Dear Carol and Mary Ann and all of our gardening friends, I planned to have this letter up before now, but my Internet went down sometime last night. Now, it appears to be again working.  Who knows? I didn't plant any other veggie seeds this weekend, but instead, cleaned up and cleared out the garden to make room for them.  I cut back several roses, and my arms bear witness to their scratches.  I still have quite a few roses to prune, but it won't take long now. HH broke ground on the potager.  He worked both Saturday and Sunday digging the sub-base, which we will cover with landscape fabric to discourage the Bermuda grass.  We will also line the beds with landscape fabric for this same purpose.  Carol asked how high the walls of the beds will be.  I haven't decided, but they will be high enough for me...

Both hurt. This afternoon, I untangled the wreck between Rosa 'The Fairy' and R. 'Carefree Delight' (a thornier beast never grew), and I was stabbed on my arms, head and backside.  Note:  Friends keep giving me rose gloves, but I find them clunkier than regular gloves, and they make my arms sweat.  Besides, they don't don't solve the sticky head or backside problems.  I'm thinking full body armor? While I worked, I pondered how pruning roses is a lot like raising teenagers.  I'm on numbers two and three in the children category if you wondered. First, let's back up a bit.  Like a new parent, you plant your tiny roses in the garden.  You give them good things to eat like bone meal, manure and leaf mold.  For those first couple of years you prune them lightly and water, waiting for them to grow.  With a guiding hand, you protect...

Today was the day. The wind was calm, and the sun shined down upon my quest.  My first rose in the back garden, 'Cl. Old Blush', but affectionately known around here as the Dowager Duchess, groaned under the weight of the evil autumn clematis. DD was just beginning to break dormancy, as she is always the first and last rose to bloom, but, twelve feet up in the sky, I could see her straining beneath the autumn clematis's dead blooms. Do you ever regret planting something in your garden? I mean, at the time, it seemed like a good idea, but after a couple of seasons, you realize you've let loose a monster in your midst? For me, autumn clematis is one of these.  It came here as a small and innocent looking plant, but those ivory blooms belied a terrible, secret desire for world domination.  After the first season,...

Does anyone remember the series of letters Carol from May Dreams Gardens and Mary Ann from Gardens of the Wild, Wild West and I wrote to each other last summer profiling our vegetable gardens?  We enjoyed our comparisons, and hope you did too, because we're doing it again this year.  If you like, feel free to do something similar with your friends like plant the same variety of a particular vegetable or flower and compare notes.  Think of it as a weekly "Dear Friend and Gardener" meme. Dear Carol and Mary Ann and Gardening Friends Everywhere, I sit in my cozy kitchen/office typing as I watch the sun rise in all its golden glory.  Yesterday, the north wind wasn't too biting, so I got outside for the second time this year.  For me, and many other gardeners across the U.S., winter has stayed way past its welcome.  I can't wait...