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The Home Acre

E >> E. P. Roe >> The Home Acre



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THE HOME ACRE

E. P. ROE






CONTENTS

CHAPTER I TREE-PLANTING

CHAPTER II FRUIT-TREES AND GRASS

CHAPTER III THE GARDEN

CHAPTER IV THE VINEYARD AND ORCHARD

CHAPTER V THE RASPBERRY

CHAPTER VI THE CURRANT

CHAPTER VII STRAWBERRIES

CHAPTER VIII THE KITCHEN-GARDEN

CHAPTER IX THE KITCHEN-GARDEN (Concluded)




CHAPTER I

TREE-PLANTING


Land hunger is so general that it may be regarded as a natural
craving. Artificial modes of life, it is true, can destroy it, but
it is apt to reassert itself in later generations. To tens of
thousands of bread-winners in cities a country home is the dream
of the future, the crown and reward of their life-toil. Increasing
numbers are taking what would seem to be the wiser course, and are
combining rural pleasures and advantages with their business. As
the questions of rapid transit are solved, the welfare of children
will turn the scale more and more often against the conventional
city house or flat. A home CAN be created in rented dwellings and
apartments; but a home for which we have the deed, a cottage
surrounded by trees, flowers, lawn, and garden, is the refuge
which best satisfies the heart. By means of such a suburban nook
we can keep up our relations with Nature and all her varied and
health-giving life. The tired man returning from business finds
that his excited brain will not cease to act. He can enjoy
restoring rest in the complete diversion of his thoughts; he can
think of this tree or that plant, and how he can fill to advantage
unoccupied spaces with other trees, flowers, and vegetables. If
there is a Jersey cow to welcome him with her placid trust, a good
roadster to whinny for an airing, and a flock of chickens to
clamor about his feet for their supper, his jangling nerves will
be quieted, in spite of all the bulls and bears of Wall Street.
Best of all, he will see that his children have air and space in
which to grow naturally, healthfully. His fruit-trees will testify
to his wisdom in providing a country home. For instance, he will
observe that if sound plums are left in contact with stung and
decaying specimens, they too will be infected; he will see that
too close crowding renders the prospect for good fruit doubtful;
and, by natural transition of thought, will be glad that his boys
and girls are not shut in to the fortuitous associations of hall-
way and street. The area of land purchased will depend largely on
the desires and purse of the buyer; but about one acre appears to
satisfy the majority of people. This amount is not so great that
the business man is burdened with care, nor is its limit so small
that he is cramped and thwarted by line fences. If he can give to
his bit of Eden but little thought and money, he will find that an
acre can be so laid out as to entail comparatively small expense
in either the one or the other; if he has the time and taste to
make the land his play-ground as well as that of his children,
scope is afforded for an almost infinite variety of pleasing
labors and interesting experiments. When we come to co-work with
Nature, all we do has some of the characteristics of an
experiment. The labor of the year is a game of skill, into which
also enter the fascinating elements of apparent chance. What a
tree, a flower, or vegetable bed will give, depends chiefly upon
us; yet all the vicissitudes of dew, rain, frost, and sun, have
their part in the result. We play the game with Nature, and she
will usually let us win if we are not careless, ignorant, or
stupid. She keeps up our zest by never permitting the game to be
played twice under the same conditions. We can no more carry on
our garden this season precisely as we did last year than a
captain can sail his ship exactly as he did on the preceding
voyage. A country home makes even the weather interesting; and the
rise and fall of the mercury is watched with scarcely less
solicitude than the mutations of the market.

In this chapter and in those which may ensue I merely hope to make
some useful suggestions and give practical advice--the result of
experience, my own and others'--which the reader may carry out and
modify according to his judgment.

We will suppose that an acre has been bought; that it is
comparatively level, with nothing of especial value upon it--in
brief, that the home and its surroundings are still to be created.

