Honey, there’s a fawn in the astilbe!

This morning was no different from most. I woke at 6:30, rose and dressed; sleeping was over and there was much to do to prepare for Father’s Day forty-eight hours away. Morning tasks are always the same. I started the coffee, mixed my morning yogurt with something...

The Green, Green Green of Home

I suspect that it may be true that chocolate milk comes from chocolate cows. It has been a miraculous few days of pleasant temperatures, light winds, and sky and clouds as brightly blue and white as Delft pottery. Last week temperatures rose on the shoulders of...

Westminster Quarters

Theo was not pleased. She parked herself in the doorway to the office, as though following instructions about seeking safety during an earthquake. Her tail locked around her legs and her yellow eyes gleamed disapproval. I wasn’t quite sure what the noise was. It...

Endings

There are two snowy clematis on the fence that guards the edge of the retaining wall, twin blossoms turning their faces toward the sky. They caught me somewhat by surprise. In the spring I was thrilled by their glossy leaves and cluster of blooms waving at me. It...
The Gardener’s Gene

The Gardener’s Gene

Is there a time-release bit of gardener’s DNA in the human genome that wakes up when one reaches “a certain age”? As a child and under duress from my mother I planted zinnia seeds. I didn’t particularly care for the flowers–I think Ma had...