Now for the flowers, or, if winter is coming on, the shrubs. Small Conifers do very well in winter-boxes, or Golden Privet, or Acuba, or tiny Box-trees. There is the widest range. Suppose we choose a set of the prettiest shrubs we can get, and plant between them and in front of them hardy bulbs, with a sprinkling of small-leafed Ivy to hang over the edge of the box. This will give us something pretty to look at throughout the winter and the early spring. We must water carefully, as required, and keep all foliage quite clean. There are hundreds of other schemes. The difficulty is to choose between them. It is a capital plan to take in a gardening paper. Many excellent journals can be had for one penny weekly, and any of their editors, when written to, are ready to give advice. They will tell us what are suitable plants for special situations, and ease our path by smoothing difficulties as they arise.
In April the time approaches for a quick change. We find shrubs no longer satisfy, and the early bulbs are over. We now want spring flowers, and can buy small ones ready to be planted at Covent Garden, or from any good florist near at hand. We can propagate them ourselves if we have ever so small a garden to fall back upon—if not, why, then we must buy from the shops and market-gardens. Aubrietia, Wallflowers, Anemones, Narcissus, Myosotis, Tulips, and Iris will all be coming on now, and their flowers are charming. At this season a little fresh mould may be advisable, and a good clean up.
In May we can make up hanging baskets for the balcony. Large ones do better than small, as a good body of soil can be kept in a more equable state of moisture. Fuchsias are lovely for the basket, and so are all kinds of trailing geraniums. Moss is of course indispensable, and small pieces will soon spread. Daisies, both white and yellow, are always ready and welcome. Alpine Strawberries hanging or trailing over a basket look very pretty.
June is here before we know where we are, and the long sweet summer days. Even our miniature gardens will keep us busy. Watering, staking, thinning out, and weeding—all these things will have to be done, as well as cutting off dead leaves. If a plant looks sickly, do not let that make us too sad. We had better take it out from among its fellows and nurse it up elsewhere. In Paris, there is a hospital for invalid plants, where they are taken care of and restored to health. I am afraid no one has yet started a Flower Hospital for London.
Petunias come on later, and are splendid plants for town people; they are brilliant, and do not put themselves out because of smoke and smuts. They climb about, and fling themselves all over the place, so it is a good plan to associate them with sturdy plants for a contrast, and the filling up of gaps.
Insects must be destroyed as they appear, but soap and water will keep them from appearing at all. A daily wash is the best thing in the world for town plants, and if we cannot give it every day, we must give it as often as we can.
Watering is always a difficult matter with beginners. No exact rules can be laid down. It is not like clock-winding or anything mechanical. Plants must be watered just when they want it, and if we give it them when they don’t, it makes them sick. Still, they must never be forgotten; if once allowed to get dust-dry, it is an injury from which they will not recover. We must watch them carefully, and shall thus soon learn their needs. Weather has a great deal to do with it. Wind and sun are wonderfully drying. During the heat of summer it is a good plan to water in the evening, so that the plants enjoy the moisture through the night. One axiom is drummed into the heads of all beginners, “Never water in the sunshine.” But sometimes one must do it to avoid casualties, and no harm need come of it if we water the ground thoroughly without touching the leaves or flowers. Let it be a good soak. To give water in driblets is fatal. After a little water, the upper surface of the soil may cake and dry and harden, and the plant be worse off than ever, or the water may run through some dry channel in the mould and never reach the roots at all. It is best to water pot-plants by standing them in a pail or tub, the water coming quite over the rim; the leaves can be washed separately, and should not be left too wet, which rots them; efforts must be made to get soft water. If we really are compelled to use hard, some good may be done by standing it for a time in shallow pans, or even in the water-pots we are going to use. This improves its temperature; it will be far better for the plants than cold hard water from the tap. Baby’s bath-water, when he has done with it, is excellent to water with.
Sometimes one sees the beginner put his pot-plants out in the rain, thinking it to be ever so generous to them. See that the leaves do not get all the wet, leaving none for the soil; this often happens, and the poor plants suffer thirst in the midst of plenty. We want to keep the leaves washed clean, so that the skin of the leaves can breathe (they are full of pores), but it is through their roots that plants drink in the water. Our interest in tending plants is enhanced tenfold by the study of their nature. Then common sense comes in to help us; anything like good gardening without this is nearly as impossible as it would be for doctors to cure their patients without having first been through a course of training in physiology and physics.
Plants in pots set out on the balcony do well if we stand them on a layer of coke ashes, or, indeed, any ashes that are going. Of course, we must hide them in some cunning way. Little pots of Campanulas, pink or white, drooping about are a help, and always decorative. So is Musk—delicious, delightful, shade-loving Musk! What a treat when the time for the Musk comes round! But Musk wants a great deal of watering, and we must never water its flowers, only its leaves; and no plant scorches up so easily in a hot sun. It just wants care, and to be in a sheltered, yet not altogether sunless place.
For the autumn many people like Asters. I am not very fond of Asters personally; but they are gay, and will pass in a crowd. Small Myrtles are helpful, but our Geraniums and Petunias, Ferns and Daisies may be relied on to keep us going till flower-time is over and we begin to be thankful for the small mercies of the evergreen old Ivy, and enjoy the colours of the Virginia Creeper, more beautiful than ever when reddened by the fiery fingers of the frost.