Make A Fool Of Yourself In Public


No one ever had to tell me to do this. No one had to encourage me to just let go. Believe me, it happens enough on its own. The time I dragged a strand of toilet paper out of my waistband all the way down the bleachers from top to bottom at a football game comes to mind.

Sometimes joy overtakes me, and especially when I hear a good song, which makes me want to dance and sing like I’m in a show on Broadway or in a 1930’s feel-good-even-if-it’s-the-Great-Depression movie. I hear that song and I’m dancing and singing down the canned soup aisle, the pasta and sauce aisle, or amongst the vegetables. I don’t care who sees or hears because I’m only here once, right? I’m going to grab it while I can. It’s even better when my sisters are with me and we’re the whole damn Broadway chorus line.

Yes, I’ve fallen flat on my rear in the ice like a clumsy penguin, flopping around and sliding whilst I try to stand again and so what if there’s a crowd watching? Once I’m up, I just laugh and bow like I meant it and like I expect applause. That’s fun, too, as long as I’m still intact.

Really, we all need to take advantage of every moment when we can find the fun in our existence. It all goes so much better for us when we do, even and especially, the crappy times. 

Besides, you know in Shakespeare’s plays, anyway, the fool is always the one who knows it all and who can say the truth without retribution.

When I audition for a part, I choose to play the fool every time!

* A calendar page suggestion

If You Give Me Images…


In our family, when I was small, we always wore red, plasticized cloth poppies on Poppy Day, the last Monday in May, Memorial Day for us in the US. I never associated those fabricated poppies with the big-petaled orange poppies I later saw growing by my friend Coco’s porch in Grants Pass, when I was in my 20’s.  Such lovely flowers, big as my hand with crepey thin petals colored like blazing flames! I felt they truly meant being flowers.

            I wanted to grow some poppies where I lived in Burns, but they refused to grow. Poppy season is early, so maybe I planted the seeds my friend gave me too late. Or maybe it was too cold in the winter, too hot and dry in the summer, and the soil too alkaline. I don’t know, but I was disappointed.

            When Neal and I moved to our most recent home, the owner before had grown the vibrant red opium poppies, Papaver somniferum, in her vegetable garden. I don’t know where she found her seeds, because in my experience, finding those poppy seeds is difficult, and remains so. I didn’t even know they were opium poppies until some plant expert told me.

            For a few years the red poppies re-seeded themselves and then they died out. I haven’t found any more seeds to replace them. I have easily grown the small, orange California poppies that come in wildflower seed packets, and used them in herbal concoctions. I have saved seeds from orange and white poppies but still long for the red, red, red.

            Visiting the Parthenon in Athens was a thrill for me, not only for the ruins, but also for the red poppies that cover the ground everywhere and are considered weeds by some. I wonder if poppies are older in origin than the Parthenon? My research tells me that they probably are.

            Another question that arises is this:  Does the fact that the Parthenon was built according to the Golden Ratio often found in the human body, flowers, plants and beehives among other natural things, have some special significance and connection?

            We know poppies were around in Ancient Greek times because Demeter’s emblem was the poppy which grew among the barley/ Theocritus wrote: “ For the Greeks Demeter was still a poppy goddess, bearing sheaves and poppies in both hands.” Idyll vii 157.

            Poppies were also used for coloring in tapestries of the time. 

            Before that, poppies were connected with a Cretan cult, and that reached Classical Greece, brought to Eleusis. They were making opium from then even then. Robert Graves speculated that the meaning of the depiction and use of poppies in Greco-Roman myths is the symbolism of the bright scarlet color as signifying the promise of resurrection after death. 

The earliest reference to opium growth and use is in 3,400 B.C. when the opium poppy was cultivated in lower Mesopotamia (Southwest Asia).  The Sumerians referred to it as Hul Gil, the “joy plant.” The Sumerians soon passed it on to the Assyrians, who in turn passed it on to the Egyptians. As people learned of the power of opium, demand for it increased. Now it grows wild in Eastern and Southern Asia and Southeastern Europe, and is cultivated in other parts of the world for opium production. An interesting fact is that although the opium poppy has the highest concentration of narcotics, all poppies in the Papaver genus do contain some amount of narcotic. 