It is not within my design to treat of the dwelling, its
architecture, etc., but we shall have something to say further on
in regard to its location. Before purchasing, the most careful
investigations should be made as to the healthfulness of the
region and the opportunities for thorough drainage. Having bought
the acre, the question of removing all undue accumulations of
water on or beneath the surface should be attended to at first.
The dry appearance of the soil during much of the year may be
misleading. It should be remembered that there are equinoctial
storms and melting snows. Superabundant moisture at every period
should have channels of immediate escape, for moisture in excess
is an injury to plant as well as to family life; while thoroughly
and quickly drained land endures drought far better than that
which is rendered heavy and sour by water stagnating beneath the
surface. Tile-drains are usually the cheapest and most effective;
but if there are stones and rocks upon the place, they can be
utilized and disposed of at the same time by their burial in
ditches--and they should be covered so deeply that a plow,
although sunk to the beam, can pass over them. Tiles or the top of
a stone drain should be at least two feet below the surface. If
the ground of the acre is underlaid with a porous subsoil, there
is usually an adequate natural drainage.

Making haste slowly is often the quickest way to desired results.
It is the usual method to erect the dwelling first, and afterward
to subdue and enrich the ground gradually. This in many instances
may prove the best course; but when it is practicable, I should
advise that building be deferred until the land (with the
exception of the spaces to be occupied with the house and barn)
can be covered with a heavy dressing of barnyard manure, and that
this be plowed under in the autumn. Such general enriching of the
soil may seem a waste in view of the carriage-drive and walks yet
to be laid out; but this will not prove true. It should be
remembered that while certain parts of the place are to be kept
bare of surface-vegetation, they nevertheless will form a portion
of the root-pasturage of the shade and fruit trees. The land,
also, can be more evenly and deeply plowed before obstructions are
placed upon it, and roots, pestiferous weeds, and stones removed
with greatest economy. Moreover, the good initial enriching is
capital, hoarded in the soil, to start with. On many new places I
have seen trees and plants beginning a feeble and uncertain life,
barely existing rather than growing, because their roots found the
soil like a table with dishes but without food. If the fertilizer
is plowed under in the autumn, again mixed with the soil by a
second plowing in the spring, it will be decomposed and ready for
immediate use by every rootlet in contact with it. Now, as farmers
say, the "land is in good heart," and it will cheer its owner's
heart to see the growth promptly made by whatever is properly
planted. Instead of losing time, he has gained years. Suppose the
acre to have been bought in September, and treated as I have
indicated, it is ready for a generous reception of plants and
trees the following spring.

Possibly at the time of purchase the acre may be covered with
coarse grass, weeds, or undergrowth of some kind. In this case,
after the initial plowing, the cultivation for a season of some
such crop as corn or potatoes may be of great advantage in
clearing the land, and the proceeds of the crop would partially
meet expenses. If the aim is merely to subdue and clean the land
as quickly as possible, nothing is better than buckwheat, sown
thickly and plowed under just as it comes into blossom. It is the
nature of this rampart-growing grain to kill out everything else
and leave the soil light and mellow. If the ground is encumbered
with many stones and rocks, the question of clearing it is more
complicated. They can be used, and often sold to advantage, for
building purposes. In some instances I have seen laboring-men
clear the most unpromising plots of ground by burying all rocks
and stones deeply beneath the surface--men, too, who had no other
time for the task except the brief hours before and after their
daily toil.

I shall give no distinct plan for laying out the ground. The taste
of the owner, or more probably that of his wife, will now come
into play. Their ideas also will be modified by many local
circumstances--as, for instance, the undulations of the land, if
there are any; proximity to neighbors, etc. If little besides
shade and lawn is desired, this fact will have a controlling
influence; if, on the other hand, the proprietor wishes to make
his acre as productive as possible, the house will be built nearer
the street, wider open space will be left for the garden, and
fruit-trees will predominate over those grown merely for shade and
beauty. There are few who would care to follow a plan which many
others had adopted. Indeed, it would be the natural wish of
persons of taste to impart something of their own individuality to
their rural home; and the effort to do this would afford much
agreeable occupation. Plates giving the elevation and arrangement
of country homes can be studied by the evening lamp; visits to
places noted for their beauty, simplicity, and good taste will
afford motives for many a breezy drive; while useful suggestions
from what had been accomplished by others may repay for an
extended journey. Such observations and study will cost little
more than an agreeable expenditure of time; and surely a home is
worth careful thought. It then truly becomes YOUR home--something
that you have evolved with loving effort. Dear thoughts of wife
and children enter into its very materiality; walks are planned
with a loving consciousness of the feet which are to tread them,
and trees planted with prophetic vision of the groups that will
gather beneath the shade. This could scarcely be true if the acre
were turned over to architect, builders, and landscape-gardeners,
with an agreement that you should have possession at a specified
time.

