Category Archives: Gardening

Alive To The Abundance

It’s July, high summer, and there have been rains and days of blue sky and at night the distant back-and-forth calls of the Barred owls. The yellow beans are foremost, the sweet onions, too, and soon coming are the heavy-set tomatoes and yellow sunflowers. Quetzal and her friend Christine have been swimming at Lucus Pond with the dogs, and baking shortbread, and we have been to the ocean in the early morning and likewise at night.

This morning a crow dropped into the garden for the one duck egg I threw out days ago. He landed, cocked his head and seemed to triangulate, hopped a few hops across the furrows, paused…and drilled that egg through. When I looked with binoculars, I could see egg-shine splashed across the length of his beak. And when he lifted and turned toward Pawtuckaway Mountain, I’m almost certain that shine was his only load.

Wherein My Wife Serita Takes a Turn

My wife Serita recently agreed to do a video for a kid’s news show called Channel One News. It aired last week, and I think it turned out great.

I will allow the video to introduce Serita and her work.

If you think really hard, you may see a connection between Serita’s work and my writing.

The video includes three stories. Serita’s is the third. It starts at 2:30. Continue reading

May the earth we live on likewise live within us

In driving rain yesterday, I sat out a new planting of asparagus, thinking several times as I worked to give it up until drier weather. But in the end I held on, and so the job was done and twenty-some asparagus crowns from New Jersey overnighted for the first here in New Hampshire.

And also yesterday in maybe even colder rain, I planted apple trees, old heirloom varieties I brought home on Saturday from Plainfield, Vermont. Consider for a second their names:

Westfield Seek-No Further
Ashmead’s Kernel
Black Oxford
Stembridge Cluster
Esopus Spitzenburg

Is life fine-tuned a bit when we look out the kitchen window and, seeing an apple tree, think Ashmead’s Kernel? when we say the words? Do the trees we live with, the plants, the architecture, the sounds, the predominate slant of the sun—do these things influence our lives in ways we don’t realize? Is working in rain actually a kind of gift? Is the coming of spring, the coming of spring, the reoccurring coming of spring profoundly more important than we understand?

Quetzal told me a week ago that she is going to “live like a wild child this summer.” I’m not sure what that means, but I’m all for it, and I suggest we join her as best we can.

May the earth we live on likewise live within us.

carry on, guys.

just in after having set out 144 cabbages in a fine light rain, the rows straight, the cabbages spirited, and me, the day done, with just enough energy to cabbage on

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Our Big Dena


Quetzal came skipping up yesterday mid-morning with both hands behind her back. She was glowing. “Which hand?” she asked.  “Left,” I said. She shook her head. “Right,” I said.  And so in slow motion she brought around her right hand and there it was, the season’s first, a perfectly ripe Big Dena tomato. We stared at it for a few seconds, and then she handed it off to me and we stared a while longer. It seemed like a new center of gravity, a small sun. Continue reading