One Sunday morning last summer, I came around the corner to the coffee pot to find Sammy and Mr. Bill looking befuddled. When Sam saw me, she said the words squash bugs, and at once, I understood. Any gardener in July would. “My zucchini plants were beautiful,” she said, “and just like that--- gone.” “I … Continue reading The Mortification of Squash Bugs
There's a time to plant and a time to pluck up what is planted, and in March, I do a little of both. Winter is on its last leg, and I’ve been repairing, repotting, replanting, and rethinking the best ways to keep deer out of the garden this year. I realize there was a lot … Continue reading A Time to Plant
A True Story from Home Marilee and her sisters cooked up a storm in Aunt Emma’s kitchen— checkerboard cakes, popsicles made from fresh cow cream, and Aunt Emma’s squirrel dumplings. They’d haul vegetables in from the garden, eating the asparagus on their way back to the farmhouse. Marilee’s family lived in a Missouri suburb but … Continue reading Aunt Emma’s Kitchen
On Saturday, I did three things respectively: I planted a fall crop of bibb lettuce and kale; I wrestled chicken wire to build a fence around the box; and then I wiped sweat from my neck and dared the squirrels and deer to have a go at it. For good measure, I also took clippings … Continue reading Dead Wood
Dear Lord, I am not the gardener I was in March, when the earth was thawing, and I stood on a blank slate, and the only green things were the points of the bulbs. I had springtime hopes, just as I always do. When I thought about August, I saw myself filling Wal-Mart bags with … Continue reading A Gardener’s Lament
March winds have torn the plastic on our little greenhouse, so I clomped out in my rubber boots last Tuesday to reinforce what I could. I needed the staple gun from the shed, so I fit the key in the lock and pushed the door open. My eyes widened to the darkness and ran up … Continue reading The Snake in the Shed
I listen to a news briefing as I walk Edgewood, warm winds tossing the trees. I hear there are bodies being flung from planes. I don’t remember seeing the little American flag on Rivara’s mailbox before. Old Highway 50 is hot and quiet, and there are black-eyed Susans and zinnias growing around that tin-roofed house … Continue reading Homefront
I find it hard to throw myself into something if my life doesn’t depend on it. My siblings and I used to use the phrase, “Do it right, or don’t do it at all,” and it came to my head last week. I didn’t realize it's a motto I still chant under my breath. Yesterday, … Continue reading The Worth of a Garden
This article was written for AnchoredPassion.com. I grew up between two brothers and down the street from three more boys, so I learned right away you’d never score a touchdown if you didn’t know how to juke. I was fast, but so were they, and without a quick stop, pump, and twist, I’d never make … Continue reading Play (Or Plod) To Win
I wrote a letter to my friend, Sarah, last week and told her I’m suffering from Gardening Shame. There are weeds in every box, and I haven’t re-mulched the paths, so black tarp shows through like the garden’s underwear. My tomato plants won't take to the soil and stand limp. Zoysia grass creeps in and … Continue reading Gardening Shame
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