gardening, nature

May Day 2026

suzielinn

“In the spring I have counted one hundred and thirty-six different kinds of weather inside of four-and-twenty hours.” ~ Mark Twain

This past week alone has found us with 136 different kinds of weather. Monday, the day I decided to reset my driveway food forest for the summer sunlight, was a stifling 90+ degrees. Tuesday afternoon, I moved half of my driveway food forest (again!) to make a path to get one of our vehicles in the garage due to a severe storm. I have found that an adrenaline fueled mad rush to get a vehicle under cover, as a storm is bearing down on us, is the best insurance against a storm actually hitting us. Tuesday’s storm again proved that, as the storm skirted just to the west of us, with softball size hail 60 miles away. By Thursday, I was back to gardening in winter clothes, as it was cloudy and damp, barely hitting 60 degrees. I planted corn, okra and amaranth on Thursday, though I did apologize to the seeds, for I know they much prefer warmer, sunnier weather. Those days are coming soon enough, but not today. This morning, like most mornings, I grabbed an apple to eat while doing my early morning garden walkabout. Fifteen minutes later, it felt nice to step back inside and feel the warmth of our furnace hard at work, likely its first ever May Day to run. The garden, I am pleased to say, is looking exceptionally good at the moment, as the flora has appreciated the rainy days after such a dry winter and early spring and don’t appear to mind the temperature swings quite as much as I do.

I am not one to make New Year’s resolutions, but I did resolve that this was the year I would not let flowers take over the garden paths or the vegetable beds. I would have dedicated areas for flowers and dedicated areas for vegetables. The two could touch and mingle around the edges, but I would not sacrifice my vegetable beds to wayward flowers. I am, by nature, a bit of a chaos gardener; I garden with reckless abandon and throw caution to the wind. But this year, I would reign that in! And here it is, the first day of May, not even the height of summer blooms, and already I am making allowances. I know I did not sow zinnia seeds inside my polytunnel. Did one of our heavy rains float the seeds here? Did the zinnias reseed from previous years? I really don’t know. What I do know, though, is that I now have zinnias coming up in what is suppose to be a dedicated vegetable bed. And also coming up right in the middle of the path inside this area! I have now failed on my resolution twice over because I just don’t have the heart to pull them or dig them up to move elsewhere. I also have salvia coccinea coming up in this area, but it can be a bit of a thug and I don’t mind pulling up the excess. The zinnias, for now, can stay.

While photographing the zinnias and zucchini, I also solved the mystery of why my onion stalks are falling over prematurely. I have been blaming the rabbits and squirrels, for I have seen both of them running over the onions on numerous occasions. Alas. I do believe it may be the work of my Rabbit Hunter and Squirrel Chaser, my Princess Leia. It’s a good thing she is so cute.

Last year, after my father’s death in March, I struggled to get my head in the game. I spent the spring and early summer floating aimlessly about the garden, needing some sort of direction. In mid-summer, I found out that I needed shoulder surgery and would be out of the gardening game from August through fall and in to early winter. This spring has been a deep sigh of relief, a time to renew my passion for growing an abundance of vegetables. The garden is rewarding me with a few early harvests, not enough to bring inside just yet, but a sneak peak of what – hopefully! – is ahead. I have been able to enjoy a small snack of green beans or cherry tomatoes here and there, eaten fresh off the plant. Peppers, despite some chilly days, are beginning to grow and ripen. (Serrano pepper shown below.)

“The word May is a perfumed word… It means youth, love, song; and all that is beautiful in life.” ~ Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

I decided to let the flat-leaf parsley go to seed, for the pollinators love its umbel flowers, held well above the main growth of the plant. (Shown in photographs above and below.) Today, it was abuzz with bees and flies. Flies are much maligned but make excellent pollinators for they will venture out even on stormy days.

May — The very word makes the heart leap. Birds, Buds, Blossoms, Beauty! Break away from every bondage of circumstance or low spirits and go out into the sunshine. Answer back the bird-note in your heart, kiss your finger tips to every new blossom and be a part of the spring. ~ Eva D. Kellogg

Blossoms and Beauty, indeed! I cannot believe it took me 30 years to plant skeleton-leaf goldeneye, a Texas native wildflower in the sunflower family. It has quickly become one of my favorite plants, as it is a favorite of pollinators and – doesn’t it just look spectacular with the shimmery Mexican feather grass?

Two added bonuses: It blooms from late spring until fall, which is an unusually long bloom time for a perennial. It also thrives in hot, dry environments. Last spring, I first planted one in that “hell strip” area – the small strip between the sidewalk and the street, where it gets baked in the sun, roasted by the reflected heat of pavement and ignored by the water hose.

How beautiful are the rosy footsteps of May! Less showery and changeful than April, and not so heated and burdensome as June, she stands like a gentle mediator between the two… With her soft blue eye, and her mild but radiant countenance, she comes like an angel of light among men… She scatters in her path the sweetest flowers of nature, and everywhere breathes fragrance and joyousness. The birds of the air are caroling her welcome, and even the mute beasts of the field seem happier at her coming. ~ Eliza Cook’s Journal

Happy May Day! Keep calm, garden on and enjoy these spring days.

All photographs taken May 1, 2026, in my southern Denton county, Texas, garden. Located in gardening zone 8 b.

gardening

Arbor Day 2026

suzielinn

The best time to plant a tree was twenty years ago. The second best time is now.

This past Friday, April 24th, was Arbor Day. The best time to write about Arbor Day would have been on Arbor Day. The second best time is now. Thankfully, Texas actually celebrates Arbor Day in November so I am technically really early to write about the tree loving and tree planting day instead of a few days late. But I do have a great excuse to be late to the April Arbor Day party. I was busy celebrating Texas Wildflower Day. (More on that another day!) I do still want to discuss Arbor Day – why we should love and (possibly) plant them any day of the year instead of waiting for an Arbor Day – April or November – to plant a tree. There is no denying that our planet is getting warmer. If you are a gardener, you feel it. The science continues to show it. Planting a few tress may seem a bit like putting your finger in a dike to hold back water. Such a small act, would it even help? Yet it is a tangible thing that all of us can do. And a lot of smaller actions, taken together, can have larger impacts.

