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The planting is part of the design or picture.

If the reader catches the full meaning of these pages, he has acquired some of the primary conceptions in landscape gardening. The suggestion will grow upon him day by day; and if he is of an observing turn of mind, he will find that this simple lesson will revolutionize his habit of thought respecting the planting of grounds and the beauty of landscapes. He will see that a bush or flower-bed that is no part of any general purpose or design--that is, which does not contribute to the making of a picture--might better never have been planted. For myself, I would rather have a bare and open pasture than such a yard as that shown in Fig. 9, even though it contained the choicest plants of every land. The pasture would at least be plain and restful and unpretentious; but the yard would be full of effort and fidget.

Reduced to a single expression, all this means that the greatest artistic value in planting lies in the effect of the mass, and not in the individual plant. A mass has the greater value because it presents a much greater range and variety of forms, colors, shades, and textures, because it has sufficient extent or dimensions to add structural character to a place, and because its features are so continuous and so well blended that the mind is not distracted by incidental and irrelevant ideas. Two pictures will illustrate all this. Figures 10, 11 are pictures of natural copses. The former stretches along a field and makes a lawn of a bit of meadow which lies in front of it. The landscape has become so small and so well defined by this bank of verdure that it has a familiar and personal feeling. The great, bare, open meadows are too ill-defined and too extended to give any domestic feeling; but here is a part of the meadow set off into an area that one can compass with his affections.

These masses in Figs. 10, 11, and 12 have their own intrinsic merits, as well as their office in defining a bit of nature. One is attracted by the freedom of arrangement, the irregularity of sky-line, the bold bays and promontories, and the infinite play of light and shade. The observer is interested in each because it has character, or features, that no other mass in all the world possesses. He knows that the birds build their nests in the tangle and the rabbits find it a covert.

Now let the reader turn to Fig. 9, which is a picture of an "improved" city yard. Here there is no structural outline to the planting, no defining of the area, no continuous flow of the form and color. Every bush is what every other one is or may be, and there are hundreds like them in the same town. The birds shun them. Only the bugs find any happiness in them. The place has no fundamental design or idea, no lawn upon which a picture may be constructed. This yard is like a sentence or a conversation in which every word is equally emphasized.

In bold contrast with this yard is the open-center treatment in Fig. 13. Here there is pictorial effect; and there is opportunity along the borders to distribute trees and shrubs that may be desired as individual specimens.

The motive that shears the trees also razes the copse, in order that the gardener or "improver" may show his art. Compare Figs. 14 and 15. Many persons seem to fear that they will never be known to the world unless they expend a great amount of muscle or do something emphatic or spectacular; and their fears are usually well founded.

It is not enough that trees and bushes be planted in masses. They must be kept in masses by letting them grow freely in a natural way. The pruning-knife is the most inveterate enemy of shrubbery. Pictures 16 and 17 illustrate what I mean. The former represents a good group of bushes so far as arrangement is concerned; but it has been ruined by the shears. The attention of the observer is instantly arrested by the individual bushes. Instead of one free and expressive object, there are several stiff and expressionless ones. If the observer stops to consider his own thoughts when he comes upon such a collection, he will likely find himself counting the bushes; or, at least, he will be making mental comparisons of the various bushes, and wondering why they are not all sheared to be exactly alike. Figure 17 shows how the same "artist" has treated two deutzias and a juniper. Much the same effect could have been secured, and with much less trouble, by laying two flour barrels end to end and standing a third one between them.

I must hasten to say that I have not the slightest objection to the shearing of trees. The only trouble is in calling the practice art and in putting the trees where people must see them (unless they are part of a recognized formal-garden design). If the operator simply calls the business shearing, and puts the things where he and others who like them may see them, objection could not be raised. Some persons like painted stones, others iron bulldogs in the front yard and the word "welcome" worked into the door-mat, and others like barbered trees. So long as these likes are purely personal, it would seem to be better taste to put such curiosities in the back yard, where the owner may admire them without molestation

There is a persistent desire among workmen to shear and to trim: it displays their industry. It is a great thing to be able to allow the freedom of nature to remain. The artist often builds his structures into a native planting (as in Fig. 18) rather than to trust himself to produce a good result by planting on razed surfaces.

In this discussion, I have tried to enforce the importance of the open center in non-formal home grounds in greensward regions. Of course this does not mean that there may not be central planting in particular cases where the conditions distinctly call for it nor that there may not be trees on the lawn. If one has the placing of the trees, he may see that they are not scattered aimlessly; but if good trees are already growing on the place, it would be folly to think of removing them merely because they are not in the best ideal positions; in such case, it may be very necessary to adapt the treatment of the area to the trees. The home-maker should always consider, also, the planting of a few trees in such places as to shade and protect the residence: the more closely they can be made a part of the general design or handling of the place, the better the results will be.

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