I care for are the quite old…fashioned roses； sunflowers； hollyhocks； lilies and so on； and these I like to see growing as much as possible as if they were wild。 Trim and symmetrical beds are my abhorrence； and most of the flowers which are put into them……hybrids e……Jonesia； Snooksia……hurt my eyes。 On the other hand； a garden is a garden； and I would not try to introduce into it the flowers which are my solace in lanes and fields。 Foxgloves； for instance……it would pain me to see them thus transplanted。
I think of foxgloves； for it is the moment of their glory。 Yesterday I went to the lane which I visit every year at this time； the deep； rutty cart…track； descending between banks covered with giant fronds of the polypodium； and overhung with wych…elm and hazel； to that cool； grassy nook where the noble flowers hang on stems all but of my own height。 Nowhere have I seen finer foxgloves。 I suppose they rejoice me so because of early memories…… to a child it is the most impressive of wild flowers； I would walk miles any day to see a fine cluster； as I would to see the shining of purple loosestrife by the water edge； or white lilies floating upon the still depth。
But the gardener and I understand each other as soon as we go to the back of the house； and get among the vegetables。 On that ground he finds me perfectly sane。 And indeed I am not sure that the kitchen garden does not give me more pleasure than the domain of flowers。 Every morning I step round before breakfast to see how things are 〃ing on。〃 It is happiness to note the swelling of pods； the healthy vigour of potato plants； aye； even the shooting up of radishes and cress。 This year I have a grove of Jerusalem artichokes； they are seven or eight feet high； and I seem to get vigour as I look at the stems