Flower-beds in hideous geometrical designs—anchors, hearts, and crescents—or patterned ‘carpet’ effects, such as we see in the West, even ‘herbaceous borders’ of a hundred swearing shades, are quite unknown in Japan. What nearest approaches garden-beds are the masses of Chrysanthemums in the grounds of some palaces, in the open space facing the ladies’ chamber, as in the Koma-Chi-Ma, Tsubone-Veya, and in the grounds of the Imperial Palace at Akasake.
Maples are usually placed at some distance from the house, or, as in the case of Plum, interspersed with evergreens and Laurels, as their bold beauty needs distance and atmosphere to enhance it. But those little star-shaped leaves, ‘the shape of a baby’s hand,’ are so admired for themselves that they are often seen set beside stone lanterns (as in the Ashinoyu garden, facing page 156), with a slender branch obscuring the light, and to make a pattern upon it in silhouette, when the lamp is lit at night.
I think it is because the Japanese shrink from the idea of death in their gardens, quite as much as it is that they dislike the litter of fallen leaves, the untidiness of fading stalk and petal, that they do not often introduce floral annuals into their gardens, except in pots. Indeed, one reason why it can be said that more than half the gardens in Japan are green gardens
