Nothing crisps the heart of a gardener with greater fury than a low shadowed, endless winter afternoon, windless, throbbingly cold and soundless, lonelier than the end of love....
If only Barnsley were an autumn molter, I might prognosticate the coming winter by the length and luxury of his incoming coat, but he doesn’t shed and gets a clipping every four...
With the last of the bulbs in the ground and garlic, too, digging is over for the year and I do already miss it: Digging is what the garden is all about. Holes large and small are...
Like all woes, clouds eventually part, go elsewhere, dissolve, evaporate, dry up, and reform somewhere far away, and the first signs of such doings are in slits of blue sky:...
Putting the garden to bed is the major activity of the late-autumn garden calendar. Or was. At one time it was the most demanding, the most scrupulous and sensuous of moments. Think...
I suppose all of its legions of fans have their own favorites at Breadzilla in Wainscott. For me it’s the oatmeal sunflower-seed bread, just about the best loaf I’ve ever had....
Out here, the month of October offers two gifts, the one dubious, the other problematic. Around the 23rd of the month we may expect the first killing frost, the black one, 32...
Celia Landsporth Kenedy (“. . . no, no, no . . . no relation . . . one ‘n’ ”), her children launched and all three married and fecund so that Celia was busy...
I once knew a woman who lived in a tree. Or just about. Nearly. The house she inherited was beneath a trophy silver maple, the largest such in the entire state, as a matter of fact...