            Regardless of some growers’ nefarious usage of the Papaver somniferum, I love them for their beauty, however short-lived. I wonder why certain flowers speak to us more than others? Poppies weren’t a part of my childhood so that’s not it. Is there maybe a certain vibration or that Golden Ratio we share that makes us feel like kin?

            Because I didn’t know where the previous owner of our property had procured her seeds, I also wondered those years the opium poppies grew themselves if the FBI would be showing up!

            Now I know not to worry. I’m lucky also, because Master Gardener Sally McGee has so generously promised to bring me some poppy seeds for my summer garden!

* A photo of poppies, among several other options, was offered in a writing group I attend.


Whenever Louise and I travel together, there WILL be a garden involved, and our recent jaunt to San Antonio was no exception! We enjoyed the famous downtown river walk, LBJ’s Texas White House and ranch, The Alamo, Fredericksburg and Johnson City, but we found the San Antonio Botanical Garden to be a real Texas treasure!

            The day had been wet and sprinkled on us from time to time, but the sun also came out, so we didn’t mind.  We got in our daily exercise and our quota of fresh air at the same time we gave our eyes something beautiful to regard. I know that botanical gardens in general depend upon their volunteers and funding sources, so sometimes a person has to be forgiving if a path isn’t kept up, or if weeds have reared their ugly heads or necessary pruning hasn’t been done or if identification signs are missing. However, the first thing I noticed was how pristine and well-maintained this garden is. When that’s the case, it’s like giving your eyes a siesta so they can focus better on the beauty. 

            The second thing I noticed was the art interspersed throughout the garden, lovely and often whimsical pieces. For me, gardens and whimsy are a necessary pairing. My favorite pieces here were the giant ants storming the large hill. There were many places surrounding the ants to catch them from a variety of viewpoints. The hill is a great place to catch a glimpse of downtown San Antonio as well. 

My other favorite art piece was a giant chessboard and pergola, which was part of the amphitheater, and four giant Adirondack chairs in primary colors from which to watch the chessboard. 

            Also amazing were the several conservatories, beautiful architectural structures of glass, concrete and metal, comprising the Desert Room, the Tropical Room, the Palm and Cycad Pavillion, the Orangerie and the exhibit hall. Lovely to regard outside and warm, cozy and inviting inside. 

            One of my outside favorites was the fern grotto—rocks and water and green, rather like home, right? Children have their own veggie garden as well. Because we had a limited amount of time to spend, we had to chug right along, through the Culinary Garden, the Japanese Garden, the Rose Garden, the Water Saver Garden, The Sacred Garden, and the Texas Native Trail. We didn’t have time to see the East Texas Pineywoods and Lake, but that gives us a reason to return.

The San Antonio Botanical Garden’s mission is to inspire people to connect with the plant world and understand the importance of plants in our lives and you can see by the variety of gardens available there is plenty of inspiration to be had. The garden is recognized nationally for commitment to outstanding displays, botanical diversity, education, environmental stewardship, and experiences that connect people to the natural world. It’s obvious from our short visit that all that is happening for the 150,000 annual visitors. 

If you visit San Antonio, of course take part in all that the downtown and surrounding areas have to offer, but be sure to put the San Antonio Botanical Garden on your list! 

The Amazing Sunflower


The natural world around us never fails to amaze me, and because of ongoing research, there is always some interesting fact to discover. Most recently, I read an article stating that sunflowers, on a cloudy day, turn to face each other for protection because they know rain might occur and cause harm. (The article went on to assert that perhaps it would be good for humans to show the same sort of protection to one another, an assertion that seems reasonable and palliative in the world we inhabit at present. That action is in our genes and we ought to pay attention to it, the way plants and trees, who are said to have no brains, do.)

I wondered what other fabulous facts about sunflowers I could garner if I went searching. Gardeners generally know that sunflowers turn to face the sun during the day, hence the French name, “tournesol.” To actually watch fields of sunflowers in southern France as they turn during the day is a delight.

