THE GENERAL PLAN OR THEORY OF THE PLACE - Continued
These masses in Figs. 10, 11, and 12 have their own intrinsic merits, as
well as their office in defining a bit of nature. One is attracted by
the freedom of arrangement, the irregularity of sky-line, the bold
bays and promontories, and the infinite play of light and shade. The
observer is interested in each because it has character, or features,
that no other mass in all the world possesses. He knows that the birds
build their nests in the tangle and the rabbits find it a covert.
Now let the reader turn to Fig. 9, which is a picture of an "improved"
city yard. Here there is no structural outline to the planting, no
defining of the area, no continuous flow of the form and color. Every
bush is what every other one is or may be, and there are hundreds like
them in the same town. The birds shun them. Only the bugs find any
happiness in them. The place has no fundamental design or idea, no lawn
upon which a picture may be constructed. This yard is like a sentence or
a conversation in which every word is equally emphasized.
[Illustration: Fig. 13. An open treatment of a school-ground. More trees
might be placed in the area, if desired.]
In bold contrast with this yard is the open-center treatment in Fig. 13.
Here there is pictorial effect; and there is opportunity along the
borders to distribute trees and shrubs that may be desired as individual
specimens.
[Illustration: Fig. 14. A rill much as nature made it.]
[Illustration: Fig. 15. A rill "improved," so that it will not look
"ragged" and unkempt.]
The motive that shears the trees also razes the copse, in order that the
gardener or "improver" may show his art. Compare Figs. 14 and 15. Many
persons seem to fear that they will never be known to the world unless
they expend a great amount of muscle or do something emphatic or
spectacular; and their fears are usually well founded.
It is not enough that trees and bushes be planted in masses. They must
be kept in masses by letting them grow freely in a natural way. The
pruning-knife is the most inveterate enemy of shrubbery. Pictures 16 and
17 illustrate what I mean. The former represents a good group of bushes
so far as arrangement is concerned; but it has been ruined by the
shears. The attention of the observer is instantly arrested by the
individual bushes. Instead of one free and expressive object, there are
several stiff and expressionless ones. If the observer stops to
consider his own thoughts when he comes upon such a collection, he will
likely find himself counting the bushes; or, at least, he will be making
mental comparisons of the various bushes, and wondering why they are not
all sheared to be exactly alike. Figure 17 shows how the same "artist"
has treated two deutzias and a juniper. Much the same effect could have
been secured, and with much less trouble, by laying two flour barrels
end to end and standing a third one between them.
[Illustration: 16. The making of a good group, but spoiled by the
pruning shears.]
[Illustration: 17. The three guardsmen.]
[Illustration: Fig. 18 A bit of semi-rustic work built into a native
growth]
I must hasten to say that I have not the slightest objection to the
shearing of trees. The only trouble is in calling the practice art and
in putting the trees where people must see them (unless they are part of
a recognized formal-garden design). If the operator simply calls the
business shearing, and puts the things where he and others who like them
may see them, objection could not be raised. Some persons like painted
stones, others iron bulldogs in the front yard and the word "welcome"
worked into the door-mat, and others like barbered trees. So long as
these likes are purely personal, it would seem to be better taste to put
such curiosities in the back yard, where the owner may admire them
without molestation
There is a persistent desire among workmen to shear and to trim: it
displays their industry. It is a great thing to be able to allow the
freedom of nature to remain. The artist often builds his structures into
a native planting (as in Fig. 18) rather than to trust himself to
produce a good result by planting on razed surfaces.
In this discussion, I have tried to enforce the importance of the open
center in non-formal home grounds in greensward regions. Of course this
does not mean that there may not be central planting in particular cases
where the conditions distinctly call for it nor that there may not be
trees on the lawn. If one has the placing of the trees, he may see that
they are not scattered aimlessly; but if good trees are already growing
on the place, it would be folly to think of removing them merely because
they are not in the best ideal positions; in such case, it may be very
necessary to adapt the treatment of the area to the trees. The
home-maker should always consider, also, the planting of a few trees in
such places as to shade and protect the residence: the more closely they
can be made a part of the general design or handling of the place, the
better the results will be.
The flower-growing should be part of the design.
I do not mean to discourage the use of brilliant flowers and bright
foliage and striking forms of vegetation; but these things are never
primary considerations in a good domain. The structural elements of the
place are designed first. The flanking and bordering masses are then
planted. Finally the flowers and accessories are put in, as a house is
painted after it is built. Flowers appear to best advantage when seen
against a background of foliage, and they are then, also, an integral
part of the picture. The flower-garden, as such, should be at the rear
or side of a place, as all other personal appurtenances are; but flowers
and bright leaves may be freely scattered along the borders and near the
foliage masses.
It is a common saying that many persons have no love or appreciation of
flowers, but it is probably nearer to the truth to say that no person is
wholly lacking in this respect. Even those persons who declare that they
care nothing for flowers are generally deceived by their dislike of
flower-beds and the conventional methods of flower-growing. I know many
persons who stoutly deny any liking for flowers, but who, nevertheless,
are rejoiced with the blossoming of the orchards and the purpling of the
clover fields. The fault may not lie so much with the persons themselves
as with the methods of growing and displaying the flowers.
Defects in flower-growing.
The greatest defect with our flower-growing is the stinginess of it. We
grow our flowers as if they were the choicest rarities, to be coddled in
a hotbed or under a bell-jar, and then to be exhibited as single
specimens in some little pinched and ridiculous hole cut in the turf, or
perched upon an ant-hill that some gardener has laboriously heaped oh a
lawn. Nature, on the other hand, grows many of her flowers in the most
luxurious abandon, and one can pick an armful without offense. She grows
her flowers in earnest, as a man grows a crop of corn. One can revel in
the color and the fragrance and be satisfied.
The next defect with our flower-growing is the flower-bed. Nature has no
time to make flower-bed designs: she is busy growing flowers. And, then,
if she were given to flower-beds, the whole effect would be lost, for
she could no longer be luxurious and wanton, and if a flower were picked
her whole scheme might be upset. Imagine a geranium-bed or a coleus-bed,
with its wonderful "design," set out into a wood or in a free and open
landscape! Even the birds would laugh at it!
What I want to say is that we should grow flowers freely when we make a
flower-garden. We should have enough of them to make the effort worth
the while. I sympathize with the man who likes sunflowers. There are
enough of them to be worth looking at. They fill the eye. Now show this
man ten feet square of pinks or asters, or daisies, all growing free and
easy and he will tell you that he likes them. All this has a particular
application to the farmer, who is often said to dislike flowers. He
grows potatoes and buckwheat and weeds by the acre: two or three unhappy
pinks or geraniums are not enough to make an impression.