The Pensacola journal. (Pensacola, Fla.) 1898-1985, 1916-05-04
A GARDEN
OF BEAUTY.

ways suggests roses, and no one hears
the name of California without Wis
ioning flame of yellow peoples. One
may not have visited Portland, and
may be equally unfamiliar with Cali
fornia, but so often have we heard of
the roses of Portland, and the won
derful rose festival, and so often are
we told of the charm and beauty of
the yellow peoples of California that
at once when these names are men
toned we have a mental picture Of
the beauties of which we have heard.
Pensacola has many blossoms more
beautiful than the roses of Portland,
and as luxuriant as the peoples Of
California.
Yesterday I had the privilege of
visiting a garden bright with bloom
and sweet with fragrance and beau
ty. Along the fence sweet peas lifted
their delicate faces to catch the
breath of the rain, that was just com
ing mistily in from the bay. Thou
sands of these blossoms there were,
and thousands more in bud, that will
be blossom today. Deep rose, and
soft she'll Apink and pure white, and
all the tender shades with which Ma
ture has so beautifully painted these
blossoms. Along the BORDERS of the
bed nearby there were rows of pam
sizes, purple and yellow, shades of
delft blue, and bright golden hues,
suggestive of the Orient.
The bed blossomed bright with
crimson verbena, and there were other
patches of pure white, and in this
same bed there were larkspurs, the
kind that our grandmothers knew
and cultivated, wearing regal purple
and the pure white that this flower
knows. And, sweeter and fairer still,
and reminiscent of those DAYS when
crinolines were in vogue, just as they
are today, were china pinks, fringed
and beautiful, running the ganut of
color from shell pink to deep Grim
son.
And there were roses, all coIors,
heavy-headed and fragrant.
It was Tennyson who said:
Flower in the crannied wall,
pluck you out of the Granny
And hold you here in my hand, little
flower,
But if | could understand what you
are, little flower,
Root and all, and all in all,
I should know what God and man is"
No words can describe the beauty
of the flowers, but as I looked about
me at all this wealth of blossom, and
as the fragrance and the beauty
swept across my spirit, the thought
came to me:
Why is not Pensacola celebrated as
the most wonderful flower city in the
world, when one ~'ay have such wealth
of bloom? Not Portland nor Califo--
MIA may give to us any beauty great
er than this garden gives.
It is the home garden that after
all makes the beauty of city. In
this beautiful garden Mrs. P. A.
Flodin has planted these blossoms be-
cause she loves them. Her home is
surrounded by their beauty. Their
color and fragrance are her daily
blessing, which reaches out from her
home into other homes.
But If such a garden as this were
the usual thing, if the glory of bios
soming were In all the gardens of
the city, as it is in this, then when
the mind sped back, with the picture
of the water that always comes to
one with the thought of Pensacola,
would come the color and fragrance
of the flowers.
With such luxuriant growth as this
possible every place in Pensacola
should be a beauty spot.
In Mobile, in Columbus, and other
southern cities they are spending
much time and effort in the work of
creating beautiful cities.
Pensacola is naturally one of the
most beautiful cities in the world.
But all beauty, to endure, must be