We will suppose that it is early spring, that the ground has
received its second plowing, and that the carriage-drive and the
main walks have been marked out on paper, or, better still, on a
carefully considered map. There is now so much to do that one is
almost bewildered; and the old saying, "Rome was not built in a
day," is a good thing to remember. An orderly succession of labor
will bring beauty and comfort in good time, especially if
essential or foundation labors are first well performed. Few
things will prove more satisfactory than dry, hard, smooth
carriage-roads and walks. These, with their curves, can be
carefully staked out, the surface-earth between the stakes to the
depth of four or five inches carted to the rear of the place near
the stable, or the place where the stable is to be. Of the value
of this surface-soil we shall speak presently, and will merely
remark in passing that it is amply worth the trouble of saving.
Its removal leaves the beds of the driveway and walks depressed
several inches below the surrounding surface. Fill these shallow
excavations with little stones, the larger in the bottom, the
smaller on top, and cover all with gravel. You now have roads and
walks that will be dry and hard even in oozy March, and you can
stroll about your place the moment the heaviest shower is over.
The greater first cost will be more than made good by the fact
that scarcely a weed can start or grow on pathways thus treated.
All they will need is an occasional rounding up and smoothing with
a rake.

While this labor is going on you can begin the planting of trees.
To this task I would earnestly ask careful attention. Your house
can be built in a summer; but it requires a good part of a century
to build the best trees into anything like perfection.

The usual tendency is to plant much too closely. Observe well-
developed trees, and see how wide a space they require. There is
naturally an eager wish for shade as soon as possible, and a
desire to banish from surroundings an aspect of bareness. These
purposes can, it is true, often be accomplished by setting out
more trees at first than could mature, and by taking out one and
another from time to time when they begin to interfere with each
other's growth. One symmetrical, noble tree, however, is certainly
worth more than a dozen distorted, misshapen specimens. If given
space, every kind of tree and shrub will develop its own
individuality; and herein lies one of their greatest charms. If
the oak typifies manhood, the drooping elm is equally suggestive
of feminine grace, while the sugar-maple, prodigal of its rich
juices, tasselled bloom, and winged seeds, reminds us of
wholesome, cheerful natures. Even when dying, its foliage takes on
the earliest and richest hues of autumn.

The trees about our door become in a sense our companions. They
appeal to the eye, fancy, and feelings of different people
differently. Therefore I shall leave the choice of arboreal
associates to those who are to plant them--a choice best guided by
observation of trees. Why should you not plant those you like the
best, those which are the most congenial?

A few suggestions, however, may be useful. I would advise the
reader not to be in too great haste to fill up his grounds. While
there are trees to which his choice reverts almost instantly,
there are probably many other beautiful varieties with which he is
not acquainted. If he has kept space for the planting of something
new every spring and fall, he has done much to preserve his zest
in his rural surroundings, and to give a pleasing direction to his
summer observation. He is ever on the alert to discover trees and
shrubs that satisfy his taste.

During the preparation of this book I visited the grounds of Mr.
A. S. Fuller, at Kidgewood, N. J., and for an hour or two I broke
the tenth commandment in spite of myself. I was surrounded by
trees from almost every portion of the northern temperate zone,
from Oregon to Japan; and in Mr. Fuller I had a guide whose
sympathy with his arboreal pets was only equalled by his knowledge
of their characteristics. All who love trees should possess his
book entitled "Practical Forestry." If it could only be put into
the hands of law-makers, and they compelled to learn much of its
contents by heart, they would cease to be more or less conscious
traitors to their country in allowing the destruction of forests.
They might avert the verdict of the future, and prevent posterity
from denouncing the irreparable wrong which is now permitted with
impunity. The Arnolds of to-day are those who have the power to
save the trees, yet fail to do so.

