Nitty Gritty Dirt Man

Scenes From A Sunday Afternoon

/ Kevin / 16 Comments

Grackles

It’s been a week since a flock of grackles descended in the trees around my home and unleashed a hailstorm of acorns.  I have since learned that acorns are one of the species’ culinary favorites, especially as the iridescent birds begin their migration south.

That being said, they aren’t very neat or efficient eaters.  In fact, I don’t think the ’80s band A Flock of Seagulls could have caused this much of a mess in their hotel room, not even during the height of their popularity.

Seven days since their arrival — that’s seven days filled with more grackles, squirrels, and wind — the driveway and path looked as if they were the end-result of some slapstick comedy routine — you know, the one where an innocent passerby (me, for example) slips on some casually placed marbles (or acorns, as the case may be), so that the prankster (or grackle) can have a few laughs.

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Victor Victorian: Garden Style Fit For A Queen

/ Kevin / 30 Comments

At this time of year, as the garden tumbles into autumn colors in preparation for its winter sleep, it’s difficult to not search out garden photos — whether of my own garden, the gardens of other bloggers, or especially gardens of the past.

It’s in those old photos, the kind that give a peek into a moment in time, that the questions start to swirl.  What plants did they select and why?  Where was the best spot to view the garden?  What were the scents and aromas?  The sounds?  Who tended the beds?  What tools did they use?

The Victorian Garden

Enter The Victorian Garden (Shire Publications), a fact-filled and image-rich book by Caroline Ikin.  Beautifully crafted, the book not only offers a clear explanation of Victorian garden style and history, it also celebrates the Victorian gardeners and their innovations — accomplished through Ikin’s skill at bringing readers along as she steps through the garden gate.

Recently, I had the chance to ask Caroline Ikin about her book, the Victorians, and life in her own garden.

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Summertime Sadness & Wonder

/ Kevin / 20 Comments

The hydrangea blooms are fading away.

Hydrangea blooms fading away.

I stepped outside this morning and I could see my breath.  Clearly, summer left the building — or at the very least, it left the garden.  Almost immediately, I began singing Lana Del Rey’s smash, “Summertime Sadness” — or, rather, just the chorus: “I’ve got that summertime, summertime sadness, oh-oh-oh-oh-oh.”

I’ve actually been a little melancholy over the past few days.  Maybe it was the 9/11 anniversary.  Maybe it’s the start of another school year.  And maybe it does have to do with the change in weather.  While the cooler weather signals the time to clean and store terra cotta pots, elephant ears, and canna — as well as myself — for the winter months, there is something else on my mind.

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Facing 9/11 For The First Time

/ Kevin / 24 Comments

This post features photos of the Suffolk County, Long Island, 9/11 Memorial, which honors the 178 County residents who perished on a crystal clear September morning.  I recently visited the Memorial for the first time, morning dew coating each pane of glass, which is etched with the name of a resident and an emblem.  The glass panes form a room of sorts, with manicured landscaping on the outside and an inaccessible garden of native plants on the inside.  The inner garden is designed to grow untamed, symbolizing the passage of time.

Less than five minutes away from this Memorial is the new one, which is the basis for this post.

Suffolk County 9/11 Memorial

In the New York metropolitan area, 9/11 never really goes away.  It’s always present.  Throughout the year, the news media provides updates on the construction of the Freedom Tower and the deaths of rescue workers who were exposed to Ground Zero’s toxic dust in the days following the attack.

And as the anniversary approaches, 12-year-old footage is re-aired as a precursor to all of the memorial services, the largest of which — the one at Ground Zero — is usually broadcast.  In between are the smaller, more localized ceremonies, since so many towns and community organizations have their own 9/11 memorials.  It’s difficult to avoid the emotion of the day.

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Repost: A Labor Of Love — Lost

/ Kevin / 17 Comments

Black-Eyed Susan

In honor of the holiday weekend, here is a post that first appeared one year ago.  The photos still haunt me.  I recently returned to the nursery-that-was, and not much has changed.  Yes, the weeds have been mown and the random pots removed, but the structures remain (albeit a little more dilapidated).  There are also a couple of flatbed trailers parked on the lot, but the abandoned nursery remains, a testament to the loss of small, local, neighborhood nurseries and small businesses that can’t keep up with the onslaught of retail and box store chains, rising rents, and a lifeless economy.  

On this Labor Day, please visit a local nursery — and if you would like to open your own, I know a place that’s available.

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To Be A Bee, Or Not To Be A Bee

/ Kevin / 25 Comments

Bee Mimic

Yes, that is the question – and it’s a question I didn’t even knew I had until a recent Monday night Twitter conversation.