Sunflower is the only flower with flower in its name. “Helianthus,” the scientific name of sunflower, comes fromheliafor sun and anthusfor flower. There are about 70 species of sunflowers.

What makes them turn?  Both their circadian clocks and genetically-driven growth rates. This is called heliotropism(solar tracking). Special motor cells at the bases of the flower buds shrink or enlarge as they absorb water, which moves their faces towards the sun. The stems of young sunflowers grow more at night, but only on their west side, which is what allows their heads to bend eastward. 

How did sunflowers get here? Sunflowers are native to the Americas, cultivated as far back as 3000 BC.  They were brought from the Netherlands to Russia by Tsar Peter the Great and used for the only sanctioned oil during Lent, then brought back to the USA by Russian immigrants. 

Other amazing facts:They have traveled to space. In 2012, US astronaut Don Pettit brought sunflower seeds to the International Space Station. You can read his blog about his gardening process. They have a history of healing. In Mexico, the flowers were thought to sooth chest pain. A number of Native American tribes agreed. The Cherokee utilized an infusion of sunflower leaves to treat kidneys while the Dakota brought it out to sooth “chest pain and pulmanery troubles.”

What is a sunflower’s petals not?  Because the ray florets lack either of the male and female gametes, it’s a neuter flower and has lost its ability to perform sexual reproduction.  The realflower is the brown patches present on the inner sides. The florets inside the circular head are called disc florets, which mature into seeds. The disc florets have both male and female sex organs and each one produces a seed. The sunflower looks like it does in order to attract insects and birds, which pollinate it so we animals get thousands of seeds. Thank you, Big H!

How are the heads organized? The flower petals within the sunflower’s cluster are always in a spiral pattern. Each floret is oriented toward the next by approximately the goldenangle*, 137.5 degrees, producing a pattern of interconnecting spirals, where the number of left spirals and the number of right spirals are successive Fibonacci numbers.* Typically, there are 34 spirals in one direction and 55 in the other; on a very large sunflower there could be 89 in one direction and 144 in the other.  Wow! Just like everything else in our ordered universe. Kinda woo-woo. I had never really studied a sunflower head intensely before, but after reading this fact, I looked and you can see the spirals and the artistry there. So totally amazing!

What is an interesting super-power that sunflowers have?  They can remove toxins, such as lead, arsenic, and uranium, from contaminated soil. (That’s probably why nothing, not even weeds, grows on the heap of metals-imbued topsoil we received last year, with the exception of sunflowers, seeds probably dropped by birds.) They were used after the Chernobyl disaster to remove uranium, cesium-137, and strontium-90 from the soil.

A quotidian super-power:  Once the flower heads are empty of seeds, they can be converted into disposable scrubbing pads for tough jobs. Who knew? Are you going to try it?

What are sunflowers symbols for? Faith, loyalty, and adoration. They also symbolize worship and faithfulness in various religions, and are associated with spiritual knowledge and the desire to seek light and truth. Incas used sunflowers to symbolize the Sun God, and brought them to temples for worship.

The sunflower is the state flower of what state?  Kansas

How tall can sunflowers grow?Due to hybridization, some are as small as 2’ tall and some, over 10’ tall. In 16thcentury Spain the record height was 24 feet, bested in 2014 in Germany by 30.09 feet. 

For us normal gardeners, how do sunflowers grow best?  They need 6-8 hours of sunlight a day to grow their best. They like a pH 6.0 to 7.5. They require 34 inches of water annually and if cut for a bouquet, will last 5-12 days. Cut your bouquet flowers in the morning so they last longer. Most sunflowers are annuals, and can re-seed themselves if the seed heads are left for birds to enjoy during the winter. Some perennial varieties exist and will grow flowers the next season.  You can deadhead them before the seeds start to form in order for more blooms to grow, but why? You’re a better steward of nature if you let them seed for our avian friends. If you want the seeds for yourself, wait until the seeds dry completely, then cut off the head about 12-18 inches down the stem. You can put a paper sack around the stem so the seeds can be caught, or you can pick them all out yourself by hand.  Then boil in salted water for 5-10 minutes, dry the seeds on a baking sheet, and bake at 325 degrees F. for 25 minutes or so. When cool, chew and leave spit-out hulls everywhere like you did in junior high. Hahahaha!

