THE mild climate of south-western Scotland is most advantageous for gardening. Hydrangeas and Myrtles flourish, Fuchsias grow into bushes eight to ten feet high. Mr. Oswald’s garden lies upon the river Ayr, a few miles distant from the town of Ayr. The house stands boldly on a crag just above the river, which makes its music below, tumbling over rocky shelves and rippling over shingle-bedded shallows. For nearly a mile the garden follows the river bank, in free fashion as befits the place. Trees are in plenty and of fine growth, both on the garden side and the opposite river shore. Here and there an opening in the trees on the further shore shows the distant country. The garden occupies a large space; the grouping of the shrubs and trees taking a wilder character in the portions furthest away from the house, so that, mingling at last with native growth, garden gradually dies away into wild. Large undulating lawns give a sense of space and freedom and easy access.
That close, fine turf of the gardens of Britain is a thing so familiar to the eye that we scarcely think what a wonderful thing it really is. When we consider our flower and kitchen gardens, and remember how much labour of renewal they need—renewal not only of the plants themselves, but of the soil, in the way of manurial and other dressings; and when we consider all the digging and delving, raking and hoeing that must be done as ground preparation, constantly repeated; and then when we think again of an ancient lawn of turf, perhaps three hundred years old, that, except for moving and rolling, has, for all those long years, taken care of itself; it seems, indeed, that the little closely interwoven plants of grass are things of wonderful endurance and longevity. The mowing prevents their blooming, so that they form but few fresh plants from seed. Imperceptibly the dying of the older plants is going on, and the hungry root-fibres of their younger neighbours are feeding on the decaying particles washed into the earth.
AUCHINCRUIVE
FROM THE PICTURE IN THE POSSESSION OF MR. R. A. OSWALD
But whether lawns could exist at all without the beneficent work of the earthworms is very doubtful. Every one has seen the little heaps of worm-castings upon grass, but it remained for Darwin, after his own long experiment and exhaustive observation, partly based upon and comprehending the conclusions of other naturalists, to tell us how largely the fertility of our surface soil is due to the unceasing work of these small creatures. Worms swallow large quantities of earth and decaying leaves, and Darwin’s observations led him “to conclude that all the vegetable mould over the whole country has passed many times through, and will again pass many times through the intestinal canals of worms.” This, indeed, is the only way in which it is possible for a person with any knowledge of the needs of plant-life, to conceive the possibility of any one closely-packed crop occupying the same space of ground for hundreds of years. The soil, as it passes, little by little, through the bodies of the worms, undergoes certain chemical changes which fit it afresh for its ever-renewed work of plant-sustenance.
There are some who, viewing the castings as an eyesore on their lawns, cast about for means of destroying the worms. This is unwise policy, and would soon lead to the impoverishment of the grass. The castings, when dry, are easily broken down by the roller or the birch-broom, and the grass receives the beneficent top-dressing that assures its well-being and healthy continuance.
The only part of the garden at Auchincruive that is obedient to rectangular form, is the kitchen garden and the ground about it. The kitchen garden lies some way back from the house and river, and, with its greenhouses, is for the most part hidden by two long old yew hedges which run in the direction of the river. One of these appears in the picture, with its outer ornament of bright border of autumn flowers. Here are Tritomas, Gypsophila in mist-like clouds, tall Evening Primrose and Campanula pyramidalis, both purple and white, with many other good hardy flowers.
The red-leaved tree illustrates a question which often arises in the writer’s mind as to whether trees and shrubs of this coloured foliage, such as Prunus Pissardi and Copper Beech and Copper Hazel are not of doubtful value in the general garden landscape. Trees of the darkest green, as this very picture shows by its dark upright yews, are always of value, but the red-leaved tree, though in the present case it has been tenderly treated by the artist, is apt to catch the eye as a violent and discordant patch among green foliage. Especially is this the case with the darker form of copper beech, which, in autumn, takes a dull, solid, heavy kind of colour, especially when seen from a little distance, that is often a disfiguring blot in an otherwise beautiful landscape.
The same criticism may occasionally apply to trees of conspicuous golden foliage, but errors in planting these, though often made, may easily be avoided by suitable grouping and association with white and yellow flowers. Indeed it would be delightful to work out a whole golden garden.
THE YEW ARBOUR, LYDE
FROM THE PICTURE IN THE POSSESSION OF MR. GEORGE E. B. WREY
