Nineteenth century poets, like John Keats, were fond of odes. Keats is particularly famous for a relatively short one extolling the beauty of a Grecian urn, and a longer one about a nightingale. If only he had lived long enough to be introduced to the sturdy garden fork that hangs in silence on my garage … Read more
TOO MUCH, TOO FAST This is the time of year when the garden is a rampaging torrent of growth. Plants—cultivated and wild—are increasing with reckless abandon, vying with each other in Darwinian attempts to attract as many pollinators as possible. Every day I pull out handfuls of garlic mustard, chickweed, immature pokeweed and other noxious … Read more
Time was running short and rain was pouring down. I had one available shopping day before my hard-won, garden center bonus bucks were set to expire. There was only one thing to do–get in the car and go. After all, bonus bucks don’t come along every day. Lightening flashes illuminated the route to the excellent, … Read more
