The Value of Horticulture to the Farm.
MRS. CLARENCE WEDGE, ALBERT LEA.
It is pleasant to have a good roomy subject. E. S. Martin said in Harper's Weekly as Christmas time approached, "There are just two places in the world, and one of these is home." I will paraphrase it by saying, "There are only two places in the world, and one of these is the farm." So the value of horticulture to the farm is a large subject.
I passed a farm last summer that I shall never forget. It was quite unattractive, I believe, so far as variety of contour was concerned—quite level and commonplace. Right across the road from the house was a half-grown windbreak of golden willow. Against that as a background blazed out row upon row of the most brilliant flowers, graduated down to the edge of the road, and extending as far as half a city block or more. Think what a beautiful surprise for every one that turned that corner. I think the occupants of the house must have enjoyed sitting on their porch watching the people in the cars start with pleasure and turn to look as they flew past. That farmer (or his wife) knew something of the value of horticulture to the farm. Perhaps it was a device of the farmer's wife to divert the gaze of the passer-by from the porch, for you know we do stare shamelessly when we are on a joy ride. At any rate, that farm would not be forgotten by any one that passed it. The advertising that beauty spot gave his place would exceed in value a column a week in the county paper, and not cost a tenth as much.
Lowell remarks, "Nature with cheap means still works her wonders rare." And there she stands with arms extended, offering the farmer all the wealth and beauty he will put forth his hand to take.
Last fall I passed another farm down in Iowa, whose owner had tried to make his place conspicuous by putting a concrete wall and gateway in front of his house, and making lavish use of white paint in decorating his buildings and grounds. He succeeded, but I cannot help thinking that if he had put the money that useless concrete work cost into shrubbery and vines, it would have made his place twice as attractive. I dislike pretentious adornments to the farm, especially where the rest of the place doesn't measure up to them. Like Senator Blaine, who, at the time the Queen Anne style of architecture became popular, on being asked why he did not have his old fashioned house Queen Anned, replied that he did not like to see a Queen Anne front and a Mary Anne back.
A farm home can be something better than a city park. One of the beautiful things that I shall always remember about Berlin was a way they had of bordering their parks and the enclosures of public buildings. They take tree-roses trimmed up to the height of a fence with a hemispherical head. Then they plant them around the edge of their grounds a rod or two apart, festoon chains from the top of one rose stalk to the top of the next, and where the chain touches the ground midway between them, they plant a little ivy which climbs up and conceals the chain and gives the appearance of festoons of vines between the rose trees. I thought them so lovely that when I married a nurseryman I thought I would persuade him to do something of that kind on our grounds, but he has convinced me that while that is all right for a city park, it would not be in good taste in a country place. It would look too artificial. The charm of a country place is its natural beauty. For the same reason we do not have any trimmed evergreens or hedges on our place. Moreover, the man who makes his living from the soil finds the upkeep of those decorations too pottering, and if he had money to hire it done he would rather put it into his automobile or into other improvements.
The natural beauty that can be set about the farm home will become it better. Wild grape vines or woodbine draping the wire fences tempt the eye of the passer-by to linger, and they cost nothing. Once planted, they are there for a life-time. A walnut tree in a fence corner will grow to a fair size in ten years, in twenty it becomes a land-mark. A catalpa of a hardy strain will do the same thing in about half the time in our part of the state. Take an elder from your woods and plant it in an angle of your house, and it makes a luxurious growth that rivals the castor bean of the city park and does not need to be replaced the next spring.
It certainly pays to go in for some kind of horticultural adornments for the farm. They are so easy and inexpensive to obtain and make such a happy difference to the farmer's family and to all who pass his way. When you have a specially prosperous year on the farm, save a little of the surplus for new trees or shrubs.
But I remember passing another farm, all of twenty-five years ago, where horticulture may once have been of value to the farmer but had become a burden to him. There was a dense grove of willow down at one side, through which the drive leading to the barn was kept wet and muddy by the shade. On the other side rose a high grove of trees casting a gloomy shade on the house and poultry buildings, and a few odd shrubs straggled along the roadside and gave the place an unkempt look. Of all things, have sunshine! City people often have to sacrifice it, but no farmer is too poor to have it in plenty. Don't let your trees tyrannize over you.
It is, perhaps, unnecessary to mention the value of a windbreak to a farm. If it has not been provided by nature it is an absolute necessity to plant one as a matter of economy. It saves fuel inside and gives comfort outside. The cows give more milk, and all the animals put on more fat, if they have a sheltered place to take their airing. It is also a good thing to set some bushes or small spruces along the foundation wall of the house on the windy side. They are ornamental in summer, and in winter they catch the snow and tuck the house in against the wind.
When it comes to the garden, the "Value of Horticulture to the Farm" depends largely upon the farmer's wife, for a garden needs mothering as well as fathering. Few farmers have time to do more for a garden than the actual labor of plowing, planting, and cultivating, and digging the root vegetables in the fall. Somebody must watch the garden, go through it nearly every day, poison the cabbage worms and potato bugs, keep the asparagus and cucumbers picked, watch for the maturing of peas and beans, and dispose of any surplus either by canning or sending to market. To visit the garden only when you wish to gather some particular vegetable is like milking the cow only when you happen to want some milk.
A garden well tended puts the farm far ahead of the city home for luxuries of the table and cuts the cost of living in two. Fresh vegetables and cream are expensive articles in the city, inaccessible to any but the well-to-do, but it does not take a very thrifty farmer to have them, providing he has a thrifty wife. But to be a real helpmeet she must have an overall skirt and a pair of rubber boots. Then the dewy mornings will be as much of a pleasure to her as to her husband, and she can do her garden work in the cool of the day.
A garden is especially valuable to a farm, because the farm is usually somewhat isolated and must depend more or less upon its own resources for freshness and variety of food. A good garden on the farm will almost abolish the tin can, and strike off a large part of the grocer's bill, to say nothing of making the farmer live like a king.