I would first like to circle back around to Texas and why we celebrate Arbor Day on the first Friday in November instead of the last Friday of April like the rest of the country. In Texas, we are fortunate to be able to plant year round. Now “can” and “should” aren’t always one and the same. Our ground never freezes as it does in colder regions, meaning you can go outside and dig a hole in the ground 365 days of the year in this region. Planting in the fall and early winter takes advantage of cooler temperatures and more abundant rainfall, both of which help new plantings get established before the heat of the summer kicks in the following year. Now about that “can” and “should”… You can plant trees in April. You can also plant trees in August. (And I have done that before.) Just know that they will need monitoring and hand watering. You can’t plant a tree in the summer, then go on an extended vacation and expect your sprinkler system to provide adequate watering because it just won’t. Newly planted trees need supplemental watering to get established. Depending on your exact region and soil type, a deep watering twice a week with a garden hose may be needed.

And circling back around the Texas Wildflower Day. As much as I am on team Plant More Trees, I am also on team Restore The Prairie. I acknowledge that the two may not always seem compatible. My property, though, is situated in the Cross Timbers ecoregion, which originally would have been a mixture of prairies, savannas and woodlands. My own personal belief is that planting trees and restoring native prairie plants are equally important to the overall ecological goals of lessoning our impact on the planet, creating valuable habitats for wildlife, conserving water and bringing our own bit of property back to a balanced ecosystem. This was my second year attending Texas Wildflower Day at Texas Woman’s University and it will (hopefully) get its own blog post (or two) in the upcoming days.

It can be overwhelming to visit a garden center and select a tree, but doing a bit of research and reflection beforehand pays off. Do you want a tree that produces an edible harvest, a flowering ornamental tree or a tree that will one day shade your home? What mature size can your space handle? These are all questions one should consider before stepping foot in a garden center. Go in with a plan.

I have planted a number of trees on our property over the 30 years I have gardened this piece of Earth, but my favorite tree would be the chinkapin oak we planted in honor of our son’s birth 24 years ago. I won’t post a picture of my son today with “his” tree, but suffice to say that both my son and the oak now tower over me.

If one wants a tree that produces an edible harvest, a fig tree is one of the easiest pest-free trees available. Sizes vary widely depending on variety. Be sure to check out both of my earlier posts on fig trees. Persimmon is another fruit tree that does well in North Texas.

The pecan is our state tree, but one would do best planting this if they have an acreage and a strong back. My experience with the pecan is limited to dealing with our neighbor’s pecan for the past 30 years. It is a large messy tree, dropping branches whenever the wind flutters. It should not be planted anywhere near a house, let alone sandwiched between two homes in a suburban situation, as our neighbor’s tree is. It needs plenty of space. Now about that strong back… One will need a strong back to pick up the thousands of pecans that fall every autumn. Our neighbor’s tree has never produced anything near edible or desirable to humans. I have been told this is because it is our native pecan tree and not one that has been hybridized for larger, meatier pecans. Our neighbor’s pecans, however, are very desirable to every rodent (ie: rat, squirrel…) in the entire county and we fight endlessly to keep the rodents from bringing pecans in to our attic and garage. In the nursery trade, one can spot a pecan tree from across the grounds because of their distinct nursery pot. Pecans have an incredibly long taproot, requiring them to be grown for the horticulture trade in incredibly deep nursery pots. Squirrels bury what seems like an endless sea of pecans and one will also need that strong back again for dealing with the junk pecan trees that sprout up everywhere. Those long taproots take a sharpshooter shovel and a hearty heave-ho to dislodge the unwanted pecan sapling’s long taproot. This is where an acreage comes in handy. One could leave them be and have their own pecan forest within a few years or possibly mow right over them. But digging out several hundred unwanted pecan trees from a flower bed is exhausting work, necessitating a very strong back.

Above photograph: Our neighbor’s pecan tree

Midsize native trees that I grow and love include redbud, rough leaf dogwood, buttonbush, Mexican plum, cherry laurel and yaupon holly. We also have two bur oak trees on our property, which I have a solid love/hate relationship with. Love the shade…

Hate picking up thousands of large acorns each fall… One also needs a strong back when dealing with acorns!

A society grows great when old men plant trees in whose shade they know they shall never sit.

Keep calm and garden on – and please considering planting a tree or two.

All photographs taken in my zone 8b southern Denton County, Texas, garden.

gardening, nature

The Three R’s And Fungi

suzielinn

Yesterday was the 56th anniversary of the first Earth Day, though – in reality – we should strive to take care of the Earth every day. And yet, “we humans have been partying pretty hard. We’ve ransacked most of the Earth for resources,” wrote David Brower in his book, Let The Mountains Talk, Let The Rivers Run: A Call To Those Who Would Save The Earth. It has been 30 years since its publication and, sadly, more true today than in 1995.

As I was wandering my garden yesterday, an overcast April day, the plants still wet from recent rains, I was pondering what Earth Day means to me, as a gardener, as one who tries to live as softly on this Earth as possible. It is said that stewardship begins with respect for nature. I know that I am just one owner of this piece of property. I know not who lived here prior or how they used the land and its resources. I know not who will own this property in 50 years. But I respect and appreciate nature and hope that future inhabitants of this land know that I did my best to care for this part of Earth.

“Reduce, Reuse and Recycle,” the hallmarks of environmental activism and sustainability, are not just words to toss about, but words to live and garden by, essential to caring for this property, not just inside the house, but outside in the garden. How do fungi fall in to this mix?

In the words of mycologist Paul Stamets, fungi are “nature’s grand recyclers.” They break down organic material, like decaying wood and leaves, and transform them into nutrient-rich soil. Fungi are the ultimate at reducing, reusing and recycling.

As I was redoing my garden five years ago – shifting from 25 years as an ornamental rose garden, now mostly edible and native plantings – my husband and I needed to remove a number of older junk shrubs and trees from the back edges of our property. The junk shrubs were intentionally planted many years ago to give us privacy when a new subdivision sprang up beside us. The junk trees started their life here from wind blown seeds, undesirable elm trees, overlooked for far too long until they had taken hold and grown much too large and much too junky. But what to do with the many branches and logs besides hauling them off to the landfill? (I abhor sending organic matter to a landfill!)

The solution was obvious: I would line my new garden areas with the branches and logs. And so it began… quite organically and often dictated by the length of wood or the amount of energy needed to cut or move a larger section. Our home is situated on the outermost part of a faux cul-de-sac, giving us a larger than normal five sided, somewhat wedge of a pie shaped, property. I opted to start at the farthest most corner and work inward, with long L shaped beds along those fence lines. From there, geometry took over, necessitated by the straightness of logs, a sort of living game of garden Tetris. Some beds are long and narrow. Others are square, L or U shaped.