A few times over the summer, I’ve participated in The Garden Chat, a group of gardeners who “meet” in the Twitterverse to discuss gardening, ask gardening questions, share garden photos — it’s kind of like an old-fashioned neighborly talk over the fence, only the fence is really, really big.

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Light In August

/ Kevin / 28 Comments

Sycamore.

Sycamores are the first to surrender their leaves to the subtle changes in daylight.

“Some days in late August are like this, the air thin and eager like this,

with something in it sad and nostalgic and familiar . . .”

— William Faulkner, The Sound and the Fury

Faulkner almost had it right.

While August is the saddest month in the calendar, it’s also, I think, the most perplexing.

It seems as if August just doesn’t know which season it wants to be part of: summer or autumn.  The weather is still warm and humid, but each day grows shorter, second by second.  Leaves that were once fresh and green are now dull and drab.

Added into my August angst equation is my non-blogging life.  I work in a school, and in a little more than a week, classes will resume.  It’s as if August is the gate for my flight into September, and I’m too afraid to leave the area for fear that I might miss the boarding call.

And so I find myself plotting the demise of August while squeezing — choking — all I can out of the last bits of summer.  Surely, August must have some redeeming quality.

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The Real Dirt On The Presidents — Part 2

/ Kevin / 27 Comments

presidential_podium 2

Some conversations are too big to fit into a single post.  That’s how it was when I communicated with Linda Holden Hoyt, author of the very fascinating Presidents’ Gardens.  Just like the book, the interview was filled with anecdotes and historical tidbits, as well as Ms. Hoyt’s warm recollections of her experience in the White House gardens.  

The author during the Reagan Administration. Photo courtesy of Linda Holden Hoyt.

The author during the Reagan years.
Photo courtesy of Linda Holden Hoyt.

NGDM:  What was your role in the Reagan administration?

LHH:  I worked on President Reagan’s staff and had an office in the West Wing, so I enjoyed a beautiful view of the ever-changing White House grounds and I pinched myself in the morning when I walked through the gates on the way to work and again in the evening when I left for home.

NGDM:  When you were a young girl visiting Presidential gardens, did you ever dream that someday you would be working in the White House?

LHH:  No, but as a child I spent a lot of time cutting and pasting pictures of the White House and the presidents into a scrapbook.  I’d flip through magazines like Life and Calling All Girls, collected from my grandmother and piano teacher.  When visiting the White House, I remember wanting to run up the stairs to see what was up there!  In my teen years, I read Backstairs at the White House, Upstairs at the White House and anything like it I could get my hands on.   History is really important to me — especially the “story” part — I love the stories of the people who impacted history.

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The Real Dirt On The Presidents — Part 1

/ Kevin / 27 Comments

presidential_podium 2

The next presidential election is still years away — and wannabe candidates, strategists, pundits, and newscasters are already weighing in on who will run, what the issues are, and how Americans will vote.

Lately, though, I find myself less concerned with taxes, Obamacare, and the economy and more curious about how the future POTUS will put his — or her — stamp on the White House gardens — and that’s all because of an amazing book, Presidents’ Gardens, by Linda Holden Hoyt.

Utilizing her passion for gardening and history, as well as her experience in the Reagan White House, Ms. Hoyt has delivered a book that is educational, fascinating, and entertaining.  Well researched and filled with photos, illustrations, and anecdotes, her work opens the garden gate on a world most of us will otherwise never have had the chance to enter.

Recently, Ms. Hoyt kindly agreed to answer the questions of a very excited gardener and history buff.  It seemed that with each response, I had more questions — resulting in a post so long that it needed two parts.  Part 2 will appear on Monday — and that’s also when the rules of the giveaway will be revealed.

And so, without further delay, I’d like to introduce you to Linda Holden Hoyt.

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The House That Joe Built

/ Kevin / 94 Comments

Potting Shed

Over the past few months, I have been inundated with emails about my potting shed.  Most people want to know where they could purchase the same kit.  When I explain that the shed is Joe’s original design, they want specifics.

So with a lot of help from Joe, here is a post that has been a long time coming.  Additional photos and information can be found in “The Potting Shed” tab above.

Before there was a potting shed, there was me — on a mission to start seeds in advance of the planting season, and Joe — on a mission to reclaim the kitchen and dining room from trays and flats of new sprouts.  Surveying my long and leggy seedlings, I said, “If I had a potting shed, I’d be dangerous.”

Little did I know that that sentence, a seed traveling on waves of sound, would eventually settle into one of the folds of Joe’s brain, taking root and springing into action.

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