Human uses of sunflower seeds: They are a healthy snack food, with an ability to stimulate hair growth, promote heart health, aid in weight loss, lower cholesterol levels, and affect cancer cells. They provide us with alpha-tocopherol and B6, antioxidants, carotenoids and much more. ¼ cup serving contains over 200 calories. The seeds contain tryptophan, which increases the brain’s fabrication of serotonin, which then reduces tension and creates a relaxed feeling. The choline content plays a vital role in memory and vision functions. The seeds also, because of betaine and arginine , protect against cardiovascular diseases like high blood pressure. The lignans prevent heart attacks and atherosclerosis. Sunflower seeds help the thyroid gland maintain optimal metabolism. The fiber helps with digestion-related problems. They help reduce arthritis symptoms. It’s not good to eat too many, however. ¼ cup daily is about right, but remember those 200 calories.

What animals eat sunflower seeds? Besides livestock and birds, the seeds are also sought out by squirrels, chipmunks, garden mice, bears and raccoons. 

And finally, can you propagate sunflowers?Yes. Take your material from vigorous and succulent side shoots. A 4-6-inch-long stem with mature leaves and no buds or flowers will root best and produce a shapely plant. 

When I started my research, I knew very little about sunflowers, except that seeing them made me happy. That alone was enough for me until the article spurred my research. I’ve seen sunflowers all my life, yet realize I’ve taken them for granted. We do this with many mundane things, I fear. How interesting to study the commonplace and be astounded!

Here’s an addendum to spur your interest in the commonplace:  Flies have two compound eyes, each made up of 3000-6000 lenses, and a triangle of three simple eyes, called ocelli. Now, it’s your turn to find out more!

Golden angle: In geometry, the golden angle is the smaller of the two angles created by sectioning the circumference of a circle according to thegolden ratio; that is, into two arcs such that the ratio of the length of the smaller arc to the length of the larger arc is the same as the ratio of the length of the larger arc to the full circumference of the circle.

Fibonacci numbers:  In mathematics, the Fibonacci numbers for a sequence, such that each number is the sum of the two preceding ones, starting from 0 and 1. For example: 0, 1, 1, 2, 3, 5, 8, 13, 21, 34, 55… This appears in biological settings, such as branching in trees, the arrangement of leaves on a stem, the fruit sprouts of a pineapple, the flowering of an artichoke, and uncurling fern and the arrangement of a pine cone’s bracts. 

All of the facts presented herein were found in Wikipedia and other online sources. 

Fair Sharing

When I went to the Tillamook County Fair Office to pick up my ribbons and rewards, I was excited to receive $15 in prize money. This may not seem like a sum worthy of excitation, but what it represents to me, is. 

In my teen years, our family lived on a 30-acre farm. My father also worked nights at the nearby lumber mill. We practiced subsistence living, not because it was trendy, but because we were very, very, very poor. My parents agonized every year, worried they could not make the place payment. 

Simply put, there was no money for anything other than the most essential of essentials, not even emergencies. If my sister Anita and I wanted to wear clothes, we had to make the money to pay for them ourselves. Our parents decided we would do that by raising sheep, which by the way, I detested. We had no say in the matter, which is really what I detested. I wanted to raise a pig because I saw they brought a bigger paycheck when sold, they didn’t stink like lanolin, we generated lots of green matter to feed them, and they were not stupid. One could have a good conversation with a pig. Not so with a sheep.

No one listened to the budding MBA in me, however, so sheep it was. We also had taken 4-H since we were of age, and had learned to cook, sew, craft leatherwork, judge livestock, and identify weeds and crops. We also won ribbons and received prizes for this labor, besides showing our sheep and selling a lamb for profit at the Union County Fair. 

I remember after fair one year, I had made $60, enough for one new outfit at least, and shoes, I hoped. I bought those first, because my sophomore year I went for a couple of months with no shoes, my cheap Sprouse Reitz pair having disintegrated in the rain, mud, and snow, early on. I couldn’t even borrow a pair from my mother because my feet were so huge. My embarrassment was enormous having to wear nothing but boots over my socks, those cheap plastic boots normally worn over shoes. They flopped all around loosely when I walked, making slapping noises as I walked down the halls. I did all I could to be invisible to classmates during those months.