Over the past few years, it has been amazing to watch as the various fungi have appeared and as the logs are breaking down, disappearing, nature’s grand recyclers hard at work. What started as a way of reducing our need for the landfill has added life and nutrients to the property.

The earthworms have been hard at work, too, mixing this new nutrient-rich soil with the heavy clay gunk original to the property, leaving behind a lovely friable soil.

The logs – some are now fully buried, others partially buried – act as a sponge and store water, which they release slowly over time, meaning less watering is needed even in the heat of a Texas summer. Hügelkultur, the German word for these “mound cultures,” not only kept these logs out of the landfill, but continue to work by conserving water.

Pockets formed between rows of decomposing logs have been an especially fertile areas for vegetable growing. (Squash, shown above, growing in one such pocket.)

Using logs to edge vegetable beds and building up the soil level – the mound culture – allows for better drainage as the planting areas are slightly higher than the remaining soil.

Someday, I may elevate my food growing game and intentionally grow edible mushrooms. In the meantime, I am content watching the non-edible fungi that flourish in my garden, as they reduce, reuse and recycle organic matter.

All photographs (*) taken April 22, 2026, in my southern Denton County, Texas, suburban garden.

(* The 3rd photograph is actually from a few years ago, as we were taking down the junk elm trees.)

gardening

April days, egg yolks and weeds

suzielinn

The garden in mid April is a tale of the good, the lovely and the terrible, horrible, no good, really bad.

We have been blessed with rainy weather the past few weeks, with enough cloudy days in between rain showers to keep the temperatures down and the humidity high. The plants are loving it. Alas. Both the desired plants and the non-desired are loving it. But let’s save those undesired plants for later…

“Anyone who thinks gardening begins in the spring and ends in the fall is missing the best part of the whole year, for gardening begins in January with a dream.” ~ Josephine Nuese

This year’s garden began shortly before the calendar rolled over to 2026, when those first seed catalogs landed in the mailbox and dreams and plans were put on paper. Tomato seeds were sown in trays on the kitchen table sometime between Christmas and the new year and nurtured indoors until it was safe to plant outside. There is, perhaps, nothing more rewarding than watching your own homegrown tomato plant grow and flourish, aside from watching it produce a harvest. Those harvest days are coming; in the meantime, I am content watching the plants grow.

Yellow pear tomato has long been my favorite variety, as it has proven year after year to produce well in my garden – even in the heat of summer and well in to the fall. But there is always room for testing out new-to-me tomatoes and two that I am growing for the first time this year are Crokini and Egg Yolk.

Crokini, shown above.

Egg yolk, shown below. (A funny name for a tomato, but it is suppose to have bright yellow fruits – like an egg yolk.)

Yes, those are beans popping up with the tomatoes. I am attempting to outsmart the rabbits by growing their beloved green beans just out of their easy reach. So far, so good!

For happy health, fuel yourself with dreams and greens. ~ Terri Guillemets

I started down the road of edimental (edible + ornamental) food forest gardening around 2021 as a way to garden myself back to health and grow at least a bit of my produce. Two of my earliest purchases were longevity spinach and Okinawa spinach. Both are tender perennials that overwinter inside, tucked in a corner of our kitchen. By the end of winter, they always look more than a little sad but they rebound quickly once outside. I am still amazed that I can harvest fresh greens throughout our Texas summers.

Longevity spinach, shown above.

Longevity spinach (back left) and Okinawa spinach (front right), shown below.

Swiss chard, shown below, is another green that provides abundant harvests in my region. This one is, perhaps, one of the loveliest, the largest and most lush Swiss chards I have ever grown. I really must harvest more but it really puts the “ornamental” in edimental and makes it difficult to clip any leaves. Swiss chard, as a biennial, has a two year growing cycle. Plant it once and you have fresh salad greens for two years. (Sneak peak: The photo below also shows some of the terrible, horrible going on in my garden!)

Garlic was planted in the late fall, later than I would normally plant, but rotator cuff surgery kept me out of the garden in early fall. A few of the garlic beds were later sown with cilantro seeds, in hopes of getting a double harvest. (Photo below.) We shall see how it actually worked when the garlic is pulled in late spring to early summer… but the cilantro has been wonderful.

I am allowing some of the cilantro to bloom as it provides much needed nectar this time of year. Bonus: The blooms are quite lovely.

(Cilantro in bloom, shown below.)

Cilantro is a cool season herb and will not take our summer heat in North Texas. If one is dreaming of fresh salsa, made exclusively from the garden, it is best to give up those dreams or move to a more favorable gardening region. Slight tweaks to the dreams can make it work. One could grow their cilantro in the fall through early spring (it tolerates our winter cold, if given protection during extreme cold/snow/ice), harvest and freeze the cilantro in spring, all the while waiting on the onions, tomatoes and peppers to be ready to harvest. The cilantro will discolor some when thawed, but still retains its flavor. (It quickly loses its flavor when dehydrated.) Another tweak may actually be throwing in the trowel and buying cilantro at the store when your summer veg are ready for salsa making. I have dreams one day of growing cilantro (and dill!) hydroponically inside during the summer, but have not reached that level quite yet.

Speaking of more favorable gardening regions… I was born and raised in America’s breadbasket – the rich soils and abundant rains of the Midwest. I have fond memories of my childhood, eating mulberries from the tree that grew wild outside our small town’s public swimming pool. In my quest to grow nutrient dense foods for myself, I turned to the lowly mulberry. A weedy shrubby tree to some. Dark and rich in anthocyanins to others. This spring has found me introducing my young adult offspring, currently living at home, to the joys of fresh picked mulberries, the purple pigment staining the fingers and lips.

(Issai mulberry, shown below.)

I have lived in Texas for nearly 40 years now and have gardened the same plot of land in North Texas for 30 years. I have loved and planted Texas native plants all along. Alas. Growing the bluebonnet, our state flower, continues to mystify me. For three years in a row now, I have officially had ONE lone bluebonnet. I have sown and scattered seeds in every manner possible, all to little avail. The first lone bluebonnet appeared in the middle of a pathway, up near our house. Last year, the solitary bluebonnet popped up about halfway down our gently sloping back yard. This year, the solo wildflower showed up beside the pathway at the end of the slope, right before our property turns in to city land. What will next year bring? Perhaps a plethora of bluebonnets on city property? Stay tuned for updates in spring 2027! In the meantime, I have been enjoying this lovely pop of bright blue. (Bluebonnet shown below.)

