© Edna Walling Estate.

Funny things, gardens, I think they like to be discovered, not shown off.

I shall never forget being shown a collection of gardens by the proud designer. His pride one could forgive him, but the halting at given spots just produced an irrepressible desire to giggle. I found myself outwardly expressing hollow words of praise, but inwardly irreverently wondering where he procured those wonderful English corduroy slacks. Coming home, I resolved that I too would have my halting spots ... the bad spots! Then the visitors could have a really good giggle ... they might even be moved to extend some suggestions. ...

I do know that I, for one, prefer the type of garden where as much permanent ground cover as possible clothes the earth; wherein, when it is once established, a spade rarely appears; where there are little surprises invented by Nature, patches of self-sown foxgloves, little colonies of that adorable alpine violet, which will so obligingly clothe the pathway's edge and run back under the columbines coming up in the least expected places and many other delights that await the one who gently hand-weeds her garden, steering off all who would help her 'clean it up'.

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