Native/Invasive

Climate is what we expect, weather is what we get.

Speaking of extreme environments, garden-making in Greenland is said by gardeners there to require tamaviaartumik, Greenlandic for passion, ambition, and commitment.

One of the things childhood is is a process of learning about the various paths that lead out of nature and into culture, and the garden contains many of these.

Gardeners always delight in doing something that another gardener says can't be done.

Aren't our gardens assembled fragments of our dreams and daydreams, our memories, images, and visions, remembrances of times past, fantasies, pieces of paradise we try to re-create?

If winter is slumber and spring is birth, and summer is life, then autumn rounds out to be reflection. It's a time of year when the leaves are down and the harvest is in and the perennials are gone. Mother Earth just closed up the drapes on another year and it's time to reflect on what's come before.

A hundred objective measurements didn't sum the worth of a garden; only the delight of its users did that. Only the use made it mean something.

There’s one good thing about snow, it makes your lawn look as nice as your neighbor’s.

All of longtime gardeners are guilty of experiencing our own irrational, unprovable revelations about what works in the garden.

Artichokes are no fools.

The first day of spring is one thing, and the first spring day is another. The difference between them is sometimes as great as a month.

You always carry the memory of your garden in your heart. No matter where on earth you are . . . some mysterious tie will always bind you to your very own patch of soil.

A hundred objective measurements didn't sum the worth of a garden; only the delight of its users did that. Only the use made it mean something.