I am a bean gardener. Not just any bean gardener, mind you—I am one because I love to eat beans. There's something deeply satisfying about seeing big glass jars full  …

When my son Dan started kindergarten 23 years ago, parents decided to replace the old, lethal metal playground with modern wooden structures. The school, built in the 1960s on a  …

The yard was a wild expanse, an untamed canvas of green, encircled by thorny brambles that whispered secrets on the wind. It was October, and the rains had come, cloaking  …

The minister gazed thoughtfully over his congregation and asked, “What will be your legacy?” Naturally, we all mumbled, scratched our heads, and avoided eye contact like we’d just been asked  …

At dawn, Thumbelina woke with cheer, As sunlight kissed the trees so near. She hopped aboard her nutshell boat,  …

Ah, the robins, with their puffed-out chests and adorable strut, embody the heralds of Spring. But behind their charm lies a mischievous streak that tests the patience of even the  …

Through most of my childhood, there were a few possible answers to that question. One: “She’s under the deck, playing Huck Finn.” Two: “She’s at the train tracks, looking for  …

I’ve always had a black thumb, much to my grandmother's chagrin. She could grow anything, and I grew up marveling at her abundant garden. The fresh produce was a delightful  …

After 18 months of neglect, the state of my garden was predictable. It had gone to wrack and ruin, a casualty of my intense involvement in the Sandwich Generation, managing  …

In the heart of February's chill, Summer finds its way to my doorstep—not in the form of sunshine or warmth, but through the mail. Bundled in layers against the frosty  …