In my Garden
The stormy weather continuing, I have had to leave the cleanipg up of herbaceous borders because of the heaviness of the soil. Dry stalks have been cut down, including the last of the new-season phlox which did so well this year. The long, but not tedious job of cutting the hedges (not the yews, which have to be doue in early November) has brought me again to an intimate examination of the variety of colour and design which the autumn hedges offer. And life too ! I dis- turbed a giant brown rat soon after beginning work down the inside of the hedge. He climbed away stealthily, got out to the lane, and scuttled away like an L.C.C. tram travelling at top speed. I saw his black eyes, and the look he gave me was one of shrewd speculation rather than fear. Sloe, wild hop, hawthorn, holly, hazel-nut, rose-hip, bryony, woody nightshade, blackberry—these are only a few of the many fruits to attract the already trooping finches and sparrows.
One of my favourite apples is the Ellison Orange, because of its slight flavour of anisette. But it is an unfortunate tree in its predisposition to canker. One fine specimen in the vegetable garden has had to be doctored for the third time ; cut, painted, and mulched. It stands
there now iq its convalescence looking somewhat lop-sided because of the amputations. Another set-back this year is the celery-wilt. 1 find this to have been general in south-east England. Maybe the virus was in the seed, for I know that every care was taken in raising it, and in the planting out and binding during the summer. The trench was well stocked with matured compost and bonfire ash. A fine crab-apple tree planted ten years ago at the end of the strawberry beds has given a bumper crop this year—handsome crimson fruits thkt will soon become jelly ; a delectable addition to baked meats, as well as to the tea-table.
RICHARD C HURCH
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