gardengrow

Most of us at one time or another have had to deal with the vexing problem of middle-age spread.

After reading my article on Knockout rose, a reader emailed me the following: I do not love Knock Out rose. I love my hybrid teas. I love to arrange flowers.

In 2000, a landmark rose appeared suddenly in nurseries, beginning its rise to become the best-selling rose of all time.

The other day I brought along a garden catalog to while away the time spent waiting in a doctor’s office.

This month my favorite plants are a combination of those saying goodnight before settling down for a long sleep and those that have reawakened with a bang.

The longer I garden, the less I know about plants—it really is that simple.

I’m a curmudgeon when it comes to hellebores. Their non-stop promiscuity is tiresome.

As a woman of a certain age, I’m finding it difficult to be with it or as the French would say, au courant.

March is a fabulous month in the South whereas it’s cold, gray, and dreary in northern climes.

Nature has a way of confounding me at times.

One of the most overlooked attributes in the garden is the leaf.

One of the main motives to move to Chapel Hill is that it’s a splendid place to raise and nourish … camellias.

It’s hard to have a sense of humor about poison ivy.

Spring is in the offing, but we cannot say goodbye to winter yet.

Perennial gardeners fall into several separate categories: (1) Many are probably thinking about spring, and (2) those who know enough to plan ahead.

Every morning I send a photo email out to three friends.

Inevitably new gardeners ask me, “Why does the horticultural world insist upon inflicting ersatz Latin names upon us?”

I go through this monthly exercise for several reasons. In the first place, it teaches me to look at the garden differently each month.

About five years ago, bedbugs were a hot topic.

“Do your research.” How often have I written that? Research the plants you want to buy, research your site, research your soil.

It sounds so simple: Plant the right plant in the right space.

Why, I sometimes ask myself, do I garden?

A pair of my beloved roses has decided to leave my garden—and I’m in mourning.

I don’t have a shy bone in my body—until it comes to vines.

Gardens have histories, ones that are often overlooked.

The most expensive purchase of a plant to go into my garden was a Japanese maple over ten years ago.

A reader recently emailed me, saying “I live with five wooded acres between me and the Chapel Hill Public Library where multiple deer live.

Every month I find it’s useful to list my favorite plants of the moment.

Recently there has been a spate of articles describing the joys of growing garlic.

Tesla almost defeated me.

This is the time of year I begin muttering that the crapemyrtle is the most abused tree in the Triangle—

I’m not a vegetable gardener—let me make that clear.

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.