Japan appears to be doing as much to adorn our lawns and gardens
as our drawing-rooms; and from this and other foreign lands much
that is beautiful or curious is coming annually to our shores. At
the same time I was convinced of the wisdom of Mr. Fuller's
appreciation of our native trees. In few instances should we have
to go far from home to find nearly all that we wanted in beautiful
variety--maples, dogwoods, scarlet and chestnut oaks, the liquid-
amber, the whitewood or tulip-tree, white birch, and horn-beam, or
the hop-tree; not to speak of the evergreens and shrubs indigenous
to our forests. Perhaps it is not generally known that the
persimmon, so well remembered by old campaigners in Virginia, will
grow readily in this latitude. There are forests of this tree
around Paterson, N. J., and it has been known to endure twenty-
seven degrees below zero. It is a handsome tree at any season, and
its fruit in November caused much straggling from our line of
march in the South. Then there is our clean-boled, graceful beech,
whose smooth white bark has received so many tender confidences.
In the neighborhood of a village you will rarely find one of these
trees whereon is not linked the names of lovers that have sat
beneath the shade. Indeed I have found mementoes of trysts or
rambles deep in the forest of which the faithful beech has kept
the record until the lovers were old or dead. On an immense old
beech in Tennessee there is an inscription which, while it
suggests a hug, presents to the fancy an experience remote from a
lover's embrace. It reads, "D. Boone cilled bar on tree."

There is one objection to the beech which also lies against the
white oak--it does not drop its leaves within the space of a few
autumn days. The bleached foliage is falling all winter long, thus
giving the ground near an untidy aspect. With some, the question
of absolute neatness is paramount; with others, leaves are clean
dirt, and their rustle in the wind does not cease to be music even
after they have fallen.

Speaking of native trees and shrubs, we shall do well to use our
eyes carefully during our summer walks and drives; for if we do,
we can scarcely fail to fall in love with types and varieties
growing wild. They will thrive just as well on the acre if
properly removed. In a sense they bring the forest with them, and
open vistas at our door deep into the heart of Nature. The tree is
not only a thing of beauty in itself, but it represents to the
fancy all its wild haunts the world over.

In gratifying our taste for native trees we need not confine
ourselves to those indigenous to our own locality. From the
nurseries we can obtain specimens that beautify other regions of
our broad land; as, for instance, the Kentucky yellow-wood, the
papaw, the Judas-tree, and, in the latitude of New Jersey and
southward, the holly.

In many instances the purchaser of the acre may find a lasting
pleasure in developing a specialty. He may desire to gather about
him all the drooping or weeping trees that will grow in his
latitude, or he may choose to turn his acre largely into a nut-
orchard, and delight his children with a harvest which they will
gather with all the zest of the frisky red squirrel. If one could
succeed in obtaining a bearing tree of Hale's paper-shell hickory-
nut, he would have a prize indeed. Increasing attention is given
to the growing of nut-trees in our large nurseries, and there
would be no difficulty in obtaining a supply.

In passing from this subject of choice in deciduous trees and
shrubs, I would suggest, in addition to visits to woods and copse,
to the well-ornamented places of men who have long gratified a
fine taste in this respect, that the reader also make time to see
occasionally a nursery like that of S.B. Parsons & Co., at
Flushing, N.Y. There is no teaching like that of the eyes; and the
amateur who would do a bit of landscape-gardening about his own
home learns what he would like and what he can do by seeing shrubs
and trees in their various stages of growth and beauty.

I shall treat the subject of evergreens at the close of this
chapter.

