds
at the ends have the mossy roof of the woodshed ? Even the sash
which held the glass was to be painted brown, an unheard of in-
novation in greenhouse construction. Instead of an ugly chimney,
a good terra-cotta chimney-pot was selected and carefully brought
out " by hand " from the city. Only the martin-house sent us by a
friend stood white and uncompromising in the midst of all these
blending tones. To be sure, the martins had not yet found it.
After two years the Constant Improver could endure it no longer,
TIIK GREENHOUSE
THE LEAF-CART
o \ c L r s i o
and it too was stained a lovely soft brown. I cannot *eH that
this will entice these particular birds, hut it certainly satisfies the
artistic sense of those most concerned.
I have heard it said that if you ,,ut into your country place
every penny you can spare, vou are a horticulturist; I,,,, if V(MI
make it pay you attain to the dimity of ., farmer. There may be
differences of opinion about the form of -pay." I am afraid uv
resemble the countryman who was asked by his friend:
" Why did ye set out all them catalpa trees ? They won't pa v
nothinV
"Why, neighbor;' he replied, " I git mv money back every day
a-lookin' on 'em. "
So we take the utmost satisfaction in j us t " lookin' on" our
weeds and wild flowers, our shrubs and forest tree-,.
It does not seem possible that one can hear in the early spring-
time the ho;ik-hi)nk of the wild geese and watch their curious
V-shaped flight without a longing to follow them into the wild, to
feel the sweet-smelling earth under one's feet again, and to watch
the awakening of all living things from their wintrv dreams.
"Yes," some practical soul may perhaps say, "that is all vcrv
beguiling if we only lived like the birds, carrying our belongi?igs
on our backs and finding a shelter wherever we chose to stop. "
Truly, I think the talk about the care of a country house is exag-
gerated. Care is, after all, entirely a matter of the individual.
Our grandmothers would doubtless have spent davs in covering
OUR COUNTRY HOME
up the furniture and putting away the bric-a-brac when leaving,
which would entail even more work in readjusting and uncovering
and vigorous cleaning in the springtime. In the early days I
acknowledge that I thought this was the only way to be a good
housekeeper !
But the Constant Improver is not so named for naught.
''The important thing," he said, "is to have furnishings simple
enough so that the house may be closed by turning the key, then it
is ready for the week-end visit at any time of the year. " After he
had once persuaded me to try his easy method, moving lost all its
terrors.
People who have never attempted it, often have the belief that
it is easier to keep house in the city than in the country, that one
is nearer the source of supplies, and that things in general are more
convenient in the city. I wish to assert the contrary. With proper
system and a little forethought at the beginning of the season, the
house really keeps itself, and there is not that constant battle with
dust and soot which makes the housekeeper's life in the city a daily
martyrdom. It is easy also to arouse in the household a spirit of
interest in the country life out-doors. One little maid, newly come,
was so impressed with the knowledge of the Constant Improver,
that, pointing to our collection of last year's birds' nests, she asked
if he had made them and put them out for the birds to use! Later
on, I discovered one day in the out-of-door dining-room that the
dry crusts of bread thrown out to the birds had been carefully soaked
BRINGING IN BRANCHES
THE MANCHURIAN CHERRY
CONCLUSION
in milk and a dish of cherries thoughtfully stoned, - '' For tin-
birds have n't any teeth, they tell me!"
Always there is a pleasure in the beauty of the woods and a
desire to know the names of the flowers brought in. Nothing is
too much trouble if the result be satisfactory, and I have known
my maids to scour the woods for hours in search of some precious
branch and to get up at dawn to cut the flowers with the dew still
on them. From the beginning we have been assisted in the accom-
plishment of our cherished plans by the hearty cooperation and
real sympathy of our well-trained English gardener, who has be-
come as enthusiastic as ourselves over the preservation of all our
wildness. He has developed a genius for imitating Nature, taking
careful photographs of desirable bits of scenery with the object of
reproducing them on our own small estate. He is tireless in his
quest for wild flowers and will explore the country for miles around
in search of roots. A modest, self-contained man with unusual
executive ability, he is an apostle of Nature among his fellow-
gardeners and writes papers for the State Horticultural Society
advocating his purpose.
