Every one has his private calendar, and reckons the seasons by a computation of his own, but we may safely say that four long months, if no more, separate the falling of the leaf from its coming again. Perhaps we ought not to include Magnolias amongst hibernal flowers, though the trees are often white with blossom before the Larch is green; but the list of shrubs which bloom, or are bright with coloured fruit during those four months, would surprise most people who think of winter only as the dead season. The boughs of Sea Buckthorn are loaded with orange berries. Clusters of scarlet peep out of the fresh green of the Skimmia bushes and, so long as the birds do not find them out, Pernettya carries a crop of purple and crimson and pink fruit more showy than the modest white flowers of summer. When November days are growing dark, Coronilla, in sheltered spots, puts forth its pale clustering yellow flowers. Winter Jasmine, if the flowering branches are not ruthlessly pruned away in autumn, covers its long green shoots with golden stars. The evergreen Clematis (C. calycina) is never happier than when clinging to some terrace balustrade where it may have a little kindly shelter, which it repays by wreathing the stone-work with garlands of finely-cut bronzed foliage, hung with creamy freckled bells. More than one kind of hardy Heath, if grown in spreading masses, will deck the garden with sheets of colour the whole winter through.
The Chinese Honeysuckle (L. Standishii) arrays itself in its fragile white flowers as early as January. Witch Hazels hang their bare branches with twisted petals of gold or amber or, sometimes (as in Hamamelis zuccariniana), borrow the pale-green tint of the under wing of a brimstone butterfly. Soon after Christmas, Mezereon flushes into rosy purple, and bushes of Winter-sweet (Chimonanthus fragrans), independent of a wall (as few people know), will breathe out its perfume from leafless branches studded over with waxen-yellow flowers. It is strange how many of these winter-blooming plants keep their leaves well out of harm's way, brave as their flowers may be. But so it is, and so we learn that if we would gain their fullest winter beauty, we must group them with evergreen shrubs as foil or background.
And what store there is of these to choose from, not green only, but colour-tinged—Berberis of many kinds, the shining ordered leaf-rows of Azara, the purple tints of Mahonia and Gaultheria, the bronze of Andromeda buds, the deep dull green of Osmanthus, the wine red of Leucothoë, the pearl grey of Atriplex, and a hundred more will respond to our beck and call. Only we must choose with judgment, for whether our lot is cast in north or south, in the black east or soft caressing west, makes all the difference to our choosing. Only be sure that more important still than climate are the wind-breaks we can plan, and the shelter we may contrive. Yet when we are in doubt we can always come back with satisfaction to the quick-growing hardiest shrubs and find in them some fit setting for our garden picture. The slender angled branches of green Broom, the rigid spiny Furze, scented Rosemary, or hoary Lavender—all will lend their varied tints and attributes as we need them. And if a pool or stream only gives us opportunity, what can surpass the winter colouring of osier twigs—golden and crimson and olive, mirrored in still water or broken into a thousand reflections by the ripple of a running brook?
Perhaps, amongst all the wealth of winter evergreen shrubs the rank of those which show variegation is too much exaggerated. Popular as they are, the effect is not always good, unless more than ordinary care is taken in their placing. Some few, like the best golden and silver Hollies, are very beautiful, though not all of these are improvements upon the finest green forms. No variegated shrub, probably, is more universally grown than the Aucuba, and it has excellent points; it is hardy in constitution, handsome in outline, and bold of leaf. By ill-luck, as it happened, more than a hundred years ago, the spotted variety was sent home first from Japan, and became domiciled in English gardens and rooted in English affections before the far more worthy green species made its entry.
It is but a private opinion and not given as dogma that it might possibly be a distinct gain to gardens, large and small, if the spotted Aucuba were practically banished and the true green-leaved forms—some of which are generally beautiful when well set with large coral berries—allowed to take its place. The variegated Oleaster (Elæagnus pungens), a remarkably fine shrub when taken by itself, sadly disturbs the repose and dignity of the garden outlook in winter, though doubtless positions might be found in which it would harmonise with its surroundings.
We need only con over, mentally, all the more familiar examples of shrub variegation to find, probably, that we should do as well without a goodly proportion of them, though we may frankly admit some to be very handsome. The secret of our discontent, possibly, lies in the fact that variegation in plants that are normally green is not, in its essence, a sign of health but of wasting sickness. In any case, whatever our feelings may be on this particular point, it is well worth while to weigh the merits of each shrub, variegated or green, before we plant it, not only individually, but in relation to its neighbourhood to other garden associates, and more especially with regard to its winter aspect.
Mr. Bean writes as follows about the winter beauty of trees and shrubs: "Even in November and December there are trees and shrubs that brighten the garden with their coloured bark and fruits. Although not abundant, the members of this class are not used so extensively as they might be.
"Among Willows, for instance, there are the golden and red-barked varieties of Salix vitellina. These, though scarcely ever seen, are capable, when properly treated, of producing bright warm effects that are especially charming from November to February. When allowed to grow naturally this Willow—known popularly as the Golden Osier—forms a graceful tree of large size. Its twigs have a golden or red tinge, according to the variety, but on fully-grown trees these twigs are not large, and as it is, of course, the bark of the preceding summer's growth only that is coloured no very marked colour effect is produced. To obtain a really bright patch of colour it is necessary to plant these Willows in goodly-sized groups and to prune them hard back every spring. By treating them in this way a great cluster of long, wand-like growths is made every year, the bark over the whole of which becomes a bright yellow or red as winter approaches. An effective group is produced by mixing the red and yellow-barked varieties.
"Another striking Willow is Salix daphnoides. The young bark of this species is covered with a thick glaucous or vivid blue-white 'bloom.' S. acutifolia is similarly distinguished, though not quite so markedly. Different from any of these Willows, too, is the variety of S. triandra, with purplish-brown bark. To bring out fully the ornamental qualities of these Willows they should be treated as advised for Salix vitellina. All these Willows are especially charming near the edge of water. Not only are their moisture-loving propensities satisfied, but their beauty is doubled by reflection in the water.
"Somewhat similar to the Willows in the character of their bark, but useful in being adapted for drier situations, are the Cornels (Cornus). The best of the genus in this connexion are Cornus alba and its variety sibirica. They produce bark which for one or two seasons remains a bright red during the time the branches are leafless. A group of Cornus alba, with Chionodoxa Luciliæ or Winter Aconite planted thickly beneath, gives a very pleasing bit of colour early in the year. A yellow-barked form of Cornus stolonifera, known as flaviramea, deserves mention.