Some people are known as “glass half full” folks and some drift towards the “glass half empty” side. Personally, I’m a “Whoops! I’m sorry I just spilled that half glass of red wine all over your white lace tablecloth” kind of guy.
I know that many gardeners look at the coming year with anticipation. By January, the unspeakable, unending string of horticultural tragedies of the previous season have been relegated to the compost pile of history, figuratively and literally. (Or is that just my experience?) They view the world – which is pretty much limited to their patios, backyards and all-season deck chairs – with fresh eyes, convinced that this is the year that the porcelain berry vine that strangled their prize affenpinscher will be vanquished, that the heptacodium tree, which died under mysterious circumstances five years ago and which now resembles a hat rack for squirrels, will finally be removed (if only by a wind storm), and that the drainage issues that had them considering creating a rice paddy by the recycling bin will miraculously be alleviated by a climate-change-induced drought that begins in April and lasts through, oh, 2023.
A gardening story recently caught my attention. At which point, some of you might ask, “Hey, you’re a garden writer.
If you are reading this article, you are probably already aware that monarch butterfly numbers in Illinois are way down.
PRESS RELEASE: The Mike Nowak School of Really Awesome Learning and Stuff (MiNoSoRALaS) announced that in anticipation of the …
"President Jimmy Carter once said that life is not fair. I’m not positive, but I don’t think he coined that phrase. I’m not pos
Need a little inspiration or just a break from weeding? Garden walks abound this time of year, and there’s plenty to see.