I still think of November as a barren time, a month of jackets and the hiss of dry leaves skittering across…

My mom used to send underperforming houseplants to the cellar to die.  Occasionally one came back from that purgatory, but…

There was frost last night, and so the time had come for the cardoons to come down.   After their…

One head of garlic, from One Straw Farm in Baltimore, via my CSA at Gorman Farm, to turn into eight…

I have long desired to grow currants.  Not because of any virtue of the fruits, that I know of first…

My garden ideal is partly formed by my infatuation with Victorian chick lit and a couple of trips to Italy…

On Saturday, at about 10:30am, pirates overran the garden.  They pilaged, drank grog, and swashbuckled in celebration of Noah’s fourth…

This, dear readers, is a cardoon.  It is, they tell me, edible, although I have never tried one.  I bought…

Otis, dearest of dogs, darling slobbery galumphing beast.  There are a few things that are incompatible with gardening, I think:…