A rock-garden, even in a simple way, is a great joy, and there is no reason why we should not try to possess one even in a town or in the suburbs. Writers in the best horticultural papers are sometimes a little discouraging; they tell us that the rock-garden near a house is out of place, and that it should never be made near trees, nor buildings, nor any other objects, but stand apart in stony isolation; they also tell us by no means to make a rockery ourselves, any more than we should try to mend a broken limb without the doctor: we are to call in an experienced garden-artist blessed with good taste, a knowledge of rocks, and the requirements of Alpine plants.
No doubt, the owners of large grounds and long purses will do well to take this advice, but people must cut their coats according to their cloth, and no one who does not mind taking a little trouble need despair. It is not so very difficult a matter to build a home for, and to get together, a pretty collection of Alpine and other rock-plants. One’s pains are well repaid, for no class of growing things is more interesting; besides this, we shall be in the fashion.
In our own garden, which I have said before is not a large one (close to other people’s houses, and much too full of trees), we have contrived to make two rock-gardens, one in shade and one in sunshine. Neither of them is far from our own house, and one is much too near some Fir trees; but the plants do not seem to mind either of these things in the very least.
The first thing we have to consider in establishing a rockery (after settling where to place it) is the rock, and “rock,” as we all know, is geology for every kind of earth and stone. Limestone is about the best rock we can choose; there are so many plants that love to live in it, and it is easier to procure than granite. Need it be said that we must not dream of using clinker? Stone is a little difficult to get, and dear to buy and cart about, but we lighted upon a cunning plan in getting ours. We looked up a neighbouring builder, and for a trifle and the cartage he let us have a number of disused steps and sinks and stones that came out of old houses, and to him were so much lumber; they were just the thing for us, and were already nicely weathered.
I think we knew the right way to build a rockery, for we had read many papers on the subject in The Garden, and also possessed Miss Jekyll’s delightful book on “Wall and Water Gardens,” the pictures in which are very helpful; and though we could not do all the best things that might be done, for want of room, we succeeded fairly well, but we had to superintend and do all except the heavy work ourselves. No gardener of the ordinary jobbing or suburban type can be trusted to make a rockery.
A ROCKERY
The natural soil of our garden made drainage requisite, so we began with that; then we laid in a store of loam, a little leaf-mould, and a great deal of coarse sand. Rock-plants look as if they grew on the surface, lying on it like water-flies upon a stream. This appearance is deceitful; they have particularly long roots, which strike down any distance in search of food. No one, therefore, need expect to have a successful rockery who first dumps his stones down in a heap, and then piles the earth on the top of them. Each stone or piece of rock must be planted firmly, ends pointing downwards, as in building a flint wall, so that roots can run down easily through the soil between them; and it is best to work after a plan, arranging the “rock” in a sort of orderly disorder like a stratification, with here and there a “fault.” So anxious were we to make our rockery look natural, that we referred to one of Mr. Geikie’s geology books, and chose our style of stratification from that.
It was a long time before we managed to place the stones exactly to our minds, but we did succeed at last, after one or two trials and a few alterations. Then came a period of waiting till things had settled down. We gave temporary lodgings among the rocks to tufts of London Pride, the pretty pink Saxifrage, that so well deserves its name and is so invaluable a plant in any difficult garden, as it will grow anywhere and remains in bloom so many months. Creeping Jenny was another stop-gap, quite as hardy as London Pride, and flowering almost directly after you plant it, if it is given a little water and some sunshine; Lung-wort and common Campanulas we put in too, with odds and ends of all the weedy things that inhabit every garden and consider themselves, as it were, joint owners of it. We robbed the Herb-border, too, of bits of gold and silver Thyme, that so much loves growing on a bank and is so fragrant; these latter were allowed to stay, and we would have had Balm too, had space permitted.
Later on came a visit to Mr. Barr’s nursery-ground, from whence we drove home the richer by a number of little sandy pots, in each pot a treasure. Whenever I visit this flowery region in search of Daffodils, I never can find time to admire the Daffodils because of being so taken up with rock plants. They are grown so beautifully here; with nothing but flat fields to work upon, a stretch of rocks has been imported into them so skilfully as to wear a very natural look, and one cannot walk among them without taking an object-lesson on the beauty of bold effects. After falling in love with wide expanses of trailing, creeping, rooting, and clinging Alpine and native rock-plants, one can visit the open frames where small pieces of them are growing in pots. Nothing could be more convenient or pleasanter than the choosing of these and the bearing of them away in safety to individual hearts and homes. Grown in pots, the most delicate things can be moved in safety.
The great danger among so much that attracts is that of being tempted to buy more sorts and kinds of plants than can have justice done them in a small garden; much wiser is it to choose but a few of the best, and let those have space to grow and spread. A cranny can always be found for any rarity, but no “scrappy” rockery, any more than a “scrappy” garden, will ever make for beauty.
