Every gardener worth their salt has come across a plant they simply cannot grow.
While talking to an acquaintance the other day, a good friend commented on the attractiveness of a particular plant in her neighborhood.
I love the change of seasons—it’s really that simple.
It’s become fashionable to downplay grass in the garden–and I am the first one to admit that grass has a ridiculous side to it.
A long time ago I became aware that I was a garden hypocrite, something that’s not easy to admit.
Every month I make a list of the plants I’m enjoying in the garden.
Whenever anyone asks me how to proceed with designing a garden, I hasten to inform them that I’m not a garden designer, just someone with rather strong opinions.
When I first moved to Chapel Hill in 1992, JC Raulston ruled the local horticultural world.
Quick: Can you name the one plant we have in our garden that may have come from our coldest state, Alaska? If you guessed the peony, you are correct.
Food and fashion pornographies are barely tolerable but I put my foot down when it comes to viewing the garden pornography displayed in magazines.
It began as an impulse buy.
I have two dogs, one named Patience and the other Prudence.
Once I had set my mind to planting sustainable roses throughout the garden, I had no idea where to begin.
Of course, it was all the fault of the Empress Joséphine, the ex-wife of Napoleon.
Throughout my gardening career, I have always periodically asked myself one important question: Why do I garden?
There has long been a TV advertisement that makes me want to scream.
My Daphnes, alas, did what all Daphnes want to do: They died.
In 1992 when I moved to the Triangle, knowing little about gardening, I quickly picked up on the fact that the color magenta in the garden was verboten.
It all began when my writing partner for The Absentee Gardeners, Lise Jenkins, gave me a package of rice.
Thirty years ago, I began my long love affair with camellias.
Spring might be just around the corner but we still have some cold weather ahead of us. What is a gardener to do?
About 10 years ago, a sudden yearning for some palm trees appeared out of the blue, hitting me hard.
Hydrangeas are confusing creatures.
The longer I garden, the more I realize how much gardening knowledge I lack.
Vines can be both overwhelming and scary. When I first moved to Chapel Hill in 1992, my front yard consisted of English ivy, my backyard nourished Japanese wisteria, while my side yard contained Chinese honeysuckle.
I love hostas. Because I erected a fence around my property, I am able to grow this ultimate deer candy.
Why am I talking about container gardening in the middle of winter?
Some years I have a vast accumulation of acorns and yet other years I have a dearth of them.
Sooner or later, all garden writers end up writing about mulch – and I am no exception.
When I didn’t know any better, I planted three dahlias of uncertain parentage – and they managed to return year after year.
If in the middle of July, you find yourself wondering why you ever chose to live in gardening zone 7, just ponder the camellia.
As I write this, the weather is turning chilly (finally!) – it’s close to that time when we have to part with the annuals in our garden.
Patience, alas, is a virtue I lack. In fact, I named one of my beloved dogs “Patience” in an effort to acquire this asset.
As a gardener, I love the change of seasons. While I have friends who dread the fall as they fear the winter that follows, I love almost everything that autumn has to offer.