Once, when I was a dewy-eyed twenty-three year-old I told my friend Amy that I wanted to live on a homestead with a geodesic dome and se...

The arugula has already bolted. We spent the weekend making homes for tomatoes. Digging nice, deep holes, spaced a bit too close, and s...

The arugula was the only thing I had sown this year from my own seed: a child of last year's arugula. I had allowed the plant, past ...

Now that I am gardening again, it seems to me that all of the collected wisdom of human existence can be rediscovered in this process of...

I have already shown you  the faux stone duck eggs I dyed for Easter , and your well-feigned enthusiasm toward these has inspired me to s...

Right now it is spring break for me. Day seven of my ten days off of work. (This is one of the major benefits of working in education.) H...

This morning finds the world covered in wet snow as heavy as the hand of fate. Trees bow under its mass, reaching down into the duck yard...

Poem is the theme. I could wax poetic for the entire NaBloPoMo month of April , on gardening. I am a total, unapologetic idiot about ...

Photo Credit: Flickr by Vanessa Vancour   I have been very productive today. The sun is out, my yard seems ablaze with the possibility ...