In America life is more interesting because we are young:
we are the ancestors, so to speak, of a nation: we are establishing
universities and museums; erecting monumental buildings of all
sorts: and at last we have reached that desirable point in our civili-
zation when country life reveals its charms to us. In various parN
of our own land we are making beautiful homes, experimenting in
966
OUR COUNTRY HO M E
farm lands, even planting forests; as a people we are just learning
the delights of real life. When we think of the vast treeless tracts
in Michigan and Minnesota swept by fire or by the ruthless hand
of civilized man. we must be grateful for this new spirit of upbuild-
ing, of patient labor for the benefit of future generations. In the
government reserves in both Germany and France, how pleasing
it is to see the tiny spruces and pines, whole acres of them, perhaps
a foot high, to be left alone for a sufficient time to attain their per-
fect growth. This takes, I believe, about twenty-five years. But
has not our government evolved a much more beautiful system of
forestry ? Here all the trees of a certain regulated size may be cut
down each year, yet the stately forest in all its growing comeliness
is carefully preserved.
One comforting thought to that mass of people who have always
lived in the city is, that they will enjoy each phase of country life
much more than the old rural inhabitants. It was predicted that
probably the charm lay for us too in the novelty of the experience,
and of course that could not last; but we find a continued nov-
elty, and after five years our interest, instead of diminishing, has
increased little bv little until it fills our lives with its intensitv and
^
we see stretching before us long years of glad accomplishment.
It is fortunate that none of us wishes to profit by the example
of his fellow man ; half the joy of living is learning by experience.
Another cheering circumstance is that few of us have marvellous
memories; so we luckily forget, and each year must learn again,
CONCLUSI X
something, if it be only the names of the birds and the flowers and
the plants. By looking over one's own list each Spring, renewing
the acquaintance as it were, soon the old familiarity returns. But it
is the doing, after all, which gives the most pleasure! The tiny oak
that I raised from the acorn and after two years planted in an open
space where some day it will extend its branches over every passer-
by, suppose at present it /.v only ten inches high and I can count
its eight or ten leaves! And the young Manchurian bird-cherry
which looks like a man's walking-stick thrust in the ground, do
I not see in imagination its luscious fruit on spreading boughs filled
with song birds grateful for their feast ? That horse-chestnut sap-
ling which we rescued from a tangle of grapevine and willow and
gave breathing space in the open, do not its leaves turn a deeper
red and its bursting buds give us a keener joy for all our care ? Do
the long years of waiting oppress me? I have no time for that:
each day brings so much of present interest that the hours s< cm
overflowing. The dividing line between work and play has been
eliminated: the daily task has become the daily joy! And it is
astonishing what can be done in one lifetime with energies properly
directed. The beautiful Hunnewcl! estate at Wellesley, Massa-
chusetts, with its huge forest trees, its elaborate and ancient-looking
Italian garden, its wonderful flowering shrubs, was within the
memory of men now living a barren field covered with stones.
An Enthusiast is never wholly satisfied until she has persuaded
some one else to go and do likewise. Her happiness is such that
269
OUR COUNT R V H O M E
it seems selfish not to share it. All through our Badger State are
hidden small lakes surrounded by virgin forests, where the weeds
and the wild flowers are only waiting to be appreciated. Here each
#
season has its own particular beauty, arid each day a separate
charm. For joyful recreation, for healthful exercise, for novel
experiences, for the development of individuality, the possibilities
of the woodland home are infinite.
LIST OF PLANTS, SHRUBS. AM) TRKKS
LIST OF PLANTS, SHRUBS, AND TREES
(This nomenclature follows " An Illustrated Flora of the United States.
Canada, and the British Possessions," by Xathaniel Lord Brilton and
Addison Brown, 1896.)
Ageratum, Garden,
Ayerafum, me.rieanum.
Acrimony,
Agrimonia.
