Henry Arthur Bright’s Lancashire Garden:October 24, 1874

October 24, 1874

For today's Botanic Spark, I'd like to share a diary entry from exactly 150 years ago.

Henry Arthur Bright [BRAYT] was penning his thoughts in "A Year in a Lancashire [LANK-ah-sheer] Garden," capturing the essence of a Victorian autumn day.

Like our earlier friends Marianne North and Cora Older, he too understood the profound connection between gardening and writing.

As we listen to his words, notice how some gardening challenges - like losing beloved trees to storms and preparing for winter - remain unchanged across the centuries...

October 24.

Since I wrote we have had a great gale, which has swept over us, and torn down an Elm in the wood and a fine Chestnut in the croft.

I could ill spare either of them, and it is but poor comfort to think that our piled-up logs will outlast the winter.

It was the "wild west wind," of which Shelley sings, which has done the mischief; and smaller branches, lying scattered all over the lawn and walks, show us where it passed.

We are now preparing our Mushroom bed, for we shall need it as the green vegetables fail us.

I have said but little about the kitchen garden, for I do not suppose it differs much from that of other people. Our Peas have, however, served us particularly well, and we had our last dish on October 1--later than I ever before have known them here.

One excellent vegetable I have generally grown, and I would thoroughly recommend it to any one who has space to spare: it is the French White Haricot. It is not often seen with us though it is so very common in France. It is a species of French Bean, of which you eat the white bean itself instead of slicing up the pod. I suspect that, taking England through, there are very few gardens where the White Haricot is found.

We are now busy with our planting. Some Rhododendrons and Aucubas in the borders near the front gate have been pining away--starved by the Elm-tree roots around them.

We are trenching up the ground, cutting away what smaller roots we can, and putting in manure and some new shrubs.

We are planting a row of Hollies to screen a wall towards the lane.

We are moving a Salisburia adiantifolia, with its strange foliage like a gigantic Maidenhair Fern, from a corner into a more prominent place.

We shall then set to work to re-arrange the rockery. This, I think, I have never mentioned. In the middle of the little wood was once a pond, but I found the stagnant water and the soaking leaves, which fell and rotted there, no advantage to the place; I therefore drained away the water and planted beds of Azaleas and Rhododendrons along the slopes, with Primroses, Violets, and Blue Bells, and in the middle of all I have lately placed a tuft of Pampas-grass.

On one slope I have managed a rockery with a stone tank in the centre, where for three summers past has flowered an Aponogeton distachyon.

I have means of turning on fresh water into the tank, and I am well repaid for any trouble, as the little white boat-blossoms, laden with delicious spicy scent, rise up to the surface of their tiny lake.

The rockery is, however, too much under the shade and drip of trees, and I cannot hope that delicate alpine flowers should grow there.

Sedums and Saxifragas, Aquilegias, Aubrietias, the white Arabis, and the yellow Moneywort, besides Ferns of various kinds, all do well.

In another part of the wood is a loggery, which I have entirely covered with the large white Bindweed, which rambles about at its own will, and opens its blossoms, sometimes a dozen at a time, all through the summer months.

Past that, there is a little patch of Bluebells, then more beds of Rhododendrons, and then a short walk, which takes us by a private path to the village church, and then by another branch returns again towards the house. In this part of the grounds there is still room for planting, and I shall probably try some Tree Rhododendrons.

A standard Honeysuckle, which I have endeavoured to grow, has done no good as yet; its shoots get nipped by the north-east winds,but I do not yet despair.

The most useful undergrowth I find is the Elder; it thrives wonderfully, and is covered with blossom and with berry. One variety, the Parsley-leaved Elder, is here equally hardy with the common Elder, and much more graceful in its growth.

We have now to take in our tender and half-hardy plants, for fear of a sudden frost.

The large Myrtles, which have stood out in their boxes, must be placed in safety, and the Lobelia cardinalis and other bedding-plants, which we may need next year, must be removed.