“A something in a summer’s day,
As slow its flambeaux burn away
Which solemnizes me.”

THIS, August, is the month, when, if ever, the gardener may claim a well-earned rest. The vigorous determination of weeds seems somewhat daunted, staking is, or should be, done, all “bedding out” is accomplished, and there is little to do save watering and cultivating and the occasional guidance of the seeking, reaching arms of climbing Roses and other vines. Of course, the aster beetle may have arrived in staggering hordes, moles may be tunnelling imperturbably beneath one’s most precious plants, or the garden may be drying up in the fierce clutches of relentless drought — any of which misfortunes would keep one busy. But these are not certainties, and ordinarily one may spend a good deal of time wandering about the garden, dreaming dreams of future improvement or just idly enjoying the fruits of one’s labours. Strange to say, it is the time when I enjoy the garden least. I do not quite like this feeling that my plants are not so dependent upon me and that if I should leave them for a while they would do very well until I got back. I miss the incentive of the crowded days of early spring and am apt to wax over-critical of my garden and dissatisfied with my efforts to make it beautiful. Now is perhaps the one time of the year when we are able to survey the garden with the cold eye of a visitor and see just what is wrong, and it is well that such a pause should be forced upon us, else we should never improve our gardens. The fall bulb lists are arriving and the spring pictures should be restudied and bulbs added to any parts of the garden that we remember as having lacked colour in the spring. Now is the time to order and set out the scaly bulbs that mean shimmering white lilies in June and July, and also those small bulbs, so graciously inexpensive, that promise us ranks of gay Spanish Iris.

Nowadays the garden is riotous with annuals, if we have allowed many, of them in, and many of July’s flowers are still making a brave show. Among these are Hollyhocks, Moonpenny Daisies, Mulleins, Loosestrife, Monkshood, Veronicas, Tiger Lilies, Globe Thistles, Sea Hollies, and Anthemis, but the dominant figure of the August garden is the Phlox.

This plant is a native, and with true American perspicacity and enterprise has forged his way from magenta obscurity to the most prominent place in the floral world. The Phlox, in the words of the cataloguist, is certainly “the grandest, hardy perennial,” brilliant, easy to manage, self-supporting, quickly increased, fragrant, and beautiful. No plant, known to me, makes such solid colour-masses or is more orderly and upright in its habit. It usually enjoys the best of health, and I know of only one disease which attacks it and this is not usual; it is fungous in character and is more apt to attack the plants in low, damp situations. The old purple parent of the gorgeous modern Phioxes will grow and thrive in any situation, but the modern beauties need good rich food and water in dry weather if they are to develop their huge flower heads to anything like the size we are encouraged to expect. A dry poor soil is no place for them, but they do very well in partial shade. Bone meal and superphosphate may be used to strengthen the plants and round out the great flower heads. They may be planted either in spring or fall, but I have had the best results from early fall planting as this allows the plant to become established before summer droughts which are very hard upon newly planted stock. Old plants need to be broken up and replanted about every third year and the faded blossoms should be cut off before seed forms, as seedlings become a real pest, seldom coming true to the colour of the parent and usually exhibiting strong magenta traits which prevent their living in amity with their blood relations. Phloxes, nowadays, show many fine colours: all shades of pink, scarlet, cerise, lavender and purple, and white, with or without a pink eye. If more than one variety is to be used in a group careful study of the colours is advised either in a nearby nursery or by buying one each of a number of kinds, for some of the pinks and scarlets and lavenders are badly opposed to each other, while others blend charmingly.

Each year many novelties with alluring descriptions are introduced, but the list below is chosen from those of tested worth:

Aurore — salmon-scarlet — purple eye                3 feet
America — salmon-pink — deeper eye                2 1/2 feet
Africa — dark cherry colour                                2 1/2 feet
Albion — creamy-white — pink eye                    2 1/2 feet
Antonin Mercie — white — lilac margin             3 feet
Baron Van Dedem — bright scarlet                      2 feet
Coquelicot — orange-scarlet                                2 feet
Count Von Hochberg — maroon                          3 feet
Eclaireur — carmine shading to cream                   3 feet
Elizabeth Campbell — salmon shading to pink.      2 1/2 feet
Eugene Danzanvilliers — lilac — white eye            3 feet
Etna — orange-scarlet                                         3 1/2 feet
Frau Anton Buchner — pure white                        3 feet
G. H. Strohlein — orange scarlet — carmine eye   3 1/2 feet
Hanny Pfleiderer — cream, changing to salmon      3 feet
Javanaise — white — lilac edge                             4 feet
Mad. Paul Dutrie — pale pink — white centre       3 feet
Mrs. Oliver — salmon — light eye                         2 1/2 feet
Rijnstroom — rich salmon                                     2 1/2 feet
Siebold — orange-scarlet — dark eye                   3 feet
Mrs. Jenkins — pure white                                    3 feet
Gen. Van Heutsz — salmon-red — white eye        3 feet
Peachblow — exquisite pink                                  3 feet
Tapis Blanc — pure white                                      2 feet
Wm. Robinson — salmon — violet centre              4 feet

The best of the July-blooming Phloxes (which belong to the Suifruticosa group) is Miss Lingard, white with pale eye.