Because of this humiliation, I made sure from then on to always buy decent shoes first when I came into money, then underwear, and then focus on the outer realm. The only way I could do that was to enter items into the fair and trudge through another year of barely motivated sheep raising. 

That’s the reason prize money from the fair has meaning for me. It was the only thing that kept my sister and I clothed from year to year. I am so grateful to 4-H for having given us that opportunity. 

Now, I enter things in the fair because of the fun factor only. I like showing my beautiful and odd flowers and my mosaic glasswork because these things bring me and others joy. Besides, this time, it’s my choice how I’ll make my fair money and how I will pay my riches forward in some quiet way. (My friend LaVerna bought a corn dog with her winnings!) 

Fairs are important because anyone can share the fruits of their labors, and the joys to be found in preparation and sharing. I love seeing what other talents of our community are to be found at a fair and discovering who did what. That’s the joy of entering things in the annual fair. It’s rarely about the money, the acquisition of ribbons, or the fame. We entrants are sharing our soul.

by Karen Keltz

My husband, Neal, and I were looking for lunch in Fort Meyers, FL, where we were vacationing, and went to a restaurant called Twin Peaks, across the road from our motel. 

It was abundantly clear what “twin peaks” stood for, since they hung right out there in our faces. Most “peaks” were embellished with giant jewels hanging down from the women’s necks, in case you missed their twin attributes at first glance. I learned later that Twin Peaks is described as a “breastaurant.” Each “girly girl” (as they are advertised) was wearing a little red and black lumberjack plaid bikini shrugglet on top, short shorts with jewel encrusted belts, and because, god knows they had to be cold, knee high socks and warm boots, like Uggs or lumberjack boots.  Hanging down from their belts was a purse like what men wearing kilts tie around their waists. 

(Later, my husband looked at the website https://twinpeaksrestaurant.comand exclaimed, “Good Lord, listen to this! It sounds like they are advertising prostitutes! ‘The Twin Peaks Girls are the essential ingredient to the perfect lodge experience. They are the beautiful faces that represent the brand and the reason our customers consistently come back for more. Equal parts friendly, engaging, and attentive, the Twin Peas Girls ensure every guest feels like a regular.’”)

TV’s, 100’s of TV’s, hung everywhere, all of them going at once. At each booth was a TV as well, so couples eating, instead of looking at each other, watched their TV screens. There were to be sure, some couples who disregarded their TV’s and stared at their cell phones instead. We sat right next to each other, shouted and read lips to actually communicate, while mood music like “Cocaine” blared in the background.

As Neal said, the decor was a cross between Hooters and Cabela’s, with antler chandeliers and stuffed animal heads along the walls, above the TV’s, of course. I told him none of the “finer points” about this place escaped his notice. 

To be fair, I have to say the food was delicious, though calorie-laden, with not much coming in under 1200 calories. The beer, coming in “man size” and “girly size” was also delicious. Apparently, you are not a man if you don’t drink 22 ounces of beer at a time. My husband, who is 6’ 4”, jeopardized his manliness by ordering the girly 10 oz. beer. We noticed also that the company bottles its ketchup with a “Bottoms Up” logo, featuring a woman’s rear end.

A couple of dads had brought their daughters and I wondered what was going through those little girls’ minds about what they saw, and what lessons they were being taught about what it meant to be female. One father was ignoring his daughter altogether, engrossed in events playing out on one of the many TV’s.

The website describes this establishment as a place with lodge ‘mantality’ where men wear their manliness “like a badge of honor.” Everything is done with the intention to cater to men’s desires like the lumberjacks they are. I couldn’t help noticing that 98% of the men at both the inside and outside bars were soft and obese, not really fitting the “lumberjack” type the restaurant says it’s aiming for as a customer.

