Newsletter Articles & Archive

Get to know our 2025 Co-Recording Secrtary: VIcki Toth

What is your favorite thing about gardening?  

Being outside experiencing the tranquility and noticing the small things in the garden.  And in the end, the final product.  The beauty, simplicity, and how things can change overnight and from year to year.

What led you to become a master gardener?

My mother would introduce me to one of her friends and say, "You know, SHE is a MASTER GARDENER!"  I felt like it was such a special thing that I vowed to one day achieve that distinction as well.

What is your favorite thing about being a master gardener?

I have learned so much and continue to learn.  Every meeting, garden visit, and interaction with my fellow MGs serves as fuel to try new things.  And of course, the friendships and acquaintances that would never have developed without the Master Gardener experience.

What is your favorite memory during your time as a master gardener?

I am from the Class of 2023 and we had more fun in class - it was Amy's first year as well and it seemed so special.  I really missed the classes once they were over.  

What is your favorite season as a gardener?

Spring

How many years have you been gardening?

Since I was 7 years old and my father had an acre of vegetables that seemed to need weeding way too often.  

Have you always gardened in TN or did you start somewhere else? What is the same/different?

I started gardening in Western Michigan where it could frost as late as the end of May.  Memorial Day weekend seemed to be when everyone planted without fear of it freezing.  Also, it could snow in October so we picked ALL the tomatoes early, whatever color they were to avoid the freezing temperatures.

If you were moving and could only take one plant with you, what would it be?

If it were a tree, it would be my ginkgo.  My orchids would be my plant choice (indoor) and peonies (outdoor).

What are some staples that you will always grow in your garden?

Iris, peonies, echinacea, hydrangeas, asters, pentas, ferns, allium, lilies, lantana, daffodils, hibiscus, hollies, kniphofia, coreopsis, azaleas, and lots of herbs.  I love trying new things and try to have something new every year.  They don't always cooperate and we have lots of deer in and around our neighborhood so I must go with deer resistant plants.  They just started eating my hydrangeas this year, among other things!!

What is the most important lesson you have learned about gardening?

Each year is different depending on the weather and climate.  You can't always predict what will work and won't, but that is part of the fun, right?  So you start each season very hopeful and go from there.  

By: James Hearn

As Master Gardeners, our commitment to horticultural education naturally extends to contributing to scientific understanding. Our individual garden spaces offer unique opportunities to participate in broader research initiatives through citizen science. This collaborative approach allows us to collect valuable data that directly