Anemone, Japanese,
Anemone japonica.
Anise,
Pimpinella anisum.
Apple,
Utdiu mains.
Apple. Japanese Crab-,
Mains specfabilis.
Apple, Western Crab-.
afahit iuenxix.
Apple, Wild Crab-,
Media angiutifoKa.
Arbutus. Trailing.
l-'./>igira repciix.
Arrow-wood,
I'ihitrnum dentatum.
Arrow-wood, Downy-
leaved,
1'iburn um pubetotRt.
Artichoke, French,
( 'i/nara tcob/mut.
Artichoke. Jerusalem.
Hdianth us tuberosns.
Asparagus,
Asparagus officinal ix.
Aster, Common Blue
Wood,
Aster cordifolius.
Aster. Late Purple,
Aster patens.
Aster. Ne\\ England.
Aster Xonr-AnglitF.
Aster, Sky-blue.
Aster azureus.
Aster. Smooth,
Aster lerris.
Aster, Wavy-leafed,
Aster unditltitu.f.
Astilbe. Japanese,
Axtilhe japonica.
Azalea,
Azalea.
Haliy's-breath,
Gi/pxopli iln pun inilata.
Halm, Ijemon.
Melissa ofticinalis.
Balaam-apple, Wild,
M icra m peli.t lohata .
Baoebeny, Red,
Aff(Fa ruhru.
Bane!>errv, White.
At-fira alba.
Barl)erry. Japanese.
Herbert* j
Ha il. Sweet,
(him ii in basil irn m.
Bajbeny,
afyriea
Bean,
Pkateohu rulgarix.
Bean. Lima,
Phased its lunatus.
Be;m, Wild.
Phaseolu.* polyttachyiu.
Bed-tra\v. Rough,
daliitm nxpri'llitin.
Beech-drops. False
Mouotropi h>/popiti/x.
B(M-t.
Beta ruhjnrift.
Begonia. Tuberous,
Begonia fuherosa.
Bellfiower, Chinese,
Pliiti/coilim grandi-
florunt.
Bellflower, Pyramidal.
( 'ain/xinula />i/ramidalis.
Bellflower. Tall,
( '/in/piinula americana.
Belhvort, Large-flowered,
i'rnlariti grandi flora.
Bergamot. Wild,
.}Ionarda fistulosa.
273
Bitidwe*-*!, Hedge.
( 'on roli-ttlux ne pin in.
Hitter-sweet,
( 'flaxtru.* xraittlriix.
Hlackherry. High-bush.
llnbns I'H/o.iiix.
Blackberry, lyo
/I'M'//.V eaaadtunt.
Bl i"k- -ved Susan.
liii'lbei'kin hirta.
I{| iddcr-niit.
Sf a phi/lea trifulia.
Bl \xing-star,
Liairi.t pytnodachya.
Bleeding-Mart,
Direnfra xpertuhilix.
Bloodroot,
>' iin/ninaria canailcn-
ti.
Blueberry,
I 'ai-dn ium eorymbonun.
Boneact,
Eupatorium perfd,M-
tuin.
Bouncing Bet.
Saponaria offic-ntilix.
Box.
Brake.
Pteris ai/uilina.
Bridal Wreath.
S pirn a run llonttei.
BucKthorn.
liliainn us cathartira.
Buckthorn, Sea,
Ilip/xiphae rfiainnoides.
Buckwheat. Climbing
False,
Polygon u m duiiitturuin.
var. xi-tindriix.
Burdock, (ireat.
.iri-tium Lappti.
Butter-and-egos,
Linnria rnlgaris.
LIST OF PLANTS, SHRUBS, AND TREES
Buttercup,
Cinq uef oil,
Dahlia,
Ranunculus.
Potentilla canadensis.
Dahlia variabilis.
Butterfly-weed,
Clematis, Jackmann's,
Dandelion,
Afdepitu tuberosa.
Clematis Jackmanni.
Taraxacum taraxacum.
Butternut,
Clematis, Japanese,
Dock, Radish-leaved,
Jiiglans cinerea.
