After a long winter, the garden begins to heal—revealing both damage and resilience. In this reflective post, I share spring pruning tips, plant care insights, and lessons from nature, reminding us to slow down, notice beauty, and find healing in the garden and in life.

As winter loosens its grip, early spring invites us to tend—clearing what’s too heavy, redistributing what can nourish, and making space for what’s ready to grow.

A roadside walk after winter’s thaw reveals more than litter—it uncovers quiet lessons in tending what doesn’t belong and noticing what begins to bloom. From snowdrops to a snapping turtle, nature reminds us that even after disruption, growth returns.

A quiet walk in the rainy late-winter woods becomes a meditation on healing, March folklore, and the promise that storms eventually give way to new growth.

Hello, fellow lovers of all things green. As we begin a new year, we tend to reflect on what no longer serves us and set intentions that grow in their own time. I’m writing this on a cold winter morning, shortly after a quick cross-country ski around the property. A light dusting of s

Hello, fellow lovers of all things green. Decorating with What Remains I mentioned a few weeks ago that I was on a scavenger hunt to decorate window boxes and pots. Well, the holly branches chewed off Ellie’s memorial holly dried out amazingly fast, likely due to the buck’

Hello fellow of all things green, Last week, I shared about the buck rub on Ellie’s memorial holly (link below) and how branches ended up strewn along the base of the tree. While rubbing, deer often chew on lower branches, then paw at the soil and urinate to mark their territory. I sa

Hello, fellow lovers of all things green, You may remember the story of the replacement tree planted in memory of Miss Ellie Mae, my rescue before Jolee. The first tree, a ‘Baby Blue Eyes’ Blue Spruce, didn’t survive. Its roots were severely cut and crisscrossed—what’s known in the tr

Hello, fellow lovers of all things green. I harvested the last of my vegetables from the garden—late by most standards. But tucked into that final harvest were unexpected reminders of the resilience of a No-Till garden and the quiet wisdom that arrives when we let Nature lead. Ripenin

Hello, fellow lovers of all things green, Last week, I shared the sad news that the Karen Ann Quinlan Home for Hospice in Fredon, NJ, will close on November 14, 2025. As you can imagine, my final visits as a volunteer come with a swirl of emotions. On Friday, while chatting with the a