As a rule, I have not much sympathy with the effort to set out
large trees in the hope of obtaining shade more quickly. The trees
have to be trimmed up and cut back so greatly that their symmetry
is often destroyed. They are also apt to be checked in their
growth so seriously by such removal that a slender sapling,
planted at the same time, overtakes and passes them. I prefer a
young tree, straight-stemmed, healthy, and typical of its species
or variety. Then we may watch its rapid natural development as we
would that of a child. Still, when large trees can be removed in
winter with a great ball of frozen earth that insures the
preservation of the fibrous roots, much time can be saved. It
should ever be remembered that prompt, rapid growth of the
transplanted tree depends on two things--plenty of small fibrous
roots, and a fertile soil to receive them. It usually happens that
the purchaser employs a local citizen to aid in putting his ground
in order. In every rural neighborhood there are smart men--"smart"
is the proper adjective; for they are neither sagacious nor
trustworthy, and there is ever a dismal hiatus between their
promises and performance. Such men lie in wait for newcomers, to
take advantage of their inexperience and necessary absence. They
will assure their confiding employers that they are beyond
learning anything new in the planting of trees--which is true, in
a sinister sense. They will leave roots exposed to sun and wind--
in brief, pay no more attention to them than a baby-farmer would
bestow on an infant's appetite; and then, when convenient, thrust
them into a hole scarcely large enough for a post. They expect to
receive their money long before the dishonest character of their
work can be discovered. The number of trees which this class of
men have dwarfed or killed outright would make a forest. The
result of a well-meaning yet ignorant man's work might be equally
unsatisfactory. Therefore, the purchaser of the acre should know
how a tree should be planted, and see to it himself; or he should
by careful inquiry select a man for the task who could bring
testimonials from those to whom he had rendered like services in
the past.

The hole destined to receive a shade or fruit tree should be at
least three feet in diameter and two feet deep. It then should be
partially filled with good surface soil, upon which the tree
should stand, so that its roots could extend naturally according
to their original growth. Good fine loam should be sifted through
and over them, and they should not be permitted to come in contact
with decaying matter or coarse, unfermented manure. The tree
should be set as deeply in the soil as it stood when first taken
up. As the earth is thrown gently through and over the roots it
should be packed lightly against them with the foot, and water,
should the season be rather dry and warm, poured in from time to
time to settle the fine soil about them. The surface should be
levelled at last with a slight dip toward the tree, so that spring
and summer rains may be retained directly about the roots. Then a
mulch of coarse manure is helpful, for it keeps the surface moist,
and its richness will reach the roots gradually in a diluted form.
A mulch of straw, leaves, or coarse hay is better than none at
all. After being planted, three stout stakes should be inserted
firmly in the earth at the three points of a triangle, the tree
being its centre. Then by a rope of straw or some soft material
the tree should be braced firmly between the protecting stakes,
and thus it is kept from being whipped around by the wind. Should
periods of drought ensue during the growing season, it would be
well to rake the mulch one side, and saturate the ground around
the young tree with an abundance of water, and the mulch afterward
spread as before. Such watering is often essential, and it should
be thorough. Unskilled persons usually do more harm than good by
their half-way measures in this respect.

Speaking of trees, it may so happen that the acre is already in
forest. Then, indeed, there should be careful discrimination in
the use of the axe. It may be said that a fine tree is in the way
of the dwelling. Perhaps the proposed dwelling is in the way of
the tree. In England the work of "groving," or thinning out trees,
is carried to the perfection of a fine art. One shudders at the
havoc which might be made by a stolid laborer. Indeed, to nearly
all who could be employed in preparing a wooded acre for
habitation, a tree would be looked upon as little more than so
much cord-wood or lumber.

If I had a wooded acre I should study the trees most carefully
before coming to any decision as to the situation of the dwelling
and out-buildings. Having removed those obviously unworthy to
remain, I should put in the axe very thoughtfully among the finer
specimens, remembering that I should be under the soil before
Nature could build others like them.

In the fitting up of this planet as the home of mankind it would
appear that the Creator regarded the coniferae, or evergreen
family, as well worthy of attention; for almost from the first,
according to geologists, this family records on the rocky tablets
of the earth its appearance, large and varied development, and its
adaptation to each change in climate and condition of the globe's
surface during the countless ages of preparation. Surely,
therefore, he who is evolving a home on one acre of the earth's
area cannot neglect a genus of trees that has been so signally
honored. Evergreens will speedily banish the sense of newness from
his grounds; for by putting them about his door he has added the
link which connects his acre with the earliest geological record
of tree-planting. Then, like Diedrich Knickerbocker, who felt that
he must trace the province of New York back to the origin of the
universe, he can look upon his coniferae and feel that his latest
work is in accord with one of the earliest laws of creation. I
imagine, however, that my readers' choice of evergreens will be
determined chiefly by the fact that they are always beautiful, are
easily managed, and that by means of them beautiful effects can be
created within comparatively small space. On Mr. Fuller's grounds I
saw what might be fittingly termed a small parterre of dwarf
evergreens, some of which were twenty-five years old.

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