Clematis panLulata.
Rume.r crispus.
Button-hush,
Clover, Red,
Dodder,
Cephalanthusoccidentalis.
Trifolium pratense.
Cuscuta gronovii.
Cobrea Vine.
Dogbane,
Cactus.
Cobcea scandens.
4.pocynum androsaemi-
Opuntia fragile.
Cohosh, Blue,
folium.
Campion, Starry,
Caulophyllum thalic-
Dogwood, Alternate-
Silene stellata.
troides.
leaved,
Canterlmry Bells,
Columbine, Wild,
Cornus alternifolia.
Campanula medium.
Aquilegia canadensis.
Dogwood, Panicled,
( 'araway,
Cone-flower, Newman's,
Cornus paniculata.
Carum carui.
Rudbeckia Newmani.
Dogwood, Red Osier,
Cardinal-flower,
Cone-flower, Sweet,
Cornus stolonifera.
Lobelia cardinalis.
Rudbeckia sublomen-
Dogwood, Red-stemmed,
Cardinal-flower, Blue,
tosa.
Cornus sibirica.
Ijobel ia syph ilitica .
Cone-flower, Thin-leaved,
Dogw'ood, Round-leaved,
Carnation, see Pink.
Rudbeckia triloba.
Cornuy circinata.
Carrot,
Coprinus, Inky,
Dogwood, Silky, or Kinni-
Daucus carota.
Coprinus atramentarius.
kinnik,
Catalpa,
Coral-root, Small-
Cornus amonum.
Cafalpa catalpa.
Catnip, or Catmint.
Nepeta calaria.
Cauliflower,
Brassica oleracea, var.
boirytis.
Cedar, White,
Thuja occidentalis.
Celery,
Apium graveolens dulce.
Chamomile,
Anthemis tinctoria.
Chamomile, False,
Boltonia asteroides.
flowered,
Corattorhiza odonto-
rhiza.
Coreopsis, Lance-leaved,
Coreopsis lanceolata.
Cow-parsnip,
Heradeum lanatum.
Cranberry, High-bush,
Viburnum opulus.
Cucumber,
Cucumis sativus.
Currant, Black,
Ribes americanum.
Currant, Indian, or Coral-
Egg Plant,
Solanum melongena.
Eglantine, or Sweet Brier,
Rosa rubiginosa.
Elder, American, or El-
derberry,
Samhucus canadensis.
Elder, Red-berried,
Sambucus pubens.
Elm, American,
Ulmus americana.
Elm, Slippery,
Ulmus fulva.
Chard, Swiss,
berry,
Fern, Boston,
Beta vulgaris alba.
Symphoricarpus vul-
Xephrolepis exaliata
Cherry,
garis.
bostoniensis.
Prunus cerasus.
Currant, Missouri,
Fern, Maiden-hair,
Cherry, Choke,
Ribes aureum.
Adiantum pedatum.
Prunvs virginiana.
Currant, Red,
Fern, Sweet,
Cherry, Western Sand,
Ribes rubrum.
Comptonia peregrina.
Prunus besseyi.
Currant, White,
Fetter-bush, Mountain,
Cherry, Western Wild,
Ribes rubrum, var. al-
Andromeda floribunda.
Prunus demissa.
bum.
Figwort, Hare,
Cherry, Wild Black,
Scrophularia lepardla.
Prunus serotina.
Daffy-down-dilly,
Figwort, Maryland,
Cliickweed,
Narcissus pseudo-
Scrophularia maryland-
Alsine media.
narcissus.
ica.
274
LIST OF PLANTS, SHRUBS, AM) TREES
Fleur-de-lis,
Iris yermanica, etc.
Hardhack,or Steeplebush,
iS'pircpa tomentosa.
Iris, Sil^erian,
Irix vihirica.
Forsythia, Hanging,
Harebell,
Iris, Spanish,
Forsyth ia .S-H.V/WH.W.
Forsyt h ia , I ntermed iate,
( 'a in pan ula rotuntlifolia.
