Excerpt from A Gardener's Year
Many a book have I sat down to commence, all of them with a humble heart, but none that I can remember in quite such earnest fear and trembling as this gardener's diary for the year 1903. For more seasons than I care to count I have been a gardener in sundry lands, following that most ancient craft with a single mind, and not, I hope, Without learning some of its mysteries. And yet how much remains to learn, more than ever can be learned by me. My case is not singular, however, and herein lies consolation; at least never yet have I met the man or woman who knew everything about gardening, least of all among those who follow it by profession.
These for the most part are good flower-men, or good vegetable-men, or they understand Grapes, or can grow Violets - but fail with Roses and other things. Or per chance, but this is rare, though many there be who swear it, Orchids are their forte. (here I may say at once, speaking as a modest amateur of these last-named lovely plants, rather would I hire a man who had never seen one of them. Of course there are many exceptions, still every grower should pray to be delivered from the new head who understands Orchids. Better far take a novice who is Willing to learn, and train him.)
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