A ROCKERY
The natural soil of our garden made drainage requisite, so we began with that; then we laid in a store of loam, a little leaf-mould, and a great deal of coarse sand. Rock-plants look as if they grew on the surface, lying on it like water-flies upon a stream. This appearance is deceitful; they have particularly long roots, which strike down any distance in search of food. No one, therefore, need expect to have a successful rockery who first dumps his stones down in a heap, and then piles the earth on the top of them. Each stone or piece of rock must be planted firmly, ends pointing downwards, as in building a flint wall, so that roots can run down easily through the soil between them; and it is best to work after a plan, arranging the “rock” in a sort of orderly disorder like a stratification, with here and there a “fault.” So anxious were we to make our rockery look natural, that we referred to one of Mr. Geikie’s geology books, and chose our style of stratification from that.
It was a long time before we managed to place the stones exactly to our minds, but we did succeed at last, after one or two trials and a few alterations. Then came a period of waiting till things had settled down. We gave temporary lodgings among the rocks to tufts of London Pride, the pretty pink Saxifrage, that so well deserves its name and is so invaluable a plant in any difficult garden, as it will grow anywhere and remains in bloom so many months. Creeping Jenny was another stop-gap, quite as hardy as London Pride, and flowering almost directly after you plant it, if it is given a little water and some sunshine; Lung-wort and common Campanulas we put in too, with odds and ends of all the weedy things that inhabit every garden and consider themselves, as it were, joint owners of it. We robbed the Herb-border, too, of bits of gold and silver Thyme, that so much loves growing on a bank and is so fragrant; these latter were allowed to stay, and we would have had Balm too, had space permitted.
Later on came a visit to Mr. Barr’s nursery-ground, from whence we drove home the richer by a number of little sandy pots, in each pot a treasure. Whenever I visit this flowery region in search of Daffodils, I never can find time to admire the Daffodils because of being so taken up with rock plants. They are grown so beautifully here; with nothing but flat fields to work upon, a stretch of rocks has been imported into them so skilfully as to wear a very natural look, and one cannot walk among them without taking an object-lesson on the beauty of bold effects. After falling in love with wide expanses of trailing, creeping, rooting, and clinging Alpine and native rock-plants, one can visit the open frames where small pieces of them are growing in pots. Nothing could be more convenient or pleasanter than the choosing of these and the bearing of them away in safety to individual hearts and homes. Grown in pots, the most delicate things can be moved in safety.
The great danger among so much that attracts is that of being tempted to buy more sorts and kinds of plants than can have justice done them in a small garden; much wiser is it to choose but a few of the best, and let those have space to grow and spread. A cranny can always be found for any rarity, but no “scrappy” rockery, any more than a “scrappy” garden, will ever make for beauty.
In a gardening paper the other day there was a piece of advice that amused us by its naïveté. It was, “never to buy plants, but always to get them given you by friends, because that way you get much bigger pieces.” Certainly friends who have a well-established rockery can assist greatly, and a hamper sent us one October was a treasure-trove indeed, not only for the plants we saw and handled, but also for its waifs and strays. Like the magic ferry-boat, that hamper had brought more travellers than eye could see. Next summer they appeared. One was a vigorous plant of bright pink Yarrow, another a fairy Flax (oh, what a delicious blue!), and one day a weird-looking stranger popped up suddenly. He had a beautiful cream-coloured suit, and peacock’s eyes, which the gardener said quite frightened him. His name we discovered afterwards was Calochortus, a Lily from California, which is supposed to require a good deal of warmth and some care, so we were very proud of his appearance in our rockery.
We contrived to find room for many pretty things: Campanula Bavarica, in falls of azure blue; the white Iberis and Arabis, double and single; yellow Alysum; Aubrietia, pink and mauve; as well as one or two Rock Pinks and some crimson Thrift. The Bird’s-eye Primrose, and Rock Primulas, and Alpine Poppies (these are lovely), we could not run to for want of space.
Saxifrages are a blessing in the shady rockery. Here, as well as the sunshiny one, mossy and encrusted Saxifrages do very well. Some of the mossy Saxifrages are early bloomers, opening in February with large white flowers, in striking contrast to their tufted dark-green leaves. The encrusted Saxifrages are the most wonderful of rock-plants; any one unfamiliar with their shining silver edges might fancy the foliage were frosted; but the edging is really an incrustation of lime. In some form or other lime is a food these plants must have, or they cannot thrive; it is pretty to see them using their food-stuff to adorn themselves as well as in support of life. Some small Saxifrages we liked are S. sancta, with yellow flowers, S. oppositifolia, with red-purple blooms, and the double-flowered native S. granulata. Perhaps the handsomest of all is S. longifolia, which grows in huge rosettes, throwing from the centre of each a panicle of creamy white flower nearly two feet long.
Wall-planting is easier to manage in the small garden than the rockery because it so economizes space. Many, in fact most, rock-plants do well in walls if made with mould enough to give root-room. A double wall is a delightful thing. On the broad top of it Roses can be planted, and soft-stemmed Roses look even prettier when falling down than when climbing up. Pink blossoms are lovely on grey stone. Cerastium’s grey foliage should always rove about among the green things; grey leaves are so pretty, and there are many plants of this colour. The Cotton plant, often called French Lavender, is a good one. Anemone apennina is a wall and rock plant that ought to be mentioned first instead of last; Anemone sylvestris and hepatica also love the stones, and so do the homely Houseleeks that remind us of cottage roofs, and the grey-green Cobweb-leeks that are smothered in downy thread.
