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Seattle Times"Beverly Nichols makes an unequivocal case for water in the garden."䃀Valerie Easton, Seattle Times, August 31, 2004
— Valerie Easton
But there was one woman whose way with flowers was so unique, whose whole approach to this enchanting domestic art was so fresh and creative, that she stands far apart from her tiresome imitators, and far, far above them. Her name, as you may have guessed, was Constance Spry, and this might be a fitting place in which to pay her tribute.
A hundred years hence the name of Constance Spry may well have the same sort of lustre as the names of Gertrude Jekyll and Mrs. Beeton. She was a woman destined for immortality in the Temple of the Household Gods. She has had the same sort of impact in her small and delightful world as many great reformers in a wider sphere, in the sense that we can speak quite definitively of a pre-Spry and a post-Spry period. When Constance first went out into the country lanes and gathered her faded leaves and her curious berries and her spectral branches, and when she proceeded to create from these unfamiliar ingredients designs of baroque beauty, she was writing a fragrant page of history. Needless to say she was imitated, she was misunderstood, she was parodied and sometimes she was abused. But she had established a point of no return; with Constance the art of flower decoration became adult, and nothing will ever be quite the same again.
I was honoured with the friendship of this charming person, who once paid me in one of her books the supreme compliment of saying that I was the only person she had ever met who had discovered a way of arranging sweet peas. If this seems a trivial matter to you, in does not seem so to me; often at times when the critics have been particularly beastly, I have retreated to a dark corner, and muttered to myself: 'Well, whatever they may say in the Sunday Express, at least Constance thought I could arrange sweet peas'
The particular decoration to which she referred was at a party given in her honour. There were, of course, lilies in abundance and vast vases in the Spry tradition, vases recalling the lines of the poet:
Voici des fruits, des fleurs, des feuilles et des branches, Et puis, voici mon coeur, qui ne bat que pour vous.
But I wanted something of my very own, something which she could not accuse me of having copied from her. So I went out into the kitchen garden to think, and there I saw a long row of sweet peas. But what could one do with sweet peas?
This is what I did. I picked a bunch starting with the pure whites, and going on to the ivories and the creams, set them next to the very soft pinks, and the palest blues, followed by the cherries and the brighter blues, merging into the deep reds and the deepest blues, and ending with the dark violets and the near-blacks. I set these, in precisely that order, in a white basket. The result was a floral rainbow which made the party. And gave me, in the words of Constance Spry, my little accolade of immortality.
Garden Open Today
Facsimile of the Original Edition of 1963 6
Index by Roy C. Dicks 253