Weeds are nature’s graffiti. ~ J.L.W. Brooks

Is the pink evening primrose a weed or a wildflower? The answer depends. It is quite possibly shifting from lovely to horrible as I type. Sure, it is beautiful en masse along our Texas roadways. Taking over my garden? Not so much. Lovely today, nature’s graffiti tomorrow. Next month, when it has finished blooming, I shall take a hoe to it and reduce it’s footprint in my garden. In the meantime, I will enjoy it’s beauty, just as the bees are enjoying it’s nectar. (Pink evening primrose, shown below.)

Weeds are Nature’s makeshift. She rejoices in the grass and the grain, but when these fail to cover her nakedness she resorts to weeds. ~John Burroughs

That line between unwanted weed and wanted flower is hazy at best. My beloved passionvine is one such “somewhere between unwanted and wanted” flower in my garden. How do I love thee? Let me count the ways. 1.) It is stunning in bloom! 2.) It is the host plant for gulf fritillary butterflies, which I adore. 3.) I love planting for our pollinators and it sure does lure them in. 4.) Did I mention it is stunning? Yes. But it deserves mentioning twice because it has such an unusual flower and incredible tropical vibe. Alas. Scrambling over everything that stops for a nanosecond? Not so much. Thankfully, the unwanted tender young seedlings are a cinch to pull up. I have made a note to myself to keep three or four vines, but not a dozen. And I will only keep those seedlings that sprouted up by something vertical to climb. All others will be removed! (…so she says now…) The passionvine pictured below is safe, as I can easily train the vine from this stack of old metal pieces and parts toward an arbor nearby.

I have also vowed to keep my pathways open this year and am off to a great start. (…though the year is still young…) I have been potting up and giving away the extra Salvia coccinea in the pathway shown below, as last year it became nearly impassable by September. I have a dozen or so more young seedlings that need to be dug this weekend. And, yes, I did decide to leave the penstemon (far left in photograph) as it won’t sprawl and hog the pathway the way an ornamental salvia will.

Weeds are great travelers; they are, indeed, the tramps of the vegetable world. They are going east, west, north, south; they walk; they fly; they swim; they steal a ride; they travel by rail, by flood, by wind; they go under ground, and they go above, across lots, and by the highway. ~ John Burroughs

Now about those “true” weeds and the terrible, horrible, no good really bad stuff going on in the garden. Enter: briar vine. Can I get an Amen?! And can I please get some help battling it?! If ever there was a weed that travels east, west, north and south, this is it. And yes, the vines go underground and the vines go above ground. I remain committed to organic gardening and will not use herbicides, especially now that I am growing food for my health, but the digging and weeding and gently pulling it off desired plants seems endless. In addition to briar vine, I battle trumpet vine – a variety that was sold as “non invasive – and junk trees galore – squirrel and wind planted oaks, pecans and elms. At least I will always have something to weed, said no gardener ever.

A beautiful clematis, being swallowed alive by briar vine, is shown below.

All photographs were taken April 13, 2026, in my Southern Denton County, Texas, garden, zone 8b.

All links are provided as a courtesy; I do not receive money or products from any companies linked.

gardening

About the garden today. No joke.

suzielinn

Ah. Sweet April! You arrived! And despite our drought and extended rollercoaster of temperatures, the garden is shining bright and looking lush and lovely, no jokes about it.

It has been a stellar year for the bright red amaryllis, shown above. I have been digging and dividing many of the clumps about the garden but didn’t make it to this clump one prior to the bulbs sending up flower stalks. I have to say: I am glad I hadn’t divided them yet, as it is so amazing to see 40plus amaryllis blooms all at once!

After losing more than 100 antique roses to Rose Rosette Virus, I swore I would never again plant another rose. And then… I went to The Antique Rose Emporium’s fall rose festival in 2023 and…

I should have seen it coming.

It was right there in the name.

Twice!

Rose Emporium.

Rose Festival.

Yes, I bought three roses. One of those roses – Roemer’s Hip Happy – was selected because it produces an abundance of rose hips, which I want for herbal teas. Roemer’s Hip Happy (shown above and below) happens to be sandwiched between two clumps of red amaryllis. A very cheery color and texture combination.

Two of my original roses – the few that somehow avoided RRV – are especially lovely today, April 1st.

First up: Marie Pavie, shown below, is loaded with delicate soft pink blossoms.

One doesn’t normally think of roses when they picture pollinator friendly plants, but the bees were enjoying Marie this morning, shown below.

The second rose that avoided RRV is currently the focal point of the front flower bed. (Shown below)

I am still working to verify her name, but I am 99.5% certain she is Marchessa Boccella. The fragrance is outstanding! Classic old damask rose scent. Isn’t she lovely?

Another plant that is shining bright today is an unknown clematis, shown below. Yes. I have a lot of unknown varieties of plants in the garden. Keeping good records is no laughing matter! It is a skill set that I do not seem to possess. I plant here and there and everywhere, sometimes recording plant names, sometimes not. I have gardened this piece of land for 30 years now. A green thumb, I think I can say I possess. Organizational skills, I do not have.

A rose by any other name would smell as sweet. A unknown clematis by any other name would be as lovely.

On a serious note: Rabbits.

Those adorable fluffy little evil rodents with an affinity for locally sourced organic veg.

Peter Rabbit, shown below, is all cute and adorable, amiright? Alas. I have turned in to Mrs. McGregor, trying to keep Peter and his siblings and cousins and aunts and uncles out of my garden. For years, I scolded my dog for chasing the rabbits. But it has come down to Rabbits Versus Me Growing Green Beans. I now cheer my dog on, perhaps a bit too enthusiastically, for I don’t know I am prepared to deal with the aftermath if she actually catches a rabbit! (Full disclosure: My dog did “clear out” a nest of baby bunnies earlier this spring. And by “clear out,” I do mean she, um, yeah. It wasn’t pretty. I felt really awful. For about five minutes. Then I remembered It is Me Growing Green Beans Versus Rabbits.)

Growing food is no walk in the park. Yes, it is highly rewarding; I have been savoring fresh picked mulberries the past few weeks as I watch the tomatoes get taller and sturdier and setting flowers. Homegrown tomatoes are on the horizon! But it is an endless battle between rabbits and squirrels and who knows what else visits my garden overnight. You win some and you lose some and you learn not to count your chickens before they hatch. And yet! I am eyeing the blueberries…

And the pomegranates…

And the figs!

