April 3 – Grand Beginnings This morning, I began starting seeds. Tomatoes, cucumbers, kale plus one row of heirloom eggplant for flair. I lined them up on the sunny windowsill  …

We board our horses at a local barn where we take riding lessons. The other day, I learned something so exciting I couldn't wait to get home and tell my  …

Arthur Minick, my grandfather, had a cellar dug in 1936 to store eggs from the hens that clucked above it. My Uncle Harry, the oldest of the four Minick boys,  …

The first apron smelled like thyme and old cotton. I found it at the bottom of Aunt Lou’s sewing drawer, tucked beneath brittle seed packets and a tangle of yellowed  …

The pumpkin sits in the corner, silent and still, waiting for the One Big Night—its night—to awaken from quiet slumber and become its true self. I will be there to  …

I used to believe that my garden slept at night. The crickets chirped their tireless songs, owls hooted from somewhere in the trees, and that was the extent of nocturnal  …

If you’re reading this in your garden, that’s ideal. If you’re singing it aloud with gusto, even better. And if you happen to be carrying a trowel as you sing,  …

Elaine and I make our home in Golden Valley, Minnesota—just five miles from downtown Minneapolis, yet our backyard feels like the edge of a nature preserve. Behind us lies a  …

After 45 years of marriage to my wife, Marilynne—an avid gardener with more ideas than a seed catalog—I’ve learned that the best fertilizer for a good marriage is patience, humor,  …

I swear I saw it coming—the day the squirrels finally declared war. It began with a tomato. Not just any tomato, but the tomato—a plump, sun-warmed, red marvel I’d admired  …