Red, White & Bloom — and Gnomes?

/ Kevin / 16 Comments

Gnome“Hi everyone.  It’s me, the Gnitty Gritty Dirt Gnome, giving Kevin a hand with this week’s post.  Before we get into some patriotic petals, I want to remind all of you that there’s still time to get yourself in the running to win two books.  Yup, two books — and both of them are all about gnomes.

“The first is Kevin’s copy of Gnomes, a classic if ever there was one. Lots of imaginative illustrations and stories about the lives and adventures of my peeps.  The other book is Garden Gnomes: A History, by Dr. Twigs Way, and it explains the lore of  we wee folk.

“To read Kevin’s interview with Dr. Way and to leave a comment to be entered into the drawing, please click here and/or here.

“And now, for the red, the white, and the blooms.  You know, if you squint, you can practically see the fireworks.”

“Happy Independence Day!”

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Gnome Sweet Gnome: A Talk With Dr. Twigs Way

/ Kevin / 27 Comments

Gnomes

When I received Gnomes as a gift in 1976, it ignited my imagination.  I not only loved the total appearance and creativity of the work, but Wil Huygen’s words and Rien Poortvliet’s illustrations reached out from the pages and carried me into a secret, fantastical world.

Nearly 40 years later, the book has that same hold on me — and more.  I revisited the book while cleaning out a bookshelf.  Just flipping through the pages brought me back to the wonder I felt as a 13-year-old boy.

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Bloomin’ Update 42: The Green Smile

/ Kevin / 18 Comments

Hydrangea.

Hydrangea.

Green is the color of comfort, at least it is for me.  It’s the color — whether it’s during a mid-winter trip to Florida or those early days of spring or those boiling days of summer — that holds me and comforts me, cradles me and soothes me.  It’s as if green pulls me close and says, “I’m here.  I’ve returned.  I didn’t abandon you.  Just breathe. . .”

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Repost: Here’s One For Dad

/ Kevin / 8 Comments

It’s crunch time at work, and so there hasn’t been much time to write a post that makes any kind of sense.  There was time, however, to visit the archives of this blog and blow the dust off of a Father’s Day post from years ago.  As you fire up the grill and celebrate and honor Dad, I hope you enjoy my gardening with Dad memories.

Happy Fathers DayA few posts ago, I wrote about mowing the lawn and now that it’s Father’s Day, I’d like to revisit it.

My father is the one who taught me how to mow the lawn.  It was an orange, gas-powered model, and my father taught me how to pull the cord, adjust the throttle, pour the gas, and the all-important mowing pattern.  The idea was to mow the perimeter, and then to continue in smaller and smaller circles until  I reached the middle of the yard.  In reality, it was a rite of passage; a passing of the torch.

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“Ladybug, Ladybug, Fly Away Home . . .”

/ Kevin / 21 Comments

Ladybug 2

Traditions.  We love them as much as we love ladybugs.  It’s one of the reasons we bake Christmas cookies.  At any other time of year, they seem out of place — but in December, they fit (and taste) just right.

Right now, traditions are everywhere in my day job, where I am not the Nitty Gritty Dirt Man.  I’m a social worker in a suburban high school, and as the school year comes to a close, the traditions are all lined up.  Junior Prom.  Senior Picnic.  Senior Cut Day.  Graduation Count Down.  Senior Banquet.  Senior Prank.

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Bloomin’ Update 41: The Belles of the Peony Ball

/ Kevin / 28 Comments

Peony

Letter O2nce upon a time, in a garden somewhere between here and there, peony blossoms remained tightly wrapped in anticipation of their debut at the grand ball.  Even the servant ants worked tirelessly and feverishly to ensure that each fold, each petal, was proper and elegant.

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Spring Cleaning — Better Late Than Never

/ Kevin / 21 Comments

Tulip.

Tulip.

“My name is Allison MacKenzie.  Where I was born, time was told not by the clock or the calendar, but by the seasons.  Summer was carefree contentment.  Autumn was that bittersweet time of regret for moments that had ended and things that were yet undone.  And then winter fell, with a cold mantle of caution and chill, it nipped our noses and our arrogance and made us move closer to the warm stoves of memory and desire.  Spring was promise.  But there was a fifth season, of love.  And only the wise or the lucky ones new where to find it.”

This is the opening monologue from the film Peyton Place.  It’s here because a few weeks ago a reader, Camille, commented on an earlier post entitled Autumn In Peyton Place.  She had been searching for the verse and could I help her.  I popped in the DVD and took some dictation.

But after I read over the words, it occurred to me that if only seasons could be so easy and uncomplicated that their description could fit into a single — albeit melodramatic — paragraph.  If only . . .

Because lately, it seems, seasons are not so neat and tidy.  This spring, for example, has been one of the coolest — make that coldest — and dampest ones that I can remember.  Even this Memorial Day weekend, the unofficial start of summer, had snow falling in upstate New York.

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Book Review & Giveaway: “What A Plant Knows”

/ Kevin / 38 Comments

Peony

For many gardeners, the reasons for gardening come down to stimulating and satisfying our own senses: the scent of a summer rose, the feel of a freshly mowed lawn under your toes, the sound of morning songbirds, the taste of a homegrown tomato, or the sight of the saturated color of the season’s first peony bloom.

But are our senses the only ones being stirred in the garden?  According to a remarkable video and an equally remarkable book, the answer is “no.”  Our senses, it seems, are in good company with the senses of our plants.

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Happy Mother’s Day!

/ Kevin / 15 Comments

"If love is sweet as a flower, then my mother is that sweet flower of love." Stevie Wonder

“If love is sweet as a flower, then my mother is that sweet flower of love.”
Stevie Wonder

Mother’s Day and flowers, flowers and Mother’s Day — the two are so intertwined that it’s nearly impossible to separate them.  For most of my life, the day was a chance to give flats or flowering shrubs.  It’s also the day that symbolizes the absolute safe time of year to get things in the ground.  So for this day, here are a few photos of the azaleas, lilacs, and columbine blooming now and a few words for Mothers everywhere — including my own.

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So That’s Where Baby Hydrangeas Come From!

/ Kevin / 40 Comments

Bee 4

I remember the day I first learned about the birds and the bees, which — surprise — really had nothing to do with birds and bees.

I was watching an afternoon rerun of “Marcus Welby, M.D.” with my mother, and the episode focused on a patient with an STD, only it was called VD at the time.  My father walked in at that moment and asked if I knew what that meant.

“Um, yeah?” I said, unsure if the question mark at the end of my response gave me an air of authority or uncertainty.

And then came my father’s response, “Let’s go for a drive.”  Uncertainty it was.

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