Although when I went to the website to check out the girly girl requirements, it told me I had an excellent resume, I think it’s too late for me to apply to work here. For many reasons. One, I’d freeze wearing pants with no legs and shirts with no fronts. Also, for me to fit the advertised requirements, the restaurant would have to be renamed “Twin Suspension.” And finally, nothing makes me more angry than to see women objectified with that “show me your tits” mentality, like some young show cow. 

However, if you truly are a “girly girl” you might enjoy working here. The only sticking point is that you’d have to put your brains away. You could still wear your glasses, though.

I love vacation adventures, don’t you?



That’s what plants in the garden are still shouting this late in the year. I am agog to find a stalk of gladiola blooming yellow, even after the frosts we’ve had. Wandering the yard after a long walk last week, I spied a tall stem of hollyhock sporting vermillion flowers amidst the other blackened stems and seed buds. Wha???

Then, in the herb garden was a blooming calendula where I’d planted seeds way last spring. Some sprouted and grew about an inch and a half and stayed there all summer. I dumped the soil from one of Neal’s grow pots onto the area, and a few weeks later, this calendula was where it should have been by June. Guess it helps to amend the soil from time to time.

Lavender is still blooming in the herb garden, as well as echinaceas up the front walk. What is going on, anyway? Back behind my Japanese Willow, the red dahlias that should have been here by September at least, have finally arrived, short and spindly, but here, nevertheless. I will dig them up and replant next spring in an area with more sun.

Obviously, these surprises can point out gardening lessons.

Even in the pouring rain, outside my bedroom window I can take delight in the two mounds of mauve heather. Every year I go out when it’s the least wet and cut myself some heather here and there to make some flower bundles for my tiny vases. Just today, my garden tour in the surprise of November sun netted me the vision of a hot pink blooming rose, royal blue lithodora, and the beginning dusky rose blooms of the baby hellebores that sprouted up this past spring.

Speaking of surprises—

Lots of us gift our friends with amaryllis bulbs at Christmas time, and they us, so we all can watch the beauty of Nature unfold into gorgeous red blooms. When it was done blooming, I placed mine from last year on the garage floor and ignored it where it sat without water in the dark most of the time until last week when I noticed—surprise!—a green leaf had begun growing. I found a pretty red pot, put the plastic white pot containing the bulb into it, refreshed the required amount of soil on top, fed it a teensy amount of fertilizer, and placed it inside where I can watch the miracle of growth again this Christmas. I love saying “Oooh!” and “Ahhh!”

My friend Sherryl gave me the idea for how I could give another surprise for Christmas to my plant-loving friends. Because she buys tulips from a company that sends only in bulk, 50 at a time, she shares with her friends. She plants a cluster of tulips, usually three, in cute flowerpots, then gives the recipients the colorful little garden-to-go as gifts. That’s a good idea because it circumvents inadvertently feeding those nasty rodents that like tulip bulbs for breakfast, lunch, and dinner when you plant the bulbs into the ground. I love foiling them! Nyah-ha-ha!

No matter what season they arrive in, typical or not, or from what provenance, I am grateful for the surprises the miracle of Nature provides me with. I hope this season provides you with an abundance of wonderful surprises as well!







Because let’s face it—if you are a gardener, you’re also a killer.

If you have weeds overtaking your grass, flowerbeds, and vegetable garden, what do you do?

If you find slugs on the leaves of your precious plants or crossing the sidewalk, what do you do?

If you find ants and earwigs at the bottom of your artichoke leaves, what do you do?

If you find eggs laid on your broccoli heads, what do you do?

If grass is growing over your stepping stones so much you can’t even tell a stone is there, what do you do?

I rest my case.

“…in this world/you have to decide what/you’re willing to kill.” –Tony Hoagland, in his poem “Candlelight”

So this week, here’s what the gardeners on our small patch of ground have been willing to kill: We’ve pulled beets for canning and eating; called Eco Life to come dispatch our bald hornet nest; stepped on and snipped slugs; tossed out the possibly mosquito larvae-ridden water in the birdbaths and swapped for clean water; pulled weeds wherever we saw them (though not nearly enough); pruned back some errant raspberry vines; soaked the artichoke heads in warm salt water and then sprayed them to get all the ants out; and turning over a stepping stone, gasped and smashed ant eggs.

