Amateur Gardencraft Part 8

Captain Hayward. Deep rose. Perfect in form.

Frau Carl Druschki. Pure white.

General Jacqueminot. Brilliant crimson. Very sweet.

Jules Margottin. Rosy crimson.

Mabel Morrison. White, delicately shaded with blush.

Magna Charta. Glowing carmine. A lovely flower.

Madame Gabriel de Luizet. Delicate pink. Exquisite.

Mrs. John Laing. Soft pink. Very fragrant.

Ulrich Brunner. Bright cherry red.

To increase the above list would be to duplicate colors, for nearly all the other kinds included in the dealers' lists are variations of the distinctive qualities of the above. The twelve named will give you more pleasure than a larger number of less distinctive kinds would, for in each merit stands out pre-eminent, and all the best qualities of the best Roses are represented in the list.

THE ROSE AS A SUMMER BEDDER

The amateur gardener may enjoy Roses from June to November if he is willing to take a little trouble for them. Not, however, with the material treated of in the chapter on "The Rose"--though what is said in it relative to the culture of the Hybrid Perpetual cla.s.s applies with considerable pertinence to the cla.s.ses of which I shall make special mention in this chapter--but with the summer-blooming sorts, such as the Teas, the Bengals, the Bourbons, and the Noisettes. These are cla.s.sed in the catalogues as ever-bloomers, and the term is much more appropriate to them than the term Hybrid Perpetual is to that section of the great Rose family, for all of the four cla.s.ses named above _are_ really ever-bloomers if given the right kind of treatment--that is, bloomers throughout the summer season. In them we find material from which it is easy to secure a constant supply of flowers from the beginning of summer to the closing in of winter.

In order to grow this cla.s.s of Roses well, one must understand something of their habits. They send out strong branches from the base of the plant, shortly after planting, and these branches will generally bear from five to eight blossoms. When all the buds on the branch have developed into flowers, nothing more can be expected from that branch in the way of bloom, unless it can be coaxed to send out other branches.

This it can be prevailed on to do by close pruning. Cut the old branch back to some point along its length--preferably near its base--where there is a strong "eye" or bud. If the soil is rich--and it can hardly be _too rich_, for these Roses, like those of the kinds treated of in the foregoing chapter, require strong food and a great deal of it in order to do themselves justice--this bud will soon develop into a vigorous branch which, like the original one, will bear a cl.u.s.ter of flowers. In order to keep a succession of bloom it is absolutely necessary to keep the plant producing new branches, as flowers are only borne on new growth. It will be noticed that the treatment required by these Roses is almost identical, so far, with that advised for the Hybrid Perpetuals. Indeed, the latter are summer ever-bloomers of a stronger habit than the cla.s.s I am now speaking about. That is about all the difference there is between them, up to this point, except as regards the flowering habit. The Hybrid Perpetual blooms profusely in June and July, but sparingly thereafter, while the ever-bloomers bloom freely all the season after they get a good start.

Fertilizer should be applied at least once a month. Not in large quant.i.ties, each time, but enough to stimulate a strong and healthy growth. The plants should be kept going ahead constantly. Let them get a check, and you will find it a difficult matter to get many flowers from them after that, the same season. Give them the treatment that results in continuous growth and you will have Roses in abundance up to the coming of cold weather. Of course plants so treated are not to be expected to attain much size. But who cares for large bushes if he can have fine flowers and plenty of them?

The blossoms from the Teas and their kindred are never as large as those of the June and the Hybrid Perpetual cla.s.ses, and, as a general thing, are not as brilliant in color. Some are delightfully fragrant, while some have no fragrance at all.

La France,--which is cla.s.sed as a Hybrid Tea, because it is the result of hybridizing one of the hardier varieties with a pure-blooded Tea variety,--is one of the finest Roses ever grown. It is large, and fine in form, rich, though not brilliant, in color, is a very free bloomer, and its fragrance is indescribably sweet. Indeed, all the sweetness of the entire Rose family seems concentrated in its peculiar, powerful, but, at the same time, delicate odor. Color, pale pink.

d.u.c.h.ess de Brabant is an old variety, popular years and years ago, but all the better for that, for its long-continued popularity proves it the possessor of exceptional merit. It is of very free development, and bears large quant.i.ties of flowers of silvery pink.

