The greatest defect with our flower-growing is the stinginess of it. We grow our flowers as if they were the choicest rarities, to be coddled in a hotbed or under a bell-jar, and then to be exhibited as single specimens in some little pinched and ridiculous hole cut in the turf, or perched upon an ant-hill that some gardener has laboriously heaped oh a lawn. Nature, on the other hand, grows many of her flowers in the most luxurious abandon, and one can pick an armful without offense. She grows her flowers in earnest, as a man grows a crop of corn. One can revel in the color and the fragrance and be satisfied.
The next defect with our flower-growing is the flower-bed. Nature has no time to make flower-bed designs: she is busy growing flowers. And, then, if she were given to flower-beds, the whole effect would be lost, for she could no longer be luxurious and wanton, and if a flower were picked her whole scheme might be upset. Imagine a geranium-bed or a coleus-bed, with its wonderful "design," set out into a wood or in a free and open landscape! Even the birds would laugh at it!
What I want to say is that we should grow flowers freely when we make a flower-garden. We should have enough of them to make the effort worth the while. I sympathize with the man who likes sunflowers. There are enough of them to be worth looking at. They fill the eye. Now show this man ten feet square of pinks or asters, or daisies, all growing free and easy and he will tell you that he likes them. All this has a particular application to the farmer, who is often said to dislike flowers. He grows potatoes and buckwheat and weeds by the acre: two or three unhappy pinks or geraniums are not enough to make an impression.