Will I get a harvest? Or just be pranked?! Stay tuned for updates… But until then… One last photograph of my amaryllis because… Well, aren’t they lovely?! (Overheard shot, shown below)

All photographs taken today, Wednesday, April 1, 2026, in my Southern Denton County, Texas, suburban garden.

gardening

The elephant in the garden center…

suzielinn

It is a common refrain.

Oh, I can’t garden. I kill everything I plant.

I tried to put in a garden, but I guess I am just just not cut out for it because everything I planted died.

As my life happily revolves around gardening, the topic ends up weaved in, in some way, to many conversations. And, as the saying goes: If I had a nickel for every time someone told me they lack the gardening gene, I would be able to buy myself a lovely Victorian greenhouse!

I am honestly sad when someone tells me they lack the green thumb needed to be a gardener. I often tell them that it takes time and practice, that we learn more from our failures than we do of our successes. One can’t simply put in a garden, kill something, then give up. We didn’t do that when we learned to ride a bike, right? We kept trying until we figured out how to balance on two wheels and pedal and turn corners and brake without flying over the handlebars. The same is true for gardening.

There are many pieces and parts to successful gardening – soil, weather, sunlight/shade, knowing what to plant when. As with balancing a bike, if one thing is off, it can affect the whole. It takes practice and research and – yes – sometimes killing a few plants to figure out how to garden successfully. The goal is to research and learn so we don’t have to kill quite so many plants as we grow as gardeners.

Today, though, I want to talk about the elephant in the room garden center.

This morning, like, um, too many mornings, I decided to stop by the local chain garden center that is conveniently located between our house and the gym. (It is my reward for getting up early on a Monday morning and hitting the gym.) And there it was. That elephant. Looking all cute and promising, lush and green. Just waiting to be purchased and taken home and tucked in to some new gardener’s garden.

I don’t blame the new gardener. How would they know that we can’t plant elephants in North Texas in mid-February? Why, after all, would a garden center be selling something that is still many weeks two months away from doing well in the garden?

Well, it’s an easy buck (five bucks, actually) for the garden center. And, sadly, many new gardeners fall for those elephants, enough that garden centers continue to sell them. It’s a vicious cycle. There is implied trust, that what is being sold is acceptable to be planted. But it leaves many wanna be gardeners thinking they can’t garden. Of course the elephant died. It is February. Elephants are a heat loving plant, they are very cold sensitive and we are still weeks away from our average last frost date. But the new gardener? They are still learning, practicing, researching, figuring out what to plant when. So they trust that the plants available today are suitable to be planted today.

Those are the elephants. We look the other way when we see them being sold before (or after) their time. It’s easier to blame the unknowing plant buyer than to blame the industry. And yet the industry continues to push out summer vegetables earlier and earlier, when they know the majority of those plants will likely freeze when planted this early.

First – I want to take a moment to discuss where plants may be purchased, as that it a critical part of gardening and understanding elephants, as it directly impacts what ends up for sale to the consumer/gardener.

1.) a Big Box hardware or home improvement store that has a garden center attached to it, where wholesale plant buying decisions are often made hundreds of miles away

2.) a chain garden center (ie: they are a dedicated garden center but they have many locations across a region)

3.) an independent garden center (ie: they are a dedicated garden center but only have one or two locations).

I personally prefer to purchase from number three, the independent garden center. I find that they are much more likely to sell plants that will do well in our area and are more likely to sell the correct plants for the season. They also tend to hire gardeners as employees. Because independent garden centers have a direct financial impact from every plant they sell – or don’t sell – they are much more likely to educate gardeners and have resources available, from “how to” classes to handouts and planting guides. I love supporting the many wonderful independent garden centers in North Texas, as I think the quality of their plants is well worth the drive. Prices at independent garden centers tend to be a bit higher than Big Box stores, but less than our chain garden centers. This now circles back to this morning and those elephants.

We have a chain garden center that is quite literally – In Our Back Yard. When we bought our house 30 years ago, the land behind our back fence was horse pastures. Then suburbia came in and McMansions sprouted up, along with a chain garden center, a Tex-Mex restaurant and a drive through coffee place. I have been known to walk to this garden center. It is way too convenient for those times when I just need a bag of potting soil or a plant pick me up. Or a reward for dragging myself to the gym on a Monday morning.

But. Those elephants!

Row after row of lovely vegetable starts! They did look appealing, fresh off the delivery truck. Lush green growth. Beautiful color photographs showing what harvests await.

But one of the first “rules” of gardening – one of the most important steps to a successful garden – is knowing what to plant when.

I garden just north of Dallas-Fort Worth, in USDA plant hardiness zone 8b. According to The Old Farmer’s Almanac, my average last freeze date of the winter is March 23rd. Our average first freeze of the fall/winter is November 9th, which gives me roughly 230 days without freezing temperatures. I say “roughly” because 1.) these are averages and 2.) other sources may give dates a week or so off.

What that information means, though, is that gardeners in North Texas may well expect a freeze in mid- to late March, which is still over a month away. Some of those vegetable starts available this morning at the chain garden center are perfectly fine to be planted now. But the majority of them left me sad, disheartened to know that new gardeners would likely be lured in to buying and planting them. A vegetable planting guide, a handy chart of what vegetable to plant when, is such a simple thing, one of the most practical and inexpensive tools every gardener should have. Vegetable planting guides should be readily available at all garden centers, either as a QR code to scan or as a handout.

I personally keep three vegetable planting guides from the three independent garden centers that I frequent. Yes, the information overlaps and having three may be overkill, but it also guarantees I can always find a copy when I need it because – yes – even long-time gardeners sometime need to doublecheck planting dates. Brassica (cauliflower, broccoli, etc), lettuce and Swiss chard can handle cooler temperatures. Those can be planted now. But hold off on those elephants – corn, beans, squash, cucumbers.

Perhaps the biggest elephant in the room garden center – corn. Corn! Now I grew up in Iowa (a far ways from North Texas) and we always said corn should be knee high by the fourth of July. I don’t actually know what it should be here, but I can assure you buying knee high corn in February won’t get you anywhere except out five bucks. Corn loves the heat of summer. Our soil temperatures and air temperatures are still too cool for corn, our days are still too short. We can still reasonably get a freeze for another five to six weeks. And yet, as I wandered the greenhouse this morning, I saw so many individuals stop and look at them. Perhaps they had the same thought I did, “In what universe is it okay to buy and plant corn in mid-February?!” Alas. I know that cycle – the garden center offers them because they sell – and new gardeners buy those heat loving plants way too early in the season and then we get that March freeze (because we always do) and they think the failure is on them, that they can’t garden, they lack the gardening gene, when in reality the garden center should not have sold heat loving plants in mid-February!