Viscountess Folkestone is, like La France, a Hybrid Tea. It is an excellent bloomer. Its color is a soft pink, shaded with cream, with reflexed petals. It has a rich, June-Rose fragrance.

Maman Cochet is, all things considered, one of the best of its cla.s.s. It blooms in wonderful profusion. It is a strong grower. Its color is a bright pink, overlaid with silvery l.u.s.tre. It is very double, and quite as lovely in bud as in the expanded flower.

[Ill.u.s.tration: TEA ROSE]

Hermosa is an old favorite. It is always in bloom when well cared for. Its rich carmine-rose flowers are very double, and are produced in prodigal profusion. But it lacks the charm of fragrance.

Caprice is a very peculiar variety. Its thick, waxen petals of rosy carmine are heavily blotched and striped with dark red, shading to crimson. It is most pleasing when the flower begins to expand.

Perle des Jardins is a most lovely Rose, of almost as rich a color as the famous Marechal Neil,--a deep, glowing yellow,--lovely beyond description. It is a very free bloomer, and should be given a place in all collections.

Sunset--another good bloomer--is a tawny yellow in color, flamed with fawn and coppery tints. It is an exquisite Rose.

Clothilde Soupert does not properly belong to either of the four cla.s.ses mentioned above, though of course closely related. It is catalogued as a Polyantha. Its habit is peculiar. It bears enormous quant.i.ties of flowers, with the greatest freedom of any Rose I have ever grown, but its blossoms are small, and are produced in cl.u.s.ters quite unlike those of the other members of the ever-blooming cla.s.s. Indeed, its habit of growth and flowering is quite like that of the Rambler varieties, on a small scale. But, unlike the Ramblers, its flowers are very double. They are produced at the extremity of the new branches, in cl.u.s.ters of fifteen to twenty and thirty. So many are there to each branch that you will find it advisable to thin out half of them if you want perfect flowers. In color it is a delicate pink on first opening, fading to almost white. At the centre of the flower it is a bright carmine. Give this variety a trial and you will be delighted with it.

It must not be understood that the above list includes all the desirable sorts adapted to general culture. It is simply a list of the most distinct varieties that respond satisfactorily to the treatment outlined, and from which the amateur gardener can expect the best results. There are scores of other varieties possessing exceptional merit, but many of them require the attention of the professional in order to give satisfaction, and are not what I feel warranted in recommending the amateur to undertake the culture of if large quant.i.ties of flowers are what he has in mind. Every one on the list given is a standard variety, and you will find that you have made no mistake in confining your selection to it.

I would advise the purchase of two-year-old plants. Younger plants seldom bloom with much profusion the first season.

Order your plants in April. Get them into the ground about the middle of May. Mulch the soil about them well. This will do away with the necessity of watering if the season happens to prove a dry one. In planting, be governed by the directions given in the chapter on "The Rose."

Try a bed of these ever-bloomers for a season and you will never afterward be without them. Other flowers will rival them in brilliance, perhaps, and may require less attention, but--they will not be Roses!

One fine Rose affords more pleasure to the lover of the best among flowers than a whole garden full of ordinary blossoms can, and this is why I urge all flower-loving people to undertake the culture of the ever-blooming cla.s.s of Roses, for I know they will give greater satisfaction than anything else you can grow.

In fall, the plants can be taken up, packed away in boxes of earth, and kept in the cellar over winter. Cut away almost the entire top when the plants are lifted. All that one cares to carry through the winter is the root of the plant.

THE DAHLIA

Thirty or forty years ago the Dahlia was one of our popular flowers.

That is, popular among those who aspired to "keep up with the times,"

and grow all the new plants that had real merit in them. At that time but one form of it was considered worth growing, and that was the very double, globular type of flower. The single varieties were looked upon as worthless.

