Seasonal Notes is the metronome. The tick of time as it moves through frost, sap, blossom, and decay. These are the gardener’s footnotes: what stirred, what sighed, what demanded the spade. Here, spring is a verb and November a long inhalation.
We regret to inform readers that Barry’s initial performance was, by his own admission, a little underwhelming. The connection hose—thin, brittle, barely up to the task — was cruelly split by a jubilee clip in what can only be described as a tragic act of early optimism. Emergency measures were taken: twine was applied, muttered apologies exchanged, dignity somewhat preserved.
Continue reading “FIXING A WATER BUTT HOSE: THE TALE OF BARRY, TWINE, AND TRIUMPH”
Every single year.
You’re minding your own business, nursing your garden back to life after winter, when someone posts a photo of their roses—in full, brazen bloom—and there you are, standing in the drizzle, staring at a thorny twig and wondering if you’ve somehow offended the gods.
THE CULTIVATED STAGE 