When you’re a gardener, you are making life or death decisions daily. When you hoe or pull weeds, you are telling them bye-bye. Some folks let them lie if there are no seed heads, and let them become compost right where they are. You dig and find slug eggs, ant eggs, and potato bugs. Stamp, stamp, squish, squish! When you prune, you decide what branches get to live and what ones don’t. Deadheading is more gentle, since what you clip off usually isn’t still alive, although if there are seed heads at the ends of stalks, then the promise of life remains. (If you find dried up heads and you want more of that plant next year, save the seeds and plant them in the spring. That’s how I get my hollyhocks, Sweet Williams, and marigolds. In the herb garden, the feverfew, parsley, and chamomile re-seed themselves. Dried seed heads from those weeds I’ve missed is how I get new weeds, too! Oops.) We spray Neem, insecticidal soap, and fungicide; we share pest management with other species, buying ladybugs and lacewings. We plant Whack-A-Moles. What’s more, we are not alone in our murderous intentions.

But don’t despair (unless you are a disciple of Jainism). You are ridding your gardens of thugs. (Now if only someone could come take out the voles making holes in the mole trails everywhere I look!) There is a saving grace: For everything you kill in your garden, something else more beneficial or beautiful gets to live and grow. We might yank out the pea vines or the fava bean stalks, but they have left lovely nitrogen for our other plant life. We have to pull up the carrots and beets, and dig the potatoes in order to eat them. Ridding blooms and branches of pests keeps our flowers and trees growing lovely and healthily.

Once again, we see how our gardens are metaphors for our larger lives. If we are carnivorous, we kill for meat. If we are vegetarian, we kill vegetables. If we are pescatarian, we kill fish. We kill to survive and to make our world a more beneficial and beautiful place.




One of my favorite methods of gardening is anti-activity, the practice of disregard. Now, that’s not the same thing as neglect, which would mean not pulling weeds or watering, or any number of small things we do to keep our gardens lovely. Disregard is accepting what it is various plants and bushes decide to do on their own. Letting them be. Watching them insert themselves where they wish to, and not interfering.


We had to remove an infected tree from our hedge, so in the open space we planted a camellia bush and a red-twigged dogwood along the outer edge, scarlet runner beans on their pole trellises in front of those, and flowers in front. Hostas had already been there, and a poppy that came from who knows where. I found some flower seeds from last year and was gifted with some wildflower seeds, so I planted them all. Little sprouts are up now of those, but what has surprised me is that when I checked on this space after a two-week hiatus due to surgery, I found growing amongst the little flowers radishes ready to eat. What??? I don’t know for sure how they got there, and neither does my husband. As near as we can figure, radish seeds somehow were mixed in with the flower seeds. I love radishes and I’m enjoying this example of crunchy happenstance in my salads.


A long-standing disregard based on curiosity involves wild foxglove. I make bets with myself at the end of its season as to where it might decide to grow the following spring. I let the spent blooms lie where they fall so the results of the guessing game will be in my favor. If it’s a windy winter, though, the odds are no longer in my favor. The foxgloves’ decisions can either make for a great surprise in composition, adding height and pinkness to a section of a flowerbed, or disaster if it chooses a space where it looks awkward or it hogs a space where I want something else to be. That problem is easily solved, however, by a yank of prudent removal. The time for that, sadly, is now. Bye-bye foxgloves. See you next year, who knows where?


Almost a decade ago, my friend Liz was overrun by rose campion (Silene coronaria)(also called bloody William—eeuww!) (deer resistant and drought tolerant!) and in a fit she ripped them all out and gifted them to me. They take over, she told me. Oh, gee, thanks, Liz. But you know, they haven’t. She has rich river silt in her soil. I have compacted clay and that has made all the difference. I like how they look, and the greyish-green of their foliage is a nice contrast to their vermillion blooms. Their spread makes a nice drift. And they LOVE to drift! I never know where I’m going to find them from year to year. Only if I look for the little rosettes in the fall do I have any hint of where they will take over. Just because they have grown in one area throughout the summer, there’s no guarantee they’ll be in the same place next year. Their little feet like to roam. I treat them the same way I do with foxgloves. I send them packing if I don’t like where they’ve plunked themselves down. When the blooms are finished, I either stack the stems where I want some plants to be next year, or I cut off the dried blooms full of seeds and plant them the following spring, in an attempt to force them to grow where I please. Sometimes that works and sometimes not. That’s what I call laissez-faire disregard.


