In spring, I rip you out of the ground, but your roots, they hide like Paris sewage rats only to emerge when the earth is hard for pulling. You resemble a boyfriend I once had, handsome in his big dance finery tentacled roots later on that long night. Like him, you bloom for a time Autumn's lilac luster. Charmed, I let you stay another day.

One of gardening's great blessings is the peace it affords the gardener. When problems weigh upon me like an anvil, I open the French doors and walk outside. My shoes step onto the path with a satisfying crunch, and after a few moments of wandering here and there; deadheading a salvia or a rose with a snap; spreading spent Zinnia seeds; or pulling a weed, my worries dissipate. My mind settles, and there is a stillness to my thoughts. It is this same stillness which frees writers to write, and painters to paint. Gardeners can visualize the next pathway, planting bed or where a particular plant should go. All of us, in our own fashion, are artists. We are each painting the canvasses of our lives. We, and our children, need a time of peace and quiet for our minds to quit spinning. It is only in the stillness that...

Bumblebee on Gaillardia in the fall garden. There's a frenetic energy in the garden now. When I open the gate, the air is abuzz. With their voracious appetites, caterpillars munch to attain maximum girth before pupating. Adult Monarchs gather strength before continuing on their journey to Mexico. Where only weeks ago, the bees, wasps, hummingbird moths and butterflies moved methodically around the flowers, they now hurry and seem harassed. Do they know the days are already shorter? Is there a hormonal signal switching on and telling them there's only a little more time? The flowers, too, seem aware. With the rain and slightly cooler weather, they are reinforcing their blooming efforts. The annuals are almost crazy with new blooms. "Set seed before you die," they seem to say. I, however, am slowing down. The urgency of spring is past. The heat of summer is waning, and I'm just enjoying the...

Orignally published in the Spring 2008 OHS Horticulture Horizons newsletter. As avid gardeners, we search out the newest and best each spring, and we are tantalized by those plants with large advertising budgets: the "new and improved" hybrids, some of which do great here; others, quickly die. For example: does anyone remember Coreopsis 'Limerock Ruby?'  In my garden, it was beautiful throughout spring, but when summer's heat hit, like a tumbleweed, 'Limerock Ruby' shriveled up and blew away. This spring I converted four, large beds from mostly vegetables over to perennials and shrubs. Because of this, I became more aware of those plants I rely upon as backbones of my garden. These are the plants I reach for and divide every time I need something for a new space. Assured that they will perform, I place them first and then surround them with their highly touted, but possibly less hardy...