An important new race of Phloxes has been recently introduced, called P. Arendsi. They are the result of a cross between the charming P. divaricata and P. decussata. The plants are of strong branching habit, from one to two feet tall, and bloom the latter part of May. The flowers are large and the colour — frequently that of the lovely P. divaricata — clear lilac.

Sea Hollies and Globe Thistles are particularly effective with the August-flowering Phioxes, and another plant happy with the pink and salmon sorts is Clematis davidiana, with opaque lavender blossoms, which last a long time in good condition. The great Sea Lavender, Statice latifolia, with its huge heads of mauve-coloured, mist-like bloom, is lovely with P. Mad. Paul Dutrie, or Mrs. Oliver. This Sea Lavender grows about two feet high, sending up its flower spikes from a tuft of rather coarse leaves. It requires a rich soil, and frequent division is neither necessary nor desirable.

Groups of white and lavender Phlox are much improved by sheaves of flaming Montbretias, or orange-scarlet Snapdragons. The gray-foliaged plants are lovely with groups of pink and scarlet Phioxes, and many other harmonious associations will suggest themselves to the designer of August pictures.

The great mass of summer and autumn flowering plants belong to the natural order Compositae — that is, having a mass of tiny florets crowded together in the centre and surrounded by an involucre, as in the field daisy, and as these flowers are all very similar in form, in spite of variations in colour, the garden is apt to be less varied and interesting at this season unless we are careful not to let the composites predominate. Their flowers lack the charm and suggestion which we find in those of more irregular design, and many of the plants are weedy and gawky in habit, so that intelligent selection should be made from the long lists of Rudbeckias, Heleniums, Helianthuses, Pyrethrums, Asters, Boltonias, and Chrysanthemums offered us in the catalogues.

Of the Rudbeckias I think R. Newmani is perhaps the most useful. It grows about two feet tall and bears in great profusion throughout the summer and fall large daisy-like flowers, like Black-eyed Susans, with a dark cone in the centre. This plant suffers in dry weather and likes a retentive soil or shade for part of the day. R. laciniata, fl. pl., better known as Golden Glow, has long been banished from our garden enclosure, though the blossoms are pretty and good for cutting. The plant is long-legged, gawky, and weak-kneed, and it spreads rapidly without encouragement and frequently quite swallows up its neighbours. The purple Cone flower, Rudbeckia purpurea, or Echinacea purpurea as it is correctly called, is also a very good plant and much more tolerant of drought than Newmani. It grows about four feet tall and bears large blossoms of a curious dead pink, with a protruding golden-brown cone. This plant is rather hard to associate well and I feel that full justice is not given it here, though the fleecy bloom of Polygonum compactum and masses of blue-green Rue, which are its neighbours, are very good with it. It is rather a sombre-looking plant, but as desirable for its good habits and long period of bloom as for its numerous dull-pink flowers.

The Sunflowers, Helianthus, are conspicuous members of both annual and perennial garden society at this season, but there are only a few which seem to me to have any great attraction, save in half-wild places. Their roots are most unrestrained and one must ever be weeding them out. To one sort, however, I can give the most enthusiastic praise — Helianthus multiflorus ft. pl., which grows about five feet high, is compact and controlled as to growth, has rich, dark foliage and many golden globes of bloom. It makes a good background for the heavy-headed white Phlox, and before its season closes the earlier hardy Asters colour effectively in its neighbourhood. There is a variety called Soleil d’Or which is also a splendid plant, with the same firm, compact habit and rich orange-yellow, double flowers. I do not care much for the single-flowered Sunflowers, though Miss Mellish is a good sort. ‘However, she grows nine feet tall in our garden in her determination to see over the wall, and her surprising length is too scantily clothed for beauty. H. mollis is a pretty good Sunflower, of more moderate height, and bears large yellow flowers, which contrast pleasantly with the grayish foliage.

The Heleniums or Sneezeweeds are, as a class, better than the Sunflowers. Indeed some of them are very beautiful with their flowers of Indian-red, russet, and gold. I know of few late flowers more effective than H. Striatum var. autumnale rubrum, in its rich autumn colouring. Riverton Gem also has this rich colouring, and both are most effective in bold groups against a wall covered with Clematis panticulata and with masses of lavender and purple hardy Asters as neighbours. H. Riverton Beauty has rays of pure lemon-yellow with a purple-black disc. These all grow from four feet to five feet tall and form strong, bushy clumps of good upstanding habit, which require frequent division. There is a form called H. pumilum var. magnificum, which is much dwarfer, growing only about eighteen inches tall and bearing yellow flowers. H. Hoopesii starts to bloom late in June, but I think that in this month of rare and exquisite flowers we have no need of the coarser bloom of the Heleniums. The Heleniums associate well together and with most of the warm-toned flowers of the late summer and autumn, such as Marigolds, Snapdragons, Gladiolus brenchleyensis, Tritomas, hardy Asters, and others.

