Snowdrops: Theirs is a fragile but hardy celebration... in the very teeth of winter.
To the landscape architect a rock garden... appears... the work of a lunatic.
He lacks much who has no aptitude for idleness.
In his garden every man may be his own artist without apology or explanation. Here is one spot where each may experience the "romance of possibility".
While working among the little plants of the far places of the world we forget the narrowness of our own orbit.
The gardens of my youth were fragrant gardens and it is their sweetness rather than their patterns of their furnishings that I now most clearly recall.