ENOUGH ABOUT ME…well, maybe one last thing. And then I will put a sock in it for awhile (maybe). A young blogger who was among those to inspire me to start on this path honored me yesterday with a profile. It has the bits The Times didn’t tell you, and since I seem to be outing myself with full force this week, why not show you this one, too?
remember, nothing lasts (part 2)

REMEMBER, NOTHING LASTS. I have mentioned this before, and probably will not shut up about it anytime soon (unless forces bigger than me silence me for good). Taking my instruction from the tradition of Cherry Blossom Festival in Japan, a reverence for the ephemeral nature of things, I mark each major passing in the garden, each fallen hero, and not just each arriving bloom. Recently it was the giant rhodie out back who said farewell for at least another year. To make its point, it drops its lavender flowers in the garden pool beneath, creating a serendipitous color play with the midribs of the Japanese painted ferns at the water’s edge. Nothing lasts, which makes it all the more precious, no?
the welcome mat is out
WE’VE GOT THE WELCOME MAT OUT this week at A Way to Garden and our Urgent Garden Question Forums next door, and everybody in the family here is doing his or her part. Even a species of frog I’ve never seen before, which I take as a good omen. An even better omen: Anne Raver’s generous piece in The New York Times today. Bet you want to read the back story on this one.
martagons: what’s not to love?
TA-DA! That’s what I hear when I see the vivid red martagon lily named ‘Claude Shride’ open up his blossoms in June and throw back his tepals (the technical word for what in lilies look like petals). Ta-da! We’re in a very “ta-da!” mood here this week at A Way to Garden, so it seemed perfect that he decided to open as if on cue. Want to know more about my beautiful boy?
oh you hairy beast, you
will the real oregano please stand up?
I WANTED TO PLANT OREGANO some years ago, as I expect many gardeners do, for a fresh supply to cook with. That may sound like a simple desire, though fulfilling it was anything but. The plant marked as “Oregano” at the garden center grew lush with little care, a low, green mound with a pleasant aroma if touched. But come harvest time, the oregano leaves tasted like peppery dirt, if that good, and the plant had spread in every direction I did not intend for it. Not exactly what I had in mind for a seasoning with my homegrown tomatoes, or a good garden subject. Was it poor (or too-rich) soil? The wrong location? Improper care? No: Wrong plant.