And, yes, I know. Experienced gardeners love to push the bounds. Many of us love to tempt Mother Nature and plant our tomatoes in early March, knowing full well that we may still have a late frost and we will be dashing about, covering our tomatoes. But new gardeners may well not know this. All they know is that they bought said plant, planted it and it died. Now they think they can’t garden. The garden center made their money, but they potentially lost a future wonderful gardener who just bought the wrong plant, planted it at the wrong time and gave up before they had the wisdom to know not to plant elephants in North Texas in mid-February!

gardening

In Gratitude…

suzielinn

We can only be said to be alive in those moments when our hearts are conscious of our treasure. ~Thornton Wilder

I have spent much of this year trying to get my proverbial ducks in a row. “I just can’t get my head in the game,” I have muttered more times that I would care to admit.

My father passed away from skin cancer in mid-March, while my husband was midway through a round of bladder cancer treatments. Our flight to Omaha was canceled, as the Midwest was forecast to receive a blizzard. And receive a blizzard they did! We ended up driving north, in to the blizzard and through the blizzard, to make it to my father’s funeral. Bladder cancer treatments and long car rides do not go together. Add in the swirling, blinding snow and fierce winds and… Well, that is one road trip we will never forget, try as we might. I do firmly blame cite that day as to why… I just can’t get my head in the game. It is November? Already? How? When did it get so late? Where are my ducks? Not in a row! Is this grief? Or just wayward ducks? But here we are. Somehow. Thanksgiving Eve.

Despite all that, I do have much to be thankful for this year. In no particular order…

This year, I am extremely thankful for my husband’s health. We found out in July that he is NED – No evidence of disease. Yes, we are currently living in this weird gray area of “not actively a cancer patient” and trying to figure out what our new normal looks like, as we float between scans and cystoscopies. Bladder cancer is one of the most recurrent of cancers, and it is a cancer that often moves about the body, but for today we are thankful. NED. We will take it. The urology oncology department at UT-Southwestern is wonderful and we are so thankful to live near such an outstanding medical facility. My husband is a hard-core cyclist and is currently 650 miles shy of hitting his goal of biking 7,500 miles this year. I am thankful for his biking, as it is good for his body and his soul. It is also a great equalizer. He has his bike. I have my garden. I don’t say anything about how much time he bikes. He doesn’t say too much about how much money I spend on the garden. It’s all equal.

I cannot count my blessings without including my most precious one, my son. He was born premature via an emergency c-section due to HELLP Syndrome. We planted a Chinkapin Oak shortly after he came home from NICU and they have grown up together. (Both shown in photograph below) In a blink of an eye, they both now tower over me. Our son received his master’s degree in May of this year and is – drumroll, please – employed in his career field! The days were long, but the years were too short… We are forever thankful for the medical care we received before, during and after his birth.

This Thanksgiving week, I am thankful for my garden, for the joy it brings to my life, for the food it provides my body, for the healing energy it gives my soul. I am thankful for the wildlife that pass our way, such as the gulf fritillary caterpillar I spied this Thanksgiving Eve day. (Photograph below)

I am thankful for the rain and the sunshine that enables the garden to grow, such as the garlic that is already several inches tall after just a week in the ground. (Photograph below) I am thankful for my own health, as my body continues to play “Whack-A-Mole” with various ailments. This year, it has been my right shoulder and bicep, surgically repaired in late August. I am extremely thankful that I have been able to resume gardening this fall. (And very, very thankful that my husband took care of my garden while I was recovering from surgery!)

…all which we behold is full of blessings… ~ William Wordsworth

Notable harvests this year include: Our first tastes of loquats! Heavenly! And persimmons! Oh My. (Loquat shown in photograph below.)

One should never count their loquats before they ripen, but my Christmas loquat is currently blooming and I am ever so hopeful that I will get a good harvest next spring. As loquats bloom during the winter months, mine resides in a large container which comes in to the garage during freezing weather.

It has been another wonderful year for hot peppers. Here it is, late November, and I still have Tabasco peppers growing and soaking up the sunshine. (Photograph below)

I added seven new raised beds, plus a poly tunnel, early in 2025. I have hopes that those will be dedicated to vegetable production, otherwise I tend to let the flowers roam a bit too freely and crowd out the veg. This year was not a good test of that strategy due to the above mentioned “Can’t get my head in the game,” coupled with being sidelined from gardening while my shoulder and bicep recovered. The poly tunnel (currently minus its poly covering) is comically overgrown at the moment! (Photograph below) But – as I promised my tomato cages, when I stacked them up prior to my surgery: Here’s to a healthy and productive 2026!

In addition to the overgrown poly tunnel, I have lost more than one pathway, overtaken now by salvia coccinia. (Photograph below) Yes, I have my work cut out for me, reigning the garden back in. But I am thankful for free spirited reseeding flowers, such as this salvia, and the whimsy they bring as they pop up here and there.

It is perhaps odd to be thankful for garden art, but that is part of what makes a garden – well – a garden. The statuary. The decorations. Those unique touches. The stories and memories behind each piece, collected over the years. This angel (shown below) came to my garden early in the year, a free piece listed on our local “buy nothing” group. Yes, the bowl and a wing is broken, but – to me – that is what makes her so charming. I should mention here that she weighs in at a hefty 200-some-odd pounds and was a beast for me to get loaded in to my truck by myself. I am (on most days) thankful for my personal trainer. Without him, I wouldn’t push myself to lift such heavy weights which directly translated to being able to load this beast of an angel.

For gratitude not merely stands alone at the head of all the virtues, but is even mother of all the rest. ~ Cicero

I am ever thankful for family and friends, food on the table and a warm place to rest my head at night. For good books and chocolate.

(The loquat photograph was taken in April of this year. The remaining photographs were taken today, November 26th, on Thanksgiving Eve day, in my southern Denton County, Texas, garden.)

gardening, nature

Happy Native Plant Week

suzielinn

I don’t know about you, but I never miss a chance to celebrate, especially when celebrating means buying a new plant. Or two. Or ten. Of course, celebrating Texas Native Plant Week requires gardeners (for me, at least) to visit a garden center. Or at the very least, it allows us to promote the many benefits of our wide variety of plants native to this state.

