Hello fellow readers, Seeing the Forest through the Blue Trees by Konstantin Dimopoulos set the pace for the lecture series at the recent Woody Plant Conference held at The Scott Arboretum in Swarthmore, PA. Kon, born in Egypt to Greek parents, began his creation of brilliant blue tre
Hello fellow readers, The Pennsylvania Horticultural Society (PHS) hosted a tour of two private gardens in Northwestern, NJ, and I had the joy of attending. A visit, if you will, with the two best gardeners of the garden state I have the privilege of knowing. While I frequently savor
Hello, fellow lovers of all things green. From time to time, over the years, I’ve shared stories of my dear Mom, who gave me my garden start, and many of you have kindly asked about her. Emma Stone joined the angels last Sunday, and while there’s sadness, there’s re
“It wants to fly,” explained Jonathan Taylor as we were taking off. I shivering inside surely due to the below freezing temps (not). Jon, I called him then, is long ago friend from my NYC radio days at Kiss-FM. Last Saturday he visited by way of plane. During breakfast at the R
Hello Fellow Readers, The Press gives their staff a week off during the holidays, so I thought I’d post a behind-the-scenes of next week’s story and the lessons gained from Henricus Historical Park. While traveling with Curt and our canine kid Miss Ellie to visit Mom in a nursing home
Hello Fellow Readers, Thanks to all of you our Garden Dilemma chats have run for 239 weeks and counting! We shared a range of topics this last year from the most recent ones – the history of poinsettias known as the Flowers of the Holy Night and the Magnitude of Promise of 5,000
Hello Fellow Readers, There’s a country song by Pat Alger and Ralph Murphy, sung by Kathy Mattea that I adore. The chorus of Seeds speaks volumes starting with “We’re all just seeds in God’s hands. We start the same, but where we land is sometimes fertile soil
Hello Fellow Readers, Fall is for gathering in the coziness of the season. I recently had the joy of visiting my piano teacher from way back. She’s now a grand 89 years wise. I’m not sure how long ago she became “Mom J” (J for Jackson), but I have fond memories
Hello fellow readers, Once again, I write from Virginia and admit I’m weary. Witnessing a loved one suffer is heartbreaking; Mom’s most enormous suffering is from fear. When I arrived Saturday, her deep cough and spiked fever seemed inevitable. To soothe her, I began readi