Haw. Hawthorn,
Iris il>erica.
Iris, Yellow,
Forsythia intermedia.
Foxglove, Downy False,
Cnitaeg >is o.vuaca nth a.
Heliotrope,
/r/.v pmJaearut.
Iron W(MK!,
Dasystoma flava.
fleliotropiiim.
Ostrya virginiana.
Foxglove, Fern-leaved,
Hercules' Club,
False,
Aralia spinosa.
Jack-in-the-|)iilpit, or In-
Dasystoma pedicularia.
Hickory,
dian turnip.
Hieoria.
Arixtrwii trip/ii/lliiin.
Hobble-bush,
Jasmine, or Jr^ainiiir.
Gentian, Closed,
}'iburnum alnifolium.
Jaxm inum o/fichi <,!,.
Gentiana Andreu-sii.
Hog^veed,
Jewel-weed,
Gentian, Fringed,
A mhrosia artem ixia--
Impatient In flora.
Gentiana crinifa.
folia.
J(K'-Pye Wctil. or Purple
Gentian. Horse,
Hollyhock,
Thorough wort.
Trioxteum perfoliatum .
Geranium, Cultivated,
Atthen rosea.
Honeysuckle, Albert's,
Hnpatorium purpnri-um.
Joii<|iiil,
Pelaryonium.
Lon icera alhcrti.
\arcijntns jam/ u ilia .
Geranium, Hose.
Honeysuckle. Hush.
Jumper,
Pelaryonium capitatum.
DiarmOa tlicrrilln.
./unifM-rus communis.
Geranium, Wild.
Geranium maciilatuin.
Honeysuckle, Smooth-
Icaved,
Knotwcctl, Japanc-f.
l'<>/i/(/(>iiiti>i Sicboldi
Ginseng.
Lonicpra dioica.
Kohlrabi
Pana.v quinquefolium.
Goat's-beard,
Honeysuckle, Sweet-
scented,
lira.wu-a caitlo-rapa.
Kud/u Vine,
Aruncus arunciu>.
Golden Glow.
Loniccra halliana.
Honeysuckle, Tartarian.
Pueraria Tk/tmbtrgiana
Rudbeckia lacin iata.
Hush.
Ladies'-slipper, Pink,
var. G. G.
Lonicera tntarica.
( 'yprifM-diuin .ipertahiif.
Golden-rod,
Horse Gentian.
Ladies'-sli|)|x>r, Yellow,
Solidayo.
Triosteum perffh iatu in .
Cmripeamm pubescens.
(iooset>erry.
Horse-radish,
l,;nly's-tnumb,
Kibes uva-crispa.
Xtifitiirtiuni armoracea.
Polyyonum persicaria.
Gooseberry, Wild,
Horse- weed.
Larksj)ur.
Kites nncile.
Leptilon ranadense.
l)t I /minium.
Grape, Niagara,
Hyacinth, Giant Summer.
Larkspur, Chinese,
I'iV/.v cordifolia.
Galtonia candicanx.
Di 1 /illinium chincnse.
Grape, Northern Fox,
Hydrangea, Wild,
Laurel, American,
Vitis labrusca.
Hydrangea arborescent.
Kalinin latifolia.
Grass, Eulalia.
I^a vender,
Eulalia gracillina.
Indian-pipe,
Ltnrnd ula vera.
Grass, Plume,
Motwtropa uni flora.
I-^ek, Wil.l.
Erianthiui Ravenna .
Indigo, Blue Wild.
Allium tricoccum.
Grass, Ribbon,
Baptisia au-stralis.
Leopard's Bane,
Phalaris arundiacea
Iris, English,
Doronicum plantagin-
picta.
Iris xiphoides.
fum, var. excdsum.
Groundnut,
Iris, German,
Lettuce, Blue,
Apios tuberosa.
Iris yermanica.
Lactuca pulchtlla.
Groundsel-bush.
Iris, Japanese,
Lettuce, Garden,
Baccharis halimifolia.
Iris uevigata.
Lactuca sativa.