After a time the popularity of the flower waned for some reason hard to account for, except on the theory that there are fas.h.i.+ons in flowers as in clothes. I presume that the true explanation is that we Americans are p.r.o.ne to run to extremes, and when we take up a plant and it becomes a favorite we overdo matters and tire of it because we see so much of it.

Then we relegate it to the background for a time, and after awhile we drag it out of the obscurity to which we temporarily consigned it as a penalty for its popularity, and straightway it comes into greater prominence than ever, precisely as does the cut of a sleeve or the style of hair-dressing. This explanation may not be very complimentary to American good sense or taste, but I think it goes to the root of the matter. It is sincerely to be hoped that the time will come when our flower-growing will have no trace of the fad about it, and that whatever we cultivate will grow into favor solely because of real merit, and that its popularity will be permanent. I am encouraged to think that such may be the case, for some of the favorite flowers of the day have held their own against all newcomers for a considerable period, and seem to be growing in favor every year. This is as it should be.

It used to be thought that the Dahlia could not be grown successfully at the north if it were not started into growth in the house, or greenhouse, very early in the season. Nine times out of ten the result was a weak, spindling plant by the time it was safe to put it into the ground--which was not until all danger from frost was over. Generally such plants were not strong enough to bloom until about the time frost came in fall, for it took them the greater part of the season to recover from the effect of early forcing, in which the vitality of the plant suffered almost to the point of extinction, and to which was added the ordeal of the change from in- to out-door conditions. "Our seasons are too short for it," was the universal verdict. "At the south it may do well, but there's no use in trying to do anything with it at the north unless one has a greenhouse, and understands the peculiarities of the plant better than the rank and file of flower-loving people can expect to." So it came about that its cultivation was given up by small gardeners, and it was seen only on the grounds of the wealthier people, who could afford the services of the professional gardener.

We have learned, of late years, that our treatment of the plant was almost the opposite of what was required.

Some eight or ten years ago, I ordered a collection of choice varieties of the Dahlia. I ordered them early in the season, expecting to start them into growth in pots as usual. For some reason they did not come until the last day of May. It was then too late to start them in the usual way, and I planted them in the garden, expecting they would amount to nothing.

The result was, to me, a most surprising one.

The place in which I planted them was one whose soil was very rich and mellow. It was near a pump, from which a great deal of water was thrown out every day.

In less than a week after planting, the tubers threw up strong shoots, and these grew very rapidly under the combined effects of rich soil, warmth, and plenty of moisture at the roots. Indeed, they went ahead so rapidly that I considered their growth a discouraging feature, as I felt sure it must be a weak one.

The result was that when the State Horticultural Society held its summer meeting in the village in which I resided, on the twenty-eighth of August, I placed on exhibition some of the finest specimens of Dahlia blossoms the members of the Society had ever seen, and carried off eight first premiums.

Since then I have never attempted to start my Dahlias in the house. I give them an extremely rich soil, spaded up to the depth of at least a foot and a half, and made so mellow that the new roots find it an easy matter to work their way through it. Water is applied freely during the season. I consider this an item of great importance, as I find that the plant fails to make satisfactory development when located in a dry place. A pailful of water a day is not too much to apply to each plant in a dry season.

The soil must be rich. In a poor soil development will be on a par with that of plants which have been given a dry place.

Because of the peculiar brittleness of the stalks of the Dahlia it is quite necessary to furnish them with good support. My plan is to set a stout stake by each plant, at planting-time. This should be at least five feet tall. I put it in place at the time of planting the tuber, because then I know just where the root of the future plant is, and can set the stake without injuring it. But if stake-setting is left until later in the season one runs a risk of breaking off some of the new tubers that have formed about the old one. I tie the main stalk of the plant to the stake with a strip of cloth instead of a string, as the latter will cut into the soft wood. Sometimes, if the plant sends up a good many stalks, it will be necessary to furnish additional support.

Unless some kind of support is given we are likely to get up some morning after a heavy rain, or a sudden wind, and find our plants broken down, and in attempting to save them we are pretty sure to complete the wreck, as a slight twist or turn in the wrong direction will snap the stalk off at its junction with the root.