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137
The Solitary Summer
·
Elizabeth Von Arnim
104
August
10th.--My
idea
of
a
garden
is
that
it
should
be
beautiful
from
end
to
end,
and
not
start
off
in
front
of
the
house
with
fireworks,
going
off
at
its
farthest
limit
into
sheer
sticks.
The
standard
reached
beneath
the
windows
should
at
least
be
kept
up,
if
it
cannot
be
surpassed,
right
away
through,
and
the
German
popular
plan
in
this
matter
quite
discarded
of
concentrating
all
the
available
splendour
of
the
establishment
into
the
supreme
effort
of
carpet-bedding
and
glass
balls
on
pedestals
in
front
of
the
house,
in
the
hope
that
the
stranger,
carefully
kept
in
that
part,
and
on
no
account
allowed
to
wander,
will
infer
an
equal
magnificence
throughout
the
entire
domain;
whereas
he
knows
very
well
all
the
time
that
the
landscape
round
the
corner
consists
of
fowls
and
dust-bins.
Disliking
this
method,
I
have
tried
to
make
my
garden
increase
in
loveliness,
if
not
in
tidiness,
the
farther
you
get
into
it;
and
the
visitor
who
thinks
in
his
innocence
as
he
emerges
from
the
shade
of
the
verandah
that
he
sees
the
best
before
him,
is
artfully
conducted
from
beauty
to
beauty
till
he
beholds
what
I
think
is
the
most
charming
bit,
the
silver
birch
and
azalea
plantation
down
at
the
very
end.
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