The Gardeners' Apprentice WHERE THE BUFFALO ROAM A few years ago I was a smug gardener, secure in the knowledge that the worst wildlife problem in my garden was the groundhog. Granted, he was as large as a beach ball, perpetually hungry and capable of digging underground routes reminiscent of the Lincoln Tunnel; but he was manageable. … Read more
CARPETING A few weeks ago, I wrote about my ongoing study of pioneering Irish gardener and writer, William Robinson (1848-1935). The measure of a good garden writer is the degree to which he or she inspires you to pick up a trowel and run out into your own garden. Though much of his … Read more
LILY ENVY “Envy” is such a nasty word. So is “covet.” Since I like to avoid nasty words when discussing plants, I will settle for “admire,” as in, “I admire other people’s lilies to distraction.” With or without the euphemisms, this emotion has gotten to be a seasonal habit. Just as I generally wake … Read more
BOOK REVIEW–EMBROIDERED GROUND If I were to name my property–as many Brits and some Americans do–I would probably call it something like “Untrimmed Hedges” or “Perennial Chaos,” in honor of the garden’s defining features. However, I have never really felt the urge to bestow a name on my little slice of suburbia. Author and … Read more
WILLIAM ROBINSON AND I William Robinson and I are an odd couple. He was born in Ireland in 1838, only one year after Queen Victoria took the throne. I was born in New York City many, many years later. He was so successful in his garden writing and real estate investments that he was … Read more