275
LIST OF PLANTS, SHRUBS, AND TREES
lettuce, Red Wood,
Mallow,
Nasturtium,
Lactuca hirsuta.
Malva sylrestri-s.
Tropceoltts mujus.
Lettuce, Tall White,
Mandrake, Wild,
Nicotine,
Nabalux altissimus.
Podophyllum pelf at urn.
Nicotiana noctiflora.
Lettuce, White,
Maple,
Oalr
X abacus albus.
Acer.
V-/ti,
Lettuce, Wild,
Lactuca canadensis.
Leucothoe, Catesby's,
Leucothoe catesbcei.
Lilac, Common,
Syringa rulgaris.
Lilac, Persian,
Marigold,
Lagetes.
Marigold, Bur,
Bidens Icevis.
Marigold, Marsh,
Caltha palustris.
Marjoram, Sweet,
Quercus.
Obedient Plant,
Physostegia virgin ian n .
Okra, or Gumbo,
Hibiscus cesculentus.
Olive, Wild,
Eleagnus angustifdia.
Syringa persica.
Lily. Asa Gray's,
Lilium grayi.
Lily, Japanese Gold-
banded,
Liliwn auratum.
Lily, Madonna.
Lilium candidunt.
Origanum marjorana.
Marrow, Vegetable,
Cucurbita pepo.
M;ir>h-mallow,
Althaea ofjicinalis.
Matrimony Vine,
Lycium vulgare.
Meadow Rue.
AUium cepa.
Orchid, Showy,
Orchis spectabttia.
Osmanthus, Holly-leaved,
Osmantli us aqnifolium.
Ox-eye, Rough,
Heliopsi-s scabra.
Lily, Midnight,
Lilium elegans.
Thalictrum.
Meadow-sweet, Thun-
Paint-brush,
Hypericum prolificum.
T) 1
Lilv Pink
berg's,
1 aim,
1 <!!_* . J. 1 1 1 r\ .
Lilium speciosum ru-
oruiti
Spiraea Thunbergiana.
Meadow-sweet. Van
Latania borbonica.
Parsley.
Lily, Showy \Vhite,
Lilium speciosiirn album.
Lily, Tiger,
Lilium tiqrinum.
Lily, Turk's Cap,
Lilium superbum.
Boutte'fi,
Spiraea ran houttei.
Milkweed, Tall,
Asclepias exaltata.
Milkwort,
Poly gala.
Mock Orange.
Petrosalinu?n satii-um.
Parsnip,
Pastinaca rcpens.
Partridge-berry,
Mitchftta re pens.
Pea, Garden.
Pisum sat i vu m.
Lily, Wood,
Lit in m ph iladelph icu m .
Lily, Yellow Day,
Hemerocallis flava.
Lily, Yellow Meadow.
Ph iladelph us cor on a -
riiift.
Moonseed,
Menixpermum cana-
dense.
Pea, Sweet,
Lathi/rux odoratiift.
Peanut', Wild.
Falcata comosa.
Pecan
Lilium canadense.
Morel,
Ilicona pecan.
Linden,
Morchella deliciosa.
Peony,
Tilia americana.
Morning-glory, Wild Pink,
Pceonia.
Liver-leaf,
Ipomea purpurea.
Pepper, Red,
Hepatica triloba.
Mullein,
Capsicum annuum.
liverwort,
Verbascum.
Peppermint,
Hepatica triloba.
Mushroom, Field,
itenfka piperita.
Lobelia,
Agaricu-v campestris.
Petunia,
Lobelia.
Muskmelon,
Petunia.
Locust Tree,
Cucumis mdo.
Phlox, Garden,
Robinia pseudacacia.
Phlox paniculata.
Loosestrife, Spiked,
Nannyberry.
Pie plant, or Rhubarb,
Lythrum salicaria.
Viburnum lentago.
Rheum rkaptmtieim.
Tx>osestrife, Yellow,
Narcissus, Poet's,
Pine, Chile,
Lysimnchia Fraseri. Narcissus poeticus.
