Vineyard Gardener
My three least favorite words that precede a sentence are “As one ages...”
It is beyond me why I bother to write anything down. My brain must go out the end of the pen.
Once the thunderstorm started on Tuesday evening, I was happier. Rain always pleases me in any form. The earth can use a drink.
It’s come to this, I’ve been crazy busy this past week what with all the summer arrivals.
I am great at telling others what to do, it’s doing it myself that is a problem. In other words, take my advice — I am not using it.
I’m a Yankee, through and through! Last Tuesday’s rain and chill suited me just fine.
I was all set to complain about the weather this week—extremely dry with my least favorite—ill winds!
I do not know my caterpillars nor do I wish to! I have the disgusting tiny ones hanging by threads from all my apple trees.
I wish I had a couple of bucks for every time I complained about the lack of rain. So much for April showers.
How can a long, hard winter and a late spring turn a couple of nice days into full-on garden madness? I got behind practically the day I started.
Where does a garden columnist start? There is so much emerging life all around. I think May has been called high spring. It is impossible to keep up...
When it comes to birds, what I don’t know is a lot. I keep promising myself that I will take up bird watching when I’m old.
