I tried to pick it back to life with the destruction of pods and a good watering, but it was no good, and I had to turn my attention to the other less advanced sweet-peas and try and keep them going; the heat seemed to scorch the bloom and hurry on the pod.
The established perennials may survive the drought; later rains may revive them, but to the poor little annuals it is good-bye for ever; and many a zinnia, stock, lobelia, and even marigold, though it is more hardy, had but a poor little starved life, and passed away with a tiny drooping head.
It was heart-breaking. Another year I must not have so large a family of these tender children. The hardy annuals which can be given straight away to Mother Earth's care fare better, and coming quicker to the flowering time are not so wasted. But those grown in boxes and transplanted claim more attention, and they could not have it; though to all water is a necessity, and they fade the sooner for its lack. The poor salpiglosis needs other soil; heavier, damper, I suppose, and some shade. I fear I must admire them in other people's gardens.
Griggs and the clanging tank on wheels was a poor substitute for the "blessed rain from heaven" that falls on all alike, while his unwilling steps could scarcely be induced to water those that lay nearest to his hand; and I could not expect him—even I could not—to water everywhere every day.
If I had water laid on! if I had a hose! how I would use it!
"Yes, and think of my bill," said his Reverence. I suppose this is the way they talk of the revenue in India when the poor people are starving.
Well, well, poor folk should not have more children than they can feed, so I must give my attention more especially to the deeper-rooted perennials, though even they hang limp-leaved and will reward me in the future only according to my treatment of them. It is the Law of the Universe.
Some patches of seedlings in a neighbouring garden made all my resolves to curtail expenditure in that direction fly in an instant.
These were Mother Earth's hardy babies; no boxes or transplanting were needed. It was a mass of the bright-coloured heads of the annual phlox which excited my admiration. They are more brilliant, though smaller, than their perennial sisters, and for cutting they are quite invaluable. They last, too, through three or four months. My garden must have them.
Another yellow patch caught my fancy. (I have a theory yellow flowers are hardiest; it is the primitive colour.) This was eschscholtzia, Californian poppy in other words. These seem to me indispensable; their grey-green leaves make the prettiest decoration.