Mary at the Farm | Page 8

education to develop their efficiency.
While much that we eat and wear comes out of the ground, we should
have more farmers, the only way to lower the present high cost of
living, which is such a perplexing problem to the housewife. There is
almost no limit to what might be accomplished by some of our bright
boys should they make agriculture a study. Luther Burbank says, 'To
add but one kernel of corn to each ear grown in this country in a single
year would increase the supply five million bushels.'"
CHAPTER V.
THE OLD FARM HOUSE AND GARDEN.
The old unpainted farm house, built of logs a century ago, had changed
in the passing years to a grayish tint. An addition had been built to the
house several years before Aunt Sarah's occupancy, The sober hue of
the house harmonized with the great, gnarled old trunk of the meadow
willow near-by. Planted when the house was built, it spread its great
branches protectingly over it. A wild clematis growing at the foot of the
tree twined its tendrils around the massive trunk until in late summer
they had become an inseparable part of it, almost covering it with
feathery blossoms.
[Illustration: Old Corn Crib]
[Illustration: The New Barn]

Near by stood an antique arbor, covered with thickly-clustering vines,
in season bending with the weight of "wild-scented" grapes, their
fragrance mingling with the odor of "Creek Mint" growing near by a
small streamlet and filling the air with a delicious fragrance. The mint
had been used in earlier years by Aunt Sarah's grandfather as a
beverage which he preferred to any other.
From a vine clambering up the grape arbor trellies, in the fall of the
year, hung numerous orange-colored balsam apples, which opened,
when ripe, disclosing bright crimson interior and seeds. These apples,
Aunt Sarah claimed, if placed in alcohol and applied externally,
possessed great medicinal value as a specific for rheumatism.
[Illustration: THE OLD FARM HOUSE]
A short distance from the house stood the newly-built red barn, facing
the pasture lot. On every side stretched fields which, in summer, waved
with wheat, oats, rye and buckwheat, and the corn crib stood close by,
ready for the harvest to fill it to overflowing. Beside the farm house
door stood a tall, white oleander, planted in a large, green-painted
wooden tub. Near by, in a glazed earthenware pot, grew the
old-fashioned lantana plant, covered with clusters of tiny blossoms, of
various shades of orange, red and pink.
In flower beds outlined by clam shells which had been freshly
whitewashed blossomed fuchsias, bleeding hearts, verbenas, dusty
millers, sweet clove-scented pinks, old-fashioned, dignified, purple
digitalis or foxglove, stately pink Princess Feather, various
brilliant-hued zinnias, or more commonly called "Youth and Old Age,"
and as gayly colored, if more humble and lowly, portulacas; the
fragrant white, star-like blossoms of the nicotiana, or "Flowering
Tobacco," which, like the yellow primrose, are particularly fragrant at
sunset. Geraniums of every hue, silver-leaved and rose-scented; yellow
marigolds and those with brown, velvety petals; near by the pale green
and white-mottled leaves of the plant called "Snow on the Mountain"
and in the centre of one of the large, round flower beds, grew sturdy
"Castor Oil Beans," their large, copper-bronze leaves almost covering
the tiny blue forget-me-nots growing beneath. Near the flower bed

grew a thrifty bush of pink-flowering almonds; not far distant grew a
spreading "shrub" bush, covered with fragrant brown buds, and beside
it a small tree of pearly-white snowdrops.
Sarah Landis loved the wholesome, earthy odors of growing plants and
delighted in her flowers, particularly the perennials, which were planted
promiscuously all over the yard. I have frequently heard her quote:
"One is nearer God's heart in a garden than any place else on earth."
And she would say, "I love the out-of-door life, in touch with the earth;
the natural life of man or woman." Inside the fence of the kitchen
garden were planted straight rows of both red and yellow currants, and
several gooseberry bushes. In one corner of the garden, near the
summer kitchen, stood a large bush of black currants, from the yellow,
sweet-scented blossoms of which Aunt Sarah's bees, those "Heaven
instructed mathematicians," sucked honey. Think of Aunt Sarah's
buckwheat cakes, eaten with honey made from currant, clover,
buckwheat and dandelion blossoms!
Her garden was second to none in Bucks County. She planted tomato
seeds in boxes and placed them in a sunny window, raising her plants
early; hence she had ripe tomatoes before any one else in the
neighborhood. Her peas were earlier also, and her beets and potatoes
were the largest; her corn the sweetest; and, as her asparagus bed was
always well salted, her asparagus was the finest to be had.
Through the centre of the garden patch,