I considered the iris roots for some time, and then determined to give the German variety a place all to themselves. Strained political relations had nothing to do with my decision, but when not on show the knife-like leaves and twisting roots are not particularly pleasing; so, before his Reverence could forbid, I had my iris row down a side border. The kitchen garden is cut by a most convenient number of paths, and Griggs has no objection to my taking from his space.
Then for the middle division I had some of my nurslings ready. More oriental poppies, in groups of three for the present; campanulas, also in threes, but with room for each one to expand; penstemons, but these were cuttings that had been given me, and though promised a place here they were kept for their first winter in the frame and only figured on my paper border. Gaillardias, most promising plants, which even in this their first year had given me one or two of their "effective" blooms, were placed singly; my small and not very satisfactory chrysanthemums were moved forward from the background, where they had been hidden. Michaelmas daisies also were in this division, and my Canterbury-bells and sweet-Williams, though they were not to be permanent plants, and might come out year by year when their duty was done. The doronicums were there and the bleeding heart, and old Lovell's two Turks' heads in sturdy independence, and I added a few clumps of crown imperials. Coreopsis, at five shillings a dozen, joined the show, and montbresias, those that were over from my new border, and in time gladiolas also I hoped, but I had to remember my limitations.
In front came groups of columbines and Iceland poppy, the small roots of campanula, the geum already there; and I collected from its scattered hiding-places all the Solomon's seal I could find, and grouped it behind the geums, for I noticed how well those two bore each other company. A few patches of Japanese irises I allowed myself, and again I tried the anemones. Neat labels marked the burying-places of those things that prefer to pass the winter with their heads underground.
I think that border, in spite of its many disadvantages, ought to make something of a show, not only on paper.
There are other things I hope to have in time for this my old-fashioned border. There is honesty, almost nicer in sound than in reality; and lavender must come here, or where will be the old fashion? Also the "Saracen-head thumping balls" of the purple thistle, and the blue-green sea-holly. Tritoma, called in the vulgar tongue "red poker," ought to have a place in the background. Then rocket, purple and white, is a neat, spikey little plant that should be represented, and I have no doubt that I shall be introduced to many more. If I love them at all, and if they can become at all reconciled to my soil, they shall find a home here.
Of course, with so many alterations to be made, and so many new-comers to be welcomed, I had again to break all rules and regulations belonging to a herbaceous border. Griggs and a spade, fatal things both of them, had to be tolerated, and roots disturbed, for in the spring my arrangements had been very happy-go-lucky. Now, armed with a certain amount of information, I hoped to settle things more permanently.
But when the length and depth of that border had been worked I felt that my life's task was finished, and I never went near it for three whole days.