Pyrethrum uliginosum is one of the valuable composites of the later summer. It grows four to five feet tall and forms fine, erect clumps, bearing quantities of white daisy-like flowers over a period of several weeks. it is fine as a background for pink and lavender Phlox. A charming group here is made up of this Pyrethrum, Phlox Elizabeth Campbell and Clematis davidiana. Early bloomers among the hardy Asters, such as A. Amellus var. Beauté Parfait, elegans, or Perry’s Favourite, are also good in association with the Pyrethrum. It is unnecessary to devise associations for this good plant, for once in the garden a need for its sturdy growth, clean foliage, and dense masses of bloom makes itself felt in many quarters, and we are glad that it may be increased so generously by division.

The Boltonias are also tall plants, which bear small daisy-like flowers, some white and some pink. But, while its masses of bloom are effective, the plants grow rather too tall and leggy and are very difficult to stake. We put stout Dahlia stakes through the clumps, making a sort of web of cord from stake to stake, as when tied tightly to the stakes the effect is very stiff and ungraceful. There is a lower growing form called nana, which is a better plant for small gardens and narrow borders than the tall B. latisquama and asteroides. Groups of tan pink Phlox, gray-leaved Elymus glauca, and hazy Sea Lavender are good in front of the Boltonias, and they also lend themselves pleasantly to the companionship of the early hardy Asters and Sunflowers. The spreading proclivities of this plant are a drawback, but it is easily gotten rid of and I have come to the point when I can callously pull it out and throw it away.

A beautiful though rather coarse-growing composite of the late summer is Vernonia arkansana, tall and strong and gorgeously magenta as to its great flower heads. The everyday name of this plant is Ironweed, and a low-growing form is wild about here, creating

splendid glow over the damp, rocky meadows in August and September. In borders where there is room for it Polygonum compactum, with cream-coloured, fleecy flowers, is a good companion for the Ironweed, but the great Polygonum is such an indomitable spreader that it should be admitted with caution. Groups of Kansas Gay Feather (Liatris pychnostachya) are pretty rising from among bushes of Rue or Lavender Cotton. Their colour is certainly magenta, but these flowers are very graceful and effective, and if carefully companioned the colour is no drawback but very beautiful. The Gay Feathers like a dry soil and full sunshine; in rich, heavy soils they are short lived. The before-mentioned one is the better, but two others, L. spicata and scariosa, are similar and serve to prolong the blooming season. From a tuft of leaves these plants send up wand-like stems, about four feet in height, feathered with delicate foliage and terminating in a spike of bloom about ten inches long. It is one of those plants, like Lilies and Asphodels, which need the foliage of other plants to make up for its too scanty leaf age.

Pink and white Mallows are conspicuous in the late summer and autumn garden. They are easily raised from seed, and in deep, rich soil will grow into fine spreading clumps. The old sweet, white Day Lily (Funkia subcordata), with its beautiful, spreading, pale-green foliage and gleaming lily-like blooms, should be found shining in every August garden. It has long been a favourite, and is one of the few flowers of this season which is rich in association and tradition. It is not so much used nowadays, save F. Sieboldiana, which is valued for the metallic gleam of its great leaves, and one sees F. lancifolia, in its variety ablo-marginata, or variegata, frequently edging the borders in cottage gardens. I am very fond of the Corfu Lily (F. subcordata) and like to coddle it a bit, giving it the richest, dampest soil at my command. In the Iris Bed, about the little, ever-overflowing pool, it reaches a great state of happy luxuriance, sending up countless spikes of sweet white flowers, seeming to belong to a simpler age than ours. The broad, lasting foliage of this plant and Sieboldiana is of great value in the garden from the time of its rather late appearance in spring. In these days when we do not plant haphazard any plant which strikes our fancy in any spot which happens to be empty, but consider, not only the effect of its colour upon its neighbours, but the effect of its habit and form in the general arrangement, such well-rounded, orderly plants as the Funkias should be more used than they are.

An attractive August group is composed of Artemisia lactiflora and Salvia azurea var. grandiflora, growing in deep, rich soil. The former is a plant of comparatively recent introduction and is of real value. It bears heads of creamy blossoms and grows about four feet high. It is not so rampant a grower as most of its family, and I have lost several plants, I think, from winter killing. The Salvia is one of the prettiest ornaments of the late summer, but is so difficult to maintain in an upright position that I am often tempted to do without its heavenly colour. Its wand-like stems are so slender as to be entirely unable to uphold themselves, and when tied to a stake the plant loses all grace. Young plants seem to stand up a little better, and as the Salvia is a free seeder there are usually plenty of these.