The Natchitoches enterprise., 1922-11-02
Composer Singer,
Carrie Jacobs Bond
By Wynonah Breazeale Johnson

l
winding path between the wild
roses, / came upon her, before
the pool over which the fusci;'
bent to see it's reflection, scatter.
ling vivid peels on the still surface
of the water, where they f1oated
adrift like fairy craft. She held
up her finger to eDjoln silence
and there above the ripple of the
brook. and the silvery splash OF
the water as it tumbled down the
rocks into the pool, then brimmed
over into the pool below that one,
/ heard the futter of little wings,
and stood enjoying with her the
additions of several birds, making
their toilets in the upper fern
fringed pool among the brown
rocks. In the laurel tree vivid
splash of blue indicated an OBJ
server of the bathing-baach. Two
tiny humming birds hovered over
the fuscia's gorgeous fl>wer%;
above the musical sound Of run
ring water, came brisk "tweet
ltweets" and chirps as the feather
ed visitors commented on the
accommodations Planned for them.
Then, shaking the shining drops
from their wings, the birds fin
ished their toilets in the sunshine,
and few away in a noisy swirl.
Mrs. Carrie Jacobs Bond sank
into a garden benc:, under tree,
and famed herself Wit, her hat.
Gardening is strenuous work, and
she was flushed from the sunshine;
her vigor and 1.-THE girlishness
may be traced largely to her out
door life in her beloved garden.
DO you wonder l find no place
like my cwn garden. in all the
uorldlo she asked glancing low
ingIy around the charming place;
while abroad. this trip, as at
other times, l saw many beautiful
garden spots ambitious. formal
gardens, those of every type-but
there was none I'D exchange for
my own hillside. They were
often gardens to admire seldom
gardens to love-and you know
"A garden is lovesome spot,
God wot" Mine has just
grown. I've helped it, and fur
thered it-and planned it-but it's
just grown"
1t is truly one of the loveIiest-
and most lovable garden-1've
ever seen. THE End of the
Road" Carrie Jacobs Bonds
home in Hollywood. is at the end
of tle little canyon, of which
there are SO many beautiful ones
in California. and it is part of the
canyon. too. as sometimes homes,
unfortunately, are not. but aliens
in protesting landscape. Wind
ing walks and stairs of brick lead
up to it naturally, and all four of
its levels open out on different
garden vistas. From her own
bedroom Mrs. Bond may cross a
rustic bridge and enter the small
amphitheater, where swings and
rustic seats around the fountain
and pool make ideal setting for
the reading and little impromptu
programs she and her famous
guests delight in most.
High canyon walls are faced
with their own rough stones, over
which Chamber vines and shrubs.
The winding paths lead to differ
ent levels where one comes sud-
denly upon beauty spots, a fern
garden, or a wall-fountain; q tan
gle of the wild roses which cover
the hillside. or wild strawberry
plants which belong to this dis
trict, and which have been care.
fully nurtured to bring them to
perfection. Ths silver. of dusty
miller edges the walks and paths;
roses in fragrant profusion,
brought from various climes,
promise heavenly bloom in others.
Fragrant pine trees and other
stately or small trees grow in diff
ferent parts of the garden, and
each season there is q continuous
riot of color, for Mrs. Bond has
wisely left many things as nature
plsced them, and equally wisely
added others, until the whole gar
den is ! ''lovesome spot"
There is N outdoor fireplace of
rugged stone. where merry pic