Nitty Gritty Dirt Man

How Bagpipes Changed My Life

/ Kevin / 49 Comments

Bagpipes

March is an interesting time for gardeners.  It’s the month when the first warm breezes begin to melt winter’s icy grip, when the garden begins to stir, when hints of green suddenly appear, when it’s time to get outside and get things ready for the gift that is spring.

At least that’s how my March used to be until about five years ago, when my March literally became MARCH — as in parade.  I’m a bagpiper and March is piping season, with each weekend devoted to at least two to three St. Patrick’s Day parades — making this St. Patrick’s Month.

But as the first of the parades gets underway, March is also the time that I reflect on how I came to be a piper and how thankful I am that bagpipes entered my life.  This post is that story.

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Amaryllis Boo-Boo: From Wallflower to Supermodel

/ Kevin / 38 Comments

Amaryllis Triptych

Amaryllis.  With a name like that, I should have known she was destined for stardom — but who could have anticipated any such thing on the Christmas morning that she arrived on my doorstep?

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When Winter White Goes Green

/ Kevin / 37 Comments

IMG_2746

As the February snow melts and re-freezes, taking on the look and sound of carved Styrofoam, Long Island elected officials are scrambling to come up with answers for how municipalities so badly handled snow removal.  There is talk of contracts, lack of direction, an overwhelming amount of snow, and the resignation of one highway supervisor — so much talk, in fact, that it’s all starting to sound like a snow job as historical as the blizzard itself.

If only they had paid more attention to “The Mary Tyler Moore Show.”  There always seemed to be snow falling on the other side of the massive window in Mary’s adorable apartment — you know, the one on the top floor of Phyllis’s house.   I often dreamt that I would like to live in Mary’s apartment — if only to have Rhoda as a friend.

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Walking In A Winter Blunderland

/ Kevin / 41 Comments

The same bench from previous post.

The same bench from previous post.

Yesterday, I was humming Christmas carols.  Today, my lyrics sound more like this:

“There’s got to be a morning after, if we can hold on through the night

We have a chance to find the sunshine; let’s keep on looking for the light.

 Oh, can’t you see the morning after? It’s waiting right outside the storm.

Why don’t we cross the bridge together and find a place that’s safe and warm?”

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Snow Falling On . . . Well . . . Everything!

/ Kevin / 25 Comments

Snow

Snow falling on the bench.

I arrived home from work today, just in time for the opening volley of a February blizzard.  Like a good blogger, I grabbed the camera, ventured out into the 1″ of snow, took some photos,  and hummed a few songs to myself — songs better suited for Christmas.

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Wish I Was There . . . Again (Part 2)

/ Kevin / 43 Comments

Alhambra, Granada

A few posts ago, I shared some garden travel photos that I had found in a box in the attic.  They were from a time when photos were developed on film, the sort of pictures you could touch and flip through to relive the moments caught.

Today, however, I’m doing some digital cleaning.  There may not be any flipping through pictures, but there is clicking through snapshots of vacations gone by.

While I certainly love the hefty feel of an open photo album across my lap, any kind of photo can re-ignite the senses from a captured piece of time.  A picture is worth a thousand words, but so too is a pixel.

Like the photo above, for example, which was taken at the Alhambra in Granada, Spain.  Each time I see this photo, I can imagine trysts and stolen kisses, plots and deceit — all hidden from view by the thick greenery . . .

But I’m jumping ahead.  I wanted to save the Spain photos for the end of this post.

Our first stop, then, is a brief stop in the southern United States.

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The Giveaway Goes To . . .

/ Kevin / 24 Comments

The Backyard Parables

At last, we have arrived at the big reveal — the announcement of the winner of Margaret Roach’s most excellent book, The Backyard Parables.  So without any further delay, the book goes to . . .

Now did you really think I would jump right in with the winner’s name?  Not only am I nitty and gritty, I’m also wordy — and a post just wouldn’t be complete unless I added a few hundred words of my own (as well as a few photos, each one dedicated to a season in my garden in honor of the chapters in Parables).

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Book Review & Giveaway: The Backyard Parables

/ Kevin / 38 Comments

The Backyard Parables

Parable is one of those Old — no, make that Ancient World words.  Just saying it conjures up an image of a toga-ed philosopher sitting on the steps of the Parthenon, eager and inquisitive students kneeling and sitting and catching each one of his words.

That’s kind of how I felt as I read Margaret Roach’s newest book, The Backyard Parables.  Okay, it wasn’t a toga party, but I could certainly imagine gardeners arriving from far and wide to her rural New York State garden — gathering about her as she shares the wit and wisdom of her words.   (Note to self: find out Margaret’s Open Garden Day schedule.)

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Margaret & Me & A Cup Of Tea

/ Kevin / 37 Comments

Margaret Roach Garden

Margaret Roach.  For years it was just a name, one that I had seen in the masthead or the editorial pages of Martha Stewart Living.  Occasionally, it appeared at the bottom of the television as I watched Martha’s show, an identifier of the woman sitting next to the host.

Yes, Margaret Roach was just a name.

When I started this blog, I also learned of the top gardening blog in America, A Way to Garden — and once again, I was staring at that same name: Margaret Roach.  Maybe, I thought, there was a reason her name kept entering my world — and maybe, it was time to discover if there was more to Margaret than a name.

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Margaret Roach: My New BFF (If Only In My Mind)

/ Kevin / 42 Comments

Desk

When I was in high school and sitting in math class, I noticed that someone who had class in the same room during another period — most likely a girl because of the large rounded, bubbly print — had written two letters on the desk: Hi.  So I wrote back — and soon, our shared desktop was covered with a conversation.  Then, one day, she wrote her name: Kim.

My friends, adolescent testosterone and nerd-ness surging through their bodies, were jealous and full of fantastical ideas.  “What do you mean you don’t know who Kim is?” one of them asked — and he then proceeded to fill me in on the deeds, the actions, the beauty, and the popularity of the notorious Kim.

At the end of the school year, as I was unpacking my locker, Kim passed by and I said, “Um, Kim?  Hi.  I’m Kevin, the guy from the desk in math class.”

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