Araucaria umbricuta.
276
LIST OF PLANTS, SHRUBS, AND TREES
Pine, Dwarf,
Rhododendron,
Shin-leaf,
Pinux iiiuyhux.
Rhododendron.
I'lfrala illi/itica.
Pine, While,
Hose, Dog,
Smaitweed,
P in i/.s .ilrobus.
Rosa ran inn.
I'oli/i/imiun pfttiixi/lrnii-
Pink, Chinese,
Rose, Low Pasture,
irltin.
Dianthns sinenttis.
Rosa hum His.
Snakcroot. White,
Plantain, Common,
Rose, Meadow,
Euputoritim mjcmtnidi .-.
Plantago major.
Rosa blnnila.
Snapdragon,
Plantain, Rattlesnake,
Rose, Prairie,
Antirrhinum
P( ram inm pnbescenx.
Rosa setigera.
Sneexeweed,
Plantain, Robin's,
Rose, Swamp,
I lilt ninm autnmnnli .
Eritjcron bcllidifolius.
Rosa Carolina.
Snee/cwdrt. Pearl,
Plum,
Rose, Wrinkled-leaf.
Ai-hillt'ii [ilar in iru.
Prunus domestica.
Rosn rityoxa.
Snowball, ,Ia|>ar
Poison-ivy,
Rose-mallow.
Viburnum plii-utum.
Rhiis radicans.
Hibiscus moschetif<>.<;.
Soowbeny,
Poplar,
Rose-mallow, Chinese,
Syatphonearptu race-
Popvhu tremuloides.
Hibiscus sinensis.
motrua.
Poppy, Oriental,
Runner, S<-arlet,
Solomon's Seal, Giant, or
Pa /Hirer somniferum.
Phaseolus m ultiftorux.
Smooth,
Poppy, Plumed,
Bocconin cor/lata.
Sabbatia,
PolygoiKitiim yiganieuw
Solomon's Seal, Hairy.
Primrose, Evening.
(E n oth era b ien n in .
Sabbatia.
Sage, Blue,
Polygonatum biflorum,
Solomon's Seal, Star-
Privet,
Salvia azurea.
flowered,
Ligustrum medium.
Sage, Garden,
Vagnera stellata.
Privet,
Salvia officinalis.
Sorrel, Sheep,
Ligustru i regelian u m .
Sage, Mexican Garden.
llumi:i- acetoseUa.
Puccoon, Hairy.
Lilhoxpermum ymclini.
Pyrethrum,
Pyrethrum.
Salvia patens.
Salsify, or Oyster Plant.
Tragojxxjon porrijolittx.
Salvia, White,
Spearmint,
Mfnlhn xpicata.
Spiderwort, Blue,
Tradescantia virgini-
Quince, Japanese,
Cydonia japonica.
Salvia argcntrti.
Sanicle, White,
Eupatorium ageraioides.
ana
Spikenard. American.
Aralia racemosa.
Radish.
Rhaphanus sativus.
Sanvitalia (procumbent),
kin to Rudbeckia and
S|>ikcnanl, Wild.
Vagnera racemosa.
Rampion,
Cam/Kin ula rapwicvlua
Raspberry, Black,
Rubus occidenialis.
Zinnia .
Sarsaparilla, Wild,
Aralia nudicauii*.
Savory, Summer,
Spinach,
Spinacia oleracea.
Spindle-tree, NVide-
Raspberry, Purple-
flowering,
Rubus odoralwt.
Raspberry, Red,
Rubus strigosus.
Reed, Donax,
Aritndo donax.
Reed, Plumed Ravenna,
Erianthus ravennte.
Resin Plant,
SUphium terebinth inar
eum.
Satoreia liortensis.
Scarlet Lightning,
Lychnis chalcedonica.
Self-heal,
Prunella vulgaris.
Senna, Wild, or American
Cassia, marulandica.
Shaggy-mane, or Manec
Agaric,
Coprinus comatus.
Shield-fern, Fragrant,
Dryopteris fragrans.
stemmed,
Euonymus alatus.