Rick Perry, our former governor, designated the third week of October as Texas Native Plant Week in 2009. Our state’s Arbor Day is also in the fall – the first Friday in November. Now many people may wonder why we celebrate plants in the fall in Texas when many states are already experiencing their first freezes of the season or will soon be buried under a blanket of snow. Fall is actually the best time to plant hardy perennials, trees and shrubs in southern climates, as our temperatures are cooler and rainfall more plentiful. Fall planting gives plants additional time to adjust before our hot and dry summers hit.

Adding native plants – ones that are better adapted to growing in our soils and climate – preserve our water resources, as they require less water once established. As our state’s population continues to grow, our manmade lakes will feel the strain that traditional landscapes require. Water restrictions will to be the norm for most of the state going forward. Native plants also don’t need special treatment to thrive, no fertilizers or special soil mixes. They also provide much needed native habitat and food for our wildlife and help conserve our wildlife populations.

So here we are – Happy Texas Native Plant Week! Have a slice of cake and plant a few natives in your landscape. Here are some of my favorite native plants, in no particular order.

Echinacea, commonly known as coneflower: A wonderful reseeding perennial. A wide variety of insects will nectar on its blooms and songbirds will feast on the dried seeds through the winter. What seeds remain in late winter, I will cut back and scatter throughout the garden. (Coneflower is shown in photograph above.)

Callirhoe involucrata, commonly known as winecups: A rosette of greenery will emerge from its tuberous root in late winter and will scamper up and over and about the garden. It will start blooming in late spring in to early summer. It is dormant in the heat of summer and fall. (Winecup is shown in photograph above.)

Cephalanthus occidentalis, commonly known as buttonbush: I would have a hard time selecting a favorite native plant, but buttonbush would likely be it. I love standing under the small tree when it is in bloom and watching just an outstanding variety of insects nectaring on the orb shaped flowers. Where else can you get a Dr. Seuss style bloom that is so well loved by the insect world? (Buttonbush is shown above.)

Cornus drummondii, commonly known as rough-leaf dogwood: For years – okay, two decades?! – I tried to eliminate this shrubby tree from my garden, as it wants to spread and take over. Alas. I have given in to its lovely blossoms and its willingness to thrive on neglect. Added bonuses: Insects love the blooms and songbirds love the berries. (Rough-leaf dogwood shown above.)

Twenty five years and another lifetime ago, I worked at a small organic garden center in the Dallas-Fort Worth area. We received a much-awaited shipment of native plants. Alas. As the driver opened the back of the box truck, with a cluster of garden center employees standing ready to Ooh and Aw over the plants, horror awaited. The heavy wooden shelf system had collapsed during transit and crushed everything underneath, including a dozen or so rough-leaf dogwood trees. Nearly everything in the truck lay broken and bruised and little was salvageable. That night after work, I took home a tiny broken twig of rough-leaf dogwood. Within two years, I was trying to eliminate it from my garden because it was like the Little Engine That Could. It thought it could grow. It thought it could grow. And grow it did! Now I absolutely love it and am glad I made peace with its determined growing habits.

Callicarpa americana, commonly known as beautyberry: A shrub with clusters of flowers in the spring, followed by brilliant purple berries in the summer and fall. (Beautyberry shown in photographs above and below.)

Calyptocarpus vialis, commonly known as horseherb: There is a native plant for every growing situation and need. This is a fabulous lowgrowing ground cover for shady areas. (Horseherb shown below.)

Monarda fistulosa, commonly known as beebalm: There are many beebalms on the market, but the majority of them are hybridized, non-native varieties. Those tend to succumb to powdery mildew in this area and their flowers lack the nectar of the native variety. Fistulosa is the native one; many garden centers offer it in their herb section. This beebalm is especially loved by butterflies as the nectar is deep within the flower. (Swallowtail butterfly shown on monarda fistulosa in photograph below.)

Penstemon tenuis: A lovely reseeding perennial. This penstemon blooms very early in the spring, at a critical time for insects. The plants are light and airy, with blooms held above the foliage. (Penstemon tenuis shown in bottom two photographs.)

There you have it – some of my favorite Texas native plants. No matter how you celebrate Texas Native Plant Week, I hope you get to enjoy some cake and visit one of the many wonderful garden centers we have throughout our state. We are so fortunate to have a number of locally owned garden centers that were early on the native plant bandwagon and really fought to bring native plants to the mainstream. Please seek them out and support them whenever possible!

All photographs taken in my own garden – zone 8b, southern Denton County, Texas.

gardening, nature

The monarchs are here!

suzielinn

I felt a bit like a mashup of Paul Revere and the poet Richard Le Gallienne today, though instead shouting that the redcoats were coming nor penning about a poem about a brown bird singing in the apple tree and pulling me out to the garden, I was all abuzz that the monarch are here! In my garden! Not one. Plural. Monarchs. The monarchs are here!

My garden happens to sit perfectly along their migration path. Each spring, the monarchs emerge from their winter habitat in Mexico and travel north for the summer. Along the way, they search for milkweed – the monarch’s host plant – to lay their eggs on. But now it is autumn and they are migrating south for the winter and they are in search of fuel – in the form of nectar – for the long journey that still lies ahead of them. Fall blooming flowers are critical for their survival.

Insects may be our canary in the coalmine – the warning sign of environmental troubles ahead. They are the most vulnerable to shifts in climate and weather extremes. As more and more wild lands are destroyed and either conventionally farmed (ie: with chemicals) or paved over for subdivisions and highways, insects – including the beloved monarch butterflies – find less and less food in the wild. Restoring native habitat is critically important. But it doesn’t take an acre to help. Anyone with a bit of space, even those with balconies or a small patio can grow a container of fall blooming flowers for the monarchs to feed on as they are passing through.

My own garden right now looks a bit worse for the wear, as I have been out of commission for the past two months. Thankfully, I do favor plants that not only grew in my absence, some seemed to thrive on my neglect! As I was getting around to leave for physical therapy earlier today, I happened to notice one, two, four, six and more monarchs fluttering about my garden. I quickly grabbed my camera and out to the garden I went. I did manage to make it to therapy on time, though I was still picking dried leaves and seeds off my clothes and shaking them out of my hair as I walked in to my session. As soon as I was finished, it was back out to the garden, which is where The Husband found me some time later, still laughing and flitting about my garden, as I snapped dozens and dozens of photographs of the monarchs.

Following are a few easy steps we all can take to help the monarchs.

1.) No pesticides or insecticides. Even organic ones can and do kill beneficial insects. The majority of insects in the world are harmless. Plants that are grown specifically for butterflies, from their host plants to flowering nectar plants, must be organic.

