I suppose that for most people one of the darker joys of gardening is that once you've got started it's not at all hard to find someone who knows a little bit less than you.

In a well-made garden every day is new.

I cannot walk into our garden without constantly being reminded of the friends who have shared their plants.

Of course, the character of my garden is also determined by things beyond any human decision, mine or anyone else's.

An angel, legend has it, took pity on a little shepherd girl who had nothing to give to the Infant Jesus in his manger. The angel handed her a weed, but first transformed it into this beautiful flower of winter.

Not knowing where your food comes from is a primary form of alienation.

Crabgrass is aptly descriptive of this hated weed, for it does scuttle quickly through a lawn.