Plants can work magic, some plants, under some circumstances, if we just notice and believe. I experienced this particular magic this morning, lighted by the east to west sunlight at that early hour, as I went out to get the paper.
Things change, in gardening as in everywhere, if you live long and keep gardening, and of course pay attention. And in the garden, the old saying, “The more things change, the more they stay the same,” does not apply.
When my longtime friend and traveling companion, Mary Price, was approaching retirement from her job as an elementary school principal in 1999 (which seems only yesterday in retrospect but is actually 15 years ago), she was asked why she was taking this step.
One of my most treasured trees on this property is a beautiful (to me, and especially in autumn) Chinese tallow tree. It came to us here by accident, traveling in the soil of a blueberry bush we transplanted from our garden in town, when we moved out here in 1986.
A quick pre-breakfast trip to pick up the morning paper (which likely would have been postponed had we not wanted to gloat over the iconic feat of the Madison Central Jaguars’ two-in-a-row defeat of the football factory otherwise dubbed “the University of South Panola”) prove
Finally, finally, we get the kitchen straight and chores squared away, and settle down to watch the U.S. Open tennis match. And what do we see? The less than scintillating drama of the expensive roof slowly, slowly closing ...
It was rather amazing to discover a very large tree that my cousin Mary Kathryn, and I played beneath when we were very young is now on the National Register of Big Trees, and is the only example of its species, the China fir, on the Mississippi state listing of Mississippi’
My energetic young daffodil growing friend, Annette Parker Kahn from south Louisiana, who may have met a plant or two she didn’t like but none that she could not identify, thinks it’s a great shame that in all my gardening travels I’ve never been to the superb southern outpos