As a gardener, I’ll admit to harboring ill will toward some of the plants that crop up in the flower beds I’m tending. There is only so much shot weed you can pull without also wanting to pull out your own hair.
Just because your hostas are starting to look about as attractive as cattle silage, don’t despair. Their roots will do just fine in our northern winters, and they’ll come back bigger and better than ever in the spring.
If you favor certain plants because of their fragrance, you’re not alone. There are billions and billions of little pollinators in the world who agree with you.
Some garden jobs can wait, but other tasks done now can mean less stress in the spring.
It’s hard to say no to something that, on the surface, looks like such a sweet deal.
Your friend offers you a car load of “extra” plants and you jump at it. The local gardening group has pots and pots of something that looks intriguing that are going for a song. What’s better than free or almost free, right?
Every year it seems a different plant will come into its own and shine a little brighter in the garden.
When we first moved into our house 17 years ago, I could lie in bed on the second floor, look out my window and count the stars.
I spent a recent Saturday volunteering as a docent at one of the five beautiful gardens on the annual Whidbey Island Garden Tour.
This Northwest native is finally creeped out by creepy crawlies.
For me, nothing is more emblematic of a Northwest garden than the rhododendron.
Well, except for maybe stinging nettles and Himalayan blackberries. But for now, let’s put those two out of our minds and think only happy thoughts, shall we?
Just when you thought it was safe to sit under the fruit trees, tent caterpillars have been spotted on the island and they’re getting ready to chomp, chomp, chomp their way through your orchards and landscaping.
There are few things sadder for a gardener than a plant that falls short of its potential. Sometimes it’s because it was put in the wrong spot. Other times, it’s because of neglect. And sometimes it’s a double whammy of poor placement and just letting it run wild.
There are two types of people in the world.
The first type whisks the dirty Thanksgiving dishes away to be scrubbed and stacked before the gravy has a chance to congeal on the plates. The second type leaves the cleanup ‘til morning, believing a heinous job is better tackled with a cup of strong coffee and a good night’s sleep — especially when it comes to desiccated turkey carcasses and marshmallow-encrusted yams.