Spring Beauty,
Claytonia virginica.
Sprouts, Brussels,
Brassica.
Spruce, White,
Picea canadensis.
Spurge, Flowering,
Euphorbia. coroUata.
Spurge, Ridge-seeded,
Euphorbia glyptosperma
277
LIST OF PLANTS, SHRUBS, AND TREP:S
Squash,
Tarragon,
Violet, Striped,
Cucnrbila maxima.
Artemisia dran unndus
Viola xfnat'i.
Squaw-root,
Tea, New Jersey,
Virginia-creeper, mis-
Conoplwlis (imericana.
( 'eanoth u-s amcricanus.
called Wootlbine,
Star-cucumber,
Tea, Oswego,
Parthenoeitnu </uin<]iie-
Sicyos angniatus.
Monurdn rlidyiiia.
foiia, or Ampelopsis
Star-flower, see Aster.
Thimble-weed,
quinquefolia.
Star-of- Bethlehem,
Anemone Virginia.
Virgin's Bower,
Ornothogalum umbella-
Thistle Family,
Clematis rirginiana.
tum.
Compotitce.
Stonecrop, Showy,
Thornapple Tree,
Wake-robin, Great-
Seduin sin-Habile.
Cratcerjus crus-galli.
flowered,
Strawberry, ( 'onimon,
Fragana trwa.
Tomato,
Jjycopertiecn lyeoper-
Trillium grand iflorn m.
Wake-robin, Nodding,
Strawberry, Wild North-
sieon.
Trillium cemuuni.
ern,
Trumpet-creeper,
\\ ake-robm, Prairie,
Fragaria canadensis.
Teeomia rad leans, or
Trillium recurvatum.
^trawberry-bush,
Bignonia radicans.
Walnut, Black,
Euon it m M.V a merican us.
Sumac, Fragrant,
Rhus aromatica.
Sumac, Mountain,
Turnip,
Brassica campentris.
Turtle-head,
Chelone glabra.
Juglans nigra.
Water-leaf, Virginia,
Ilt/drophyllum cirgin-
icitm.
Rhus copallina.
Sumac, Staghorn,
Twisted-stalk,
Sfreptopus amplexifo-
Wayfaring Tree,
Viburnum lantana.
Rhu-s lyphina.
lius.
Willow, Pussy,
Sunflower,
Salix discolor.
Heiianthtts.
Unicorn Plant,
\Villow T Wisconsin, or
Sweet Brier, or Eglantine,
Martynia proboscidea.
Peach-leaved ,
Rosa rubiginosa.
Sweet Pea,
Lathyrus odoratus.
Valerian,
Valerian a.
SalLr amygdaloides.
Winterberry, Virginia..
Ilex verficillata.
Sweet William,
Vervain, Blue,
W itch-hazel,
Diantkus barbatus.
Syringa,
Verbena hastata.
Vetch, American,
Hamamelis virgin tana.
W it he-rod
Philadelph us corona-
Vicia americana.
Viburnum cassinoidfs.
rius.
Viburnum, Chinese,
W 7 ood bine
Syringa,
Philadelphia lemoinei.
Viburnum dilatahim.
Viburnum, Maple-leaved,
Ampelopsis quinque-
folia .
Syringa, Gordon's,
Philadelphia gordon-
Viburnum acerifoliu in .
Viburnum, Siebold's,
Wood-sorrel, Yellow,
Oxalis siricia.
iamis.
Viburnum sieboldi.
Syringa, Large-flowered,
Philadelphia grandi-
florus.
Violet, Bird-foot,
Viola pedaia.
Violet, Downy Yellow
Yellow-root.
Xanthorhiza apiifolia.
Viola pubescens.
Tamarisk,
Violet, Meadow,
Zinnia,
Tamarix parviftora.
Viola obliqua.
Zinnia.
278
f. ' *
.".
5^
pr7>
THE LIBRARY
UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA
Santa Barbara
THIS BOOK IS DUE ON THE LAST DATE
STAMPED BELOW.
Series 9482
C