In a gardening paper the other day there was a piece of advice that amused us by its naïveté. It was, “never to buy plants, but always to get them given you by friends, because that way you get much bigger pieces.” Certainly friends who have a well-established rockery can assist greatly, and a hamper sent us one October was a treasure-trove indeed, not only for the plants we saw and handled, but also for its waifs and strays. Like the magic ferry-boat, that hamper had brought more travellers than eye could see. Next summer they appeared. One was a vigorous plant of bright pink Yarrow, another a fairy Flax (oh, what a delicious blue!), and one day a weird-looking stranger popped up suddenly. He had a beautiful cream-coloured suit, and peacock’s eyes, which the gardener said quite frightened him. His name we discovered afterwards was Calochortus, a Lily from California, which is supposed to require a good deal of warmth and some care, so we were very proud of his appearance in our rockery.
We contrived to find room for many pretty things: Campanula Bavarica, in falls of azure blue; the white Iberis and Arabis, double and single; yellow Alysum; Aubrietia, pink and mauve; as well as one or two Rock Pinks and some crimson Thrift. The Bird’s-eye Primrose, and Rock Primulas, and Alpine Poppies (these are lovely), we could not run to for want of space.
Saxifrages are a blessing in the shady rockery. Here, as well as the sunshiny one, mossy and encrusted Saxifrages do very well. Some of the mossy Saxifrages are early bloomers, opening in February with large white flowers, in striking contrast to their tufted dark-green leaves. The encrusted Saxifrages are the most wonderful of rock-plants; any one unfamiliar with their shining silver edges might fancy the foliage were frosted; but the edging is really an incrustation of lime. In some form or other lime is a food these plants must have, or they cannot thrive; it is pretty to see them using their food-stuff to adorn themselves as well as in support of life. Some small Saxifrages we liked are S. sancta, with yellow flowers, S. oppositifolia, with red-purple blooms, and the double-flowered native S. granulata. Perhaps the handsomest of all is S. longifolia, which grows in huge rosettes, throwing from the centre of each a panicle of creamy white flower nearly two feet long.
Wall-planting is easier to manage in the small garden than the rockery because it so economizes space. Many, in fact most, rock-plants do well in walls if made with mould enough to give root-room. A double wall is a delightful thing. On the broad top of it Roses can be planted, and soft-stemmed Roses look even prettier when falling down than when climbing up. Pink blossoms are lovely on grey stone. Cerastium’s grey foliage should always rove about among the green things; grey leaves are so pretty, and there are many plants of this colour. The Cotton plant, often called French Lavender, is a good one. Anemone apennina is a wall and rock plant that ought to be mentioned first instead of last; Anemone sylvestris and hepatica also love the stones, and so do the homely Houseleeks that remind us of cottage roofs, and the grey-green Cobweb-leeks that are smothered in downy thread.
A ROCKERY IN EARLY SUMMER
It would be quite easy to make a beautiful rock or wall garden without going away from our own country to people it; many of our common native stone-loving plants are so good. Snap-dragons are grand, and we could have Foxgloves, the great Mulleins and the delicate Stitchwort, the shining Crane’s-bell—so scarlet of leaf as summer wanes—the Wall-Pennywort, and the pink-flowered tiny Toad-flax. Some Ferns, too, could find a place in it, Cetrach and Wall-Rue in the sun, and Polypody and the black-stemmed Adiantum nigrum anywhere. Polypodies run freely about the joints of walls, and will keep green all the winter.
The three commonest of our English wall-plants are those we love most dearly; they are Thrift, Wallflower, and Red Valerian. Our own Valerian was brought from the top of a castle-wall in the Isle of Wight, close to the sea, wind-swept and bathed in sunshine. There were masses of it, in patches of deep crimson; we took some while it was in full flower, in spite of the risk. No easy matter was it to get a root, so deeply had every one gone down between the stones, but we managed to secure one or two with fibre on them, and these have grown and spread. Wallflowers are never so happy as on stone-work with air and light all round them, and they are all the better for the slight protection given by a wall. Ivy-leaved Toad-flax was growing merrily near the Valerian, and was not half so difficult to get out. All of these are now quite content in the suburban garden to which they were brought, and in which they thrive and bloom, the red Valerian a special joy to every pussy-cat.
One pleasing thought may cheer the most disheartened while going through the troubles of making a rockery; it will be a delicious salve to one’s conscience when running away with roots of dainty little plants from wall, or moor, or mountain, either in England or abroad, to know that at home a comfortable shelter is awaiting them where not even the Edelweis need feel the pangs of Heimweh. Flowers we bring home that live and grow are about the pleasantest log-books it is possible to possess.
This is what Tennyson says, and the question is easily answered by another: Could it have a better use than to bring happiness to those who dearly love the country and its flowers, but are obliged by stress of circumstance to live their lives in towns?