Both on our north and south and west walls we plant Gloire-de-Dijon Roses along with purple Clematis, not for a succession of flowers, but so that they may bloom together. Few things in nature are more truly satisfactory than the way these two plants have of blossoming at the same time; the colours contrast so perfectly.
Passion-flowers and Clematis Montana are two creepers that, as a rule, do well on warm south walls. For a long time we revelled in these upon the house; but both are delicate. Even so far south as Surrey we found a very cold, damp winter would kill them, and it is dreadful to see an empty wall which once was full of leaves and blossoms, so we now grow these creepers in some sheltered corner; arch of door and window-mullion must have stronger plants.
No creepers are hardier than the Virginians, nor could any look prettier as they wreath above a porch. More than once the shelter of ours has been chosen for a rare bird’s nesting, and the author of a gardening dictionary was so taken with it that he begged for its photograph, as an illustration of that particular creeper, in his book. I have never known anything to kill this plant except drought or sunstroke. Do give it a little water in dry, hot weather. Our south wall has been the scene of many adventures in the plant world. There is a family legend about the Passion-flower that for years grew high enough to look in (along with the roses) at our chamber windows. It did not survive the foot-treads of Mr. Peace, the thief and murderer, who, one fine day at the luncheon hour, climbed up by it over a portico and into a bedroom, whence he made off with all the jewellery he could find; die the Passion-flower certainly did, and that before the following winter’s frost.
Another creeper of great value to the suburban gardener is Honeysuckle; the Dutch variety for its sweetness, the Japanese for its leaves of yellow, green, and gold. Not for the house, but for pergolas, or as a blind to hide “next door,” or for a rustic arbour, what is more cheerful than the Hop, which climbs to the height of many yards in one season, and drops its pretty blooms, that have so queer and pleasant a smell, as merrily in a sunny corner of any town garden as if it were clambering up the hop-poles of Kent or Sussex? Hop-bines might be used a great deal more freely than they are to hide unsightly outhouses and barren places, but even Hops want a little care; they must have some good stuff to grow into, and they do like sunshine. Gourds are magnificent for all these purposes. I know one gentleman who so much admires the leaves and flowers of the common domestic Vegetable Marrow that he cultivates it as an ornament and not for eating, much as the King of Siam grows carrots, with whose charming foliage he fell in love when sojourning in England.
Of all creepers we are familiar with, Clematis Montana is least tolerant of the knife. If we happen to meet with a very old one, that has been allowed to wander unchecked all over the place, and is untidy at the bottom, it is quite useless to attempt to cut and prune it into shape. Such treatment would be certain to destroy; it is better to take it away bodily and put in a new one. The yearly pruning already spoken of may be pursued in safety. Honeysuckles behave much in the same way as to their dislike of too much cutting, otherwise they give no trouble at all, and thrive in any garden soil that is fairly good. Sometimes one has to deal with old house-walls whereon neglected creepers show unsightly stems, and yet we cannot part with them, because of the value of the upper growth. The best thing to be done—so we find—is to plant some gay perennial climber that will hide defects. One of the best is the Morning Glory (Ipomœa) If given a sunny place, this creeper will throw up long free garlands every summer. The leaves are prettily shaped, and each new morning brings new buds, wonderful, twisted, spiral buds, that open into cup-shaped flowers, pink, or white, or blue, or streaked, or crimson.
Ivy deserves a chapter all to itself; it is the kindest and most beneficent climber in all the world, never shabby, never tired, blooming in November and December, when flowers are scarcest; and it owns such an endless variety of leaf-forms and colours that one might make an interesting garden by filling it with nothing but different kinds of Ivy. And the same Ivy behaves so differently at different periods of its life, that sometimes one can hardly believe one is not being cheated by a changeling. See the Ivy that is busy climbing up a tree or wall, how tightly it catches hold, and how industriously it wins its way to the very summit. No leisure now for play or flowering, it is a steady onward march—eyes right, no looking round; but once the top is reached there comes a change. Like a successful man of business, whose work is done, it has time now for life’s graces; the Ivy settles down and clusters, and bears flowers and berries. It loves pretty shapes and pictures—in short, takes kindly to the Arts.
For the borders of shrubberies no edgings are prettier than Gold and Silver Ivies trailed over stones or rock-work, and Irish Ivy is invaluable to fill bare patches under trees on lawns, where nothing else will grow, or for covering up old tree-stumps or unsightly barns or sheds. Ivy at first grows slowly. Any one who is impatient for immediate effect had better buy well-rooted plants of it in pots; by this means a good length can be secured at once. If a small piece is planted, a little lime-rubbish in the ground helps very much, and so does watering for a week or two till well-established, after which any Ivy can be trusted to look after itself. Ivy in London is no new favourite. Close to St. Paul’s Cathedral is a thoroughfare where once the Prebendaries of St. Paul lived peaceful lives in quaint old-fashioned houses, whose walls were smothered in it; houses and Ivy have disappeared, but the old name lingers—it is “Ivy Lane.”