Wild daisies can also be unwelcome brigands in a manicured, planned bed, but I let some of them stay if otherwise I’d have an empty space, or if I’m waiting for a late riser to come up. The daisy blooms and dies to ugly stems, and then I remove it and the other plant rises to take its place. Usually, though, I don’t keep them underneath open windows, because they smell like dog wee. Sometimes our open pasture is full of them, and then they are pretty to look at, from a distance. They grow in the soil under trees and bushes, so there’s that in their favor, too, especially if a tree or bush blooms at the same time. Then I get to view a complementary double palette of color.


I’m a fan of happenstance in my garden because it’s like getting a present from Mother Nature. I don’t know what it’s going to be or where and I look forward to the surprise every year.











In the few sunny days we had before another slew of rain slammed down, my sweetheart and I worked out in our various gardens, surrounded by plants and tormented by weeds. We slung away into the “dump it” wheelbarrow the grass that grew anywhere we didn’t want it. I heard the crows broadcasting to each other what we were up to, in case seeds they could purloin later were going to be part of our garden process. Swallows divebombed me because I was working mostly in the herb garden which is in close proximity to their houses, and the bird feeder is located right there. The golden finches, scarlet tanagers, and sparrows must have been salivating in the bushes, starving, because I never saw them.

But I was saving them from death by pruning the evergreen in the middle of the herb garden. I’ve long since forgotten what type it is, if I ever knew. I bought it because it was swirled upward like a Dairy Queen ice cream cone. That lasted only one year because I had no experience sculpting trees. Overestimating my talents, I tried sculpting it myself. The result was sad, indeed. In the ensuing years, I’ve been letting it grow back in hopes it would fill out and look like a real tree. We both tried, the tree and I, but the outcome has been less than we anticipated.

This was the year I had to do SOMETHING. I have noticed all the felines emerging from under the tree with smiles on their faces and feathers in their mouths. The tree provided the perfect hiding place, a little cave next to the trunk up under the bottom branches. There they bided their time until a bird was in the right position, and then, POUNCE!

The first thing I did after my loppers, pruners, and shears visited Mr. Sharpenator, was to sit down on my bucket seat and start eliminating branches, from the bottom up. There were enough feathers in the tree cave to have built a whole nest or two. Thank goodness I was spared seeing birdie skeletons! I raked everything out that had been lodged there. Now for 18 inches up from the ground, all around the tree, is nothing but open space. I like to think the tree likes the air flow now, like when you cut your hair and you feel pounds lighter and can feel the breeze on your neck. The shorn tree can feel the breeze on its trunk.

I stood back and gave it a few more nips and tucks here and there and it looks reasonably the way I envision a tree of its species should look at its age. Its branches aren’t covering up the herbs in the four raised beds around it anymore, so the herbs are happier as well. The lavender doesn’t have to crouch and bend. The oregano doesn’t have to push and shove, then move to new neighborhoods. The herbs can now feel the breeze on their necks as well.

I expect better production from now on. I’ve already clipped and dried the parsley, so the rest of the herbs will have to up their game. The lemon balm and chamomile come next, and the tea leaves need clipped for drying whenever it stops raining long enough. I’ll be making black tea again, with cinnamon, orange peels, and cloves. So yummy! All that’s left to do in the herb garden is to get rid of a bit more uninvited grass, and to plant some herb seeds, both medicinal and cooking herbs, in the beds and pots.

The crows will get excited again seeing me out working, but I will foil their intentions this year, just as I did the felines, with preventative measures–white cloth covers pinned down over the top of the herb seeds I plant–until they are toddlers or maybe even teenagers.

Once the sun comes back in a long stretch, we’ll install the fountain in front of the tree so we can view it from the kitchen window, and the herb garden will be complete, with something beautiful and/or scented blooming there all summer long.