Pennsylvania School of Horticulture for Women - Wise Acres Yearbook (Ambler, PA)

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be as attractive as it is useful. Docs thee get the “idear” (that’s Bostonese). Doesn’t it quicken thy pulses, and doesn’t thee wish thee were in touch with the School of Horticulture? Just come to see us some time along in May or June and we will show thee what scientific methods will bring from old Mother Earth. If the orders are not too rushing we may give thee a golden brown morsel of broiler, but as we are expecting to corner the top-price market, it plight happen they would all have gone into the money box. In any event we will let thee listen to our aspiring young cocks practicing their pew-found crows. And I warn thee that middy blouses and sturdy shoes will be a necessary part of thy equipment, for there isn’t a ghost of a chance of thy escaping some contact with Soils once thee falls under the influence of this energetic atmosphere. And now doesn’t thee think that after all this I can sincerely sign myself Farmer Jane. tEo n Jlxolet Blue violet, that lives in spring so gay, Amid the bluebell, primrose, bluet, too, Who never could compare at all with you, But try from you to take our love away,— Sweet flower, who all will well and truly say Art prettier far than fairest roses hue, Reveal, I pray, from what you get your blue, Your graceful form, your pretty stem. In May You disappear, your blue eyes gone, to me The woods are dead, the flowers all decayed, And naught remains but bright and gaudy flow’rs. I wish that all the year I could you see In velvet clad, and that you could evade Old Nature’s law, and be forever ours! Lola Poppletoi? 9

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minds as yet, and that is to have a hive of bees. We want it awfully, and it would be just the thing here amongst our locust trees. J never knew before how interesting those little creatures could be. To me, they have always been just bees, but now I am hearing of traits that make them seem almost human. Personally I am plain afraid of them, but “my student says we have to get over that. Thee will be surprised when she gets through with me, for she is shaking me out of so many ruts. Nevertheless the bees will have to be her care for another reason—they say it takes a person of good disposition—the point is left beyond discussion. Then the ardent dream of a hot bed is to be realized. My! the things that will be accomplished on the old farm this spring. With all this School of Horticulture knowledge expended upon it, we may expect to see results that are dynamic! We have chosen a protected, southeastern exposure, have ascertained where hot-bed -sash may be procured, gained permission for the necessary amount of heating material—nothing left to be done but dig! All contributions thankfully received. Soon we shall be ready for early trade in lettuce and tomatoes and all sorts of interesting things. And then comes our garden. A bit of farm land is to be all our own, to do with exactly as we please—in other words, to plant in common soil this great knowledge of Mr. Doan, der fleissiger Fritz, and the learned city professors, and see if it will pan out for ordinary mortals. The seed catalogues are already worn limp, and there is a drawing board with a plan pinned fast to it stuck under the bureau for ready reference. It is to be hoped thee is not getting tired yet, for I am only well started. If thee could see these girls pouring over school-garden plans, laying out miraculously arranged flower beds and vegetable plots, thee would find thyself silently scheming likewise, and making little private drawings on scraps of paper just to see what thee could do. It is only when they begin to use those dreadful, unpronounceable names with the utmost freedom, and to reel off chemical equations and formulas with the glibness born of familiarity, that I feel like tearing my hair and striking for tall timber. But to return to our garden—it is to be the most beautifully behaved thee ever saw. In the first place, the Captain of this corporation says that we are to j pend every available minute out on our plot with a wheelbarrow gathering up the stones. She says the soil must be well pulverized, and as she is quite a determined lady, I have visions of being sent out with a hand sieve every time I am caught with a magazine under my arm, or show any propensity towards idleness. I wish I could give thee the whole outline now, but it is not quite complete. Suffice it to say, there will be well regulated lines throughout. The systematic paths will be no wider than absolutely necessary. The sections will hold carefully arranged rotations of vegetables, those most practical for our own table use and for the selling of the surplus. Each section will be flower bordered—wait, I’ll ask the Lady Captain what those flowers are to be. No use—deep in preparation for some everlasting test—and I have learned by sad experience that it means complete banishment if one talks when lessons are in progress. Never mind, it is calendulas or something like that. Anyhow the whole outlay is to 8

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Jioiliebs piitljoui glides This spring a year ago I gave one of our visitors information about a hotbed and what can be raised in it. Recently I met the same person again and naturally we began to talk about the growing of plants, and as it was a rather mild day, I mentioned that the time for making a hotbed would soon be here. “Not for me,” replied the lady, “no hot-bed for me again.” When I asked why not, I received the following answer: “The moles killed all my seeds and plants last year.” I laughed for a second and then replied that this could not be true. As the time was short I could not explain, but begged her to build another hotbed this year and I promised her to keep the moles out. I am sorry not to have her address, but I am sure she is a reader of our “Wise-Acres,” and as I would like to see a little hotbed in every city back-yard, I will give a few of my own experiences in this line: My dear reader, when I first started to build a hotbed I had the same trouble that you had, namely; every morning when I looked at the bed I found that the mole had been working in it and many of my seedlings were thrown out; next I looked at the roots of my seedlings and found some were broken off, and this made me believe that moles eat roots. Immediately I purchased a mole trap and set it in the frame. The next morning I went to the hotbed to take the mole out of the trap. How disappointed I was not to find the mole securely caught. It had been working all over the bed again and very, very close to the trap, too. Not knowing what to do, I left the trap in there for several days, but I never caught the mole and neither will you ever catch it in a trap, because the soil in a hotbed is always loose and as soon as the mole strikes an obstruction it will go around it. Some of the plants were thrown out every day and all I could do was to plant them again. One day while I was doing this I saw the mole working in the other end of the bed. I caught the little miner by its neck and killed it instantly, but I never will do this again. I took the dead mole to my friend, a young doctor, who cut it open for me and we examined the little fellow very carefully, but we did not find any plant roots in it, but a number of remains of insects; cut worms, eel worms, wire worms, larvae of other insects like the potato bug; plant lice, slugs and fish worms, etc. From this examination I know that the mole does not make its living from roots, or parts of plants, as so many people believe. The roots may be broken off accidentally or because the injurious insect is resting on it when the mole is looking for carnivorous food. Therefore, we should never kill a mole, as by this means we will be increasing our insect supply. My dear reader, are you going to go into the business of growing insects or plants? Of course, this mole is in no way welcome in the hotbed, but at the same time it is not necessary to kill it, only drive it out of your hotbed and this can be done very easily. i.—Before you bring the manure into the hotbed put some small-meshed galvanized wire at the bottom and around the inside 10