2.) Water is crucial for butterflies. Provide a shallow basin with pebbles or shells for them to land on.

3.) Trees provide much needed nighttime roosting spots for butterflies, as well as shelter from stormy weather.

4.) Plant natives whenever possible! Many of the hybridized plants on the market have been bred for larger flowers, but they often lack the rich nectar that the native variety have. When shopping for plants, avoid ones that have a specific name in quotation marks or have a trademark emblem next to the name. Those are easily identified as hybridized varieties.

5.) Plant well adapted fall blooming plants that will survive our summer heat and drought. Some examples of plants that will bloom in North Texas during the fall monarch migration include: zinnias, cosmos, tithonia (Mexican sunflower), Mexican mint marigold and pentas. The two flowers the monarchs were nectaring on in my garden were cosmos and zinnia, both well adapted annuals.

6.) Plant a wide variety of plants so you always have something in bloom. A variety of flower colors and flower shapes will also attract a wider variety of butterflies, not just monarchs.

7.) Plant in groupings of three or more as a larger expanse of blooms will be more visible to butterflies flying overhead. This also allows butterflies to nectar from multiple plants without needing to fly off so soon in search of additional food.

Some fall blooming Texas natives include: Anise hyssop (Agastache foeniculum), Frostweed (Verbesina virginica), Gaillardia (Gaillardia aristata), Cardinal flower (Lobelia cardinalis), Ironweed (Vernonia baldwinii), Gregg’s mistflower (Conoclinium greggii), White boneset (Eupatorium serotinum), Zexmenia, Turk’s cap (Malvaviscus arboreus var. drummondii), Prairie verbena (Glandularia bipinnatifida), Gray vervain (Verbena canescens), Aromatic (Fall) aster (Symphyotrichum oblongifolium) and Coneflower (Echinacea purpurea).

Varieties of Rudbeckia/Black-eyed Susan: Rudbeckia hirta, Rudbeckia fulgida, Rudbeckia laciniata, Rudbeckia maxima, Rudbeckia texana, Rudbeckia triloba.

Varieties of Liatris/Gayfeather: Liatris acidota, Liatris aestivalis, Liatris aspera, Liatris elegans, Liatris lancifolia, Liatris punctata, Liatris tenuis.

Lantana urticoides is native to this area. There are numerous other lantana varieties      available —   a few are perennial, but many on the market are annuals in our area. Special note: The berries on Lantana urticoides are poisonous.

Fall blooming salvia varieties include: Pitcher sage (Salvia azurea), Scarlet sage (Salvia coccinea), Mealy sage (Salvia farinacea), Autumn sage (Salvia greggii).

Keep calm and garden on and consider planting a butterfly garden.

All photographs were taken October 22nd, 2025, in my southern Denton County, Texas, garden. I have organically gardened this piece of earth – a large suburban lot – for 30 years.

I meant to do my work today by Richard Le Gallienne

 I meant to do my work today—
   But a brown bird sang in the apple tree,
And a butterfly flitted across the field,
   And all the leaves were calling me. 

And the wind went sighing over the land,
   Tossing the grasses to and fro,
And a rainbow held out its shining hand—
   So what could I do but laugh and go?

gardening

Back in the saddle again…

suzielinn

The rollercoaster which is my life decided it was time to fly off a cliff. Or so it has felt like the past few months.

Last autumn, I took a hard kersplat while training for a 10k run. (Otherwise known as: I took a fall last fall. Autumn and kersplat sound much better, amiright? But I digress…) Life being what it is, it wasn’t until June that I decided to confront the nagging pain and discomfort in my right shoulder, a result of landing hard on my bent arm last autumn. And – wouldn’t you know it – I had a complete tear in the rotator cuff, as well as a torn bicep, and. Hello, Cliff. Time to take flight.

Two months ago, I had surgery to repair both tears and – if you aren’t familiar with post rotator cuff surgery – consider yourself very, very fortunate. Six weeks in the bulkiest, hottest, most uncomfortable contraption ever invented. Yes, they call it an “abductor shoulder sling.” I prefer to call it… er… I will keep this G rated. I will just say that at my six week post-op appointment, I told the orthopedic surgeon that I had a gallon of gasoline and a metal trash in my truck and I planned to burn that… er… sling… in his parking lot, if he wanted to join me for the bonfire. He advised me to throw the sling in the attic “as insurance that I will never ever need it again – Murphy’s Law – as soon as one gets rid of it, they will need it again.” So off to the attic the sling went… I am not one to tempt Fate nor Murphy.

And what does all of that have to do with gardening and being Back in the Saddle Again?

Well, my garden assistant – otherwise known as The Husband – the one who had dutifully kept my garden watered through the hottest part of a Texas summer while I was confined to the above mentioned sling – had been telling me for the past week that I had a lot of peppers that needed to be picked. Yes, yes, I knew that. But I am in what the physical therapist calls, “The Danger Zone.” I am out of the sling but not out of the woods and free to roam about quite yet. My garden strolls have been limited to just that. Strolls. On paths. No actual gardening. Ah. But Sunday, while The Husband, otherwise known as The Enforcer Of Shoulder Rehab Rules, was away running errands, I decided those peppers weren’t going to pick themselves, so off to the garden I went!

Ah! I am ridin’ the range again! Back in the saddle, I am!

It will be slow and steady for quite a while yet but I cannot even begin to tell you how glorious it felt to get some dirt under my fingernails.

And. About those peppers!

I picked a bowl.

And then needed another bowl?!

Yes. The Husband was right. (Sh… Don’t tell him I said that! Our secret, okay?)

I Had Some Peppers To Pick!

Two bowls worth of peppers! Not too shabby considering the garden had run feral for two months.

Some of the poblano peppers went straight in to supper that night as tamale stuffed peppers, which was the first time making that recipe and it will be back on the menu again soon. Some of the peppers are too wickedly hot (ie: 45 minutes after I tasted and spit out one of them, I was beginning to feel my lips again…) Those will most likely be given to a neighbor who likes him some hot peppers. Some of the peppers are destined for the dehydrator, as I purchased one last summer after I realized I can make my own chimichurri seasoning.

I am now anxious to get some winter veg planted, though I will need to clear some garden space first as the passionvine, in my absence, may have tried to outperform kudzu as fastest growing vine in the south. That task will need to wait a while, though, as the fritillary butterflies have been all aflutter the past few days. In the meantime, I will wander the garden a bit more now and dream of better gardening days ahead. And dream of once again having two strong sturdy shoulders.

Keep calm and garden on and take care of your body and each other.