(It takes two
curves, let us say once more, to make even half of the gentlest wave
that can be made, if you take it from the middle of the crest to the
middle of the trough, and in our American gardening thousands of lawns,
especially small front lawns, are spoiled in their first layout by being
sloped in a single curve instead of in two curves bending opposite
ways.) Along a side of this greensward farthest from the boundary to
which the house is so closely set are the drive and walk, in one, and on
the farther side of these, next the sun, is the main flower-garden, half
surrounding another and smaller piece of lawn. The dwelling stands
endwise to the street and broadside to this expanse of bloom. Against
its front foundations lies a bed of flowering shrubs which at the corner
farthest from the drive swings away along that side's boundary line and
borders it with shrubbery down to the street, the main feature of the
group being a luxuriant flowering quince as large as ten ordinary ones
and in every springtime a red splendor.
But the focus of the gardening scheme is at the southeasterly side
entrance of the house. To this the drive comes on unrigorous lines from
the street. The walk curves away a few steps earlier to go to the front
door but the drive, passing on, swings in under the rear corner windows
and to the kitchen steps, veers around by the carriage-house door and so
loops back into itself.
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