“O Pest, Where is Thy Sting?”
Being British by birth (though now Pennsylvanian by marriage), every Summer afternoon I take a garden tea—on our screened porch. The air may be steamy, but it is a drowsily ...
Being British by birth (though now Pennsylvanian by marriage), every Summer afternoon I take a garden tea—on our screened porch. The air may be steamy, but it is a drowsily ...
We do not read of flowers in the Garden of Eden, but of trees—trees that (except for one) were given to us as food. Nevertheless, those of us who plant ...
My houseplants, like me, are longing to go out to the garden. When I brought them inside at the end of the Summer, they were green and lush, washed clean ...
"Writers can use rejected manuscripts to line the bottom of a bean trench and retain moisture," advises Bridget Boland in Gardeners' Magic. This, for me, is an excellent tip, for ...
Life used to be easier for gardeners. We didn't bother with compost. When plants looked pale, the nice man at the hardware store gave us green stuff to put on ...
She was the most ornery, irritating dog that ever was. She looked like a cross that no breeder ever could have achieved, between a favorite toy . . . and ...
One year, the pergola over our terrace in Italy was particularly heavy with grapes and I decided to try my hand at winemaking. Since we had no bathroom, we did ...
When I lived in Italy, all the women vigorously Spring-cleaned their houses before Easter. When the houses were spanking clean, the priest would come to them and bless them. Of ...
One year my children came home from summer camp excited about tie-dyeing. Although I was, of course, delighted that they had learned a craft and wanted to spend their time ...
There is an assumption amongst gardeners that Spring was really created either by us or (at the least) for us. Others might have a vague appreciation of it-they do ordinary ...
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