Brittle like parchment, the arctic air sliced through the landscape with little resistance as it slashed and gnawed at flesh like a hungry, rabid beast.  It was fit for no creature, great nor small.  Experts call it a polar vortex.  We call it Winter….

The Forsythia’s arching branches of rich, buttery blooms adorned the early Spring landscape, which, for the most part, still seemed to be outfitted in Winter’s olive drab garb.  Here and there, Crocus sprinkled the lawn with delicate clusters of gold and lavender, while the Daffodils and Tulips seemed resolute…

  Whisper sweetly your secrets upon the breeze as you sway to and fro. A generation awaits your seeds in the soil that you sow. Oceans of grasses and native blooms grace these middle lands. Here rises the fertile prairie amongst the Oak and Hickory…

    Writhing and skulking beneath the ground, nature’s twisted spine heaved forth the soil, leaving cracks and fissures in its wake.  The disturbed earth seemed at once alarmed yet relieved.  Its needs communicated by the subterranean undulations.  Water.    …

I like the idea of “native” plants and landscapes and absolutely love wildflowers; however, native doesn’t always mean easier, insect free or even desirable.   In fact, there are some widely held misconceptions that I’d like to dispel and some rules…

Maybe it’s just me, but I don’t get the warm fuzzies when I see the word “Organic” slapped across a bag of apples.  In fact, I’ve become leery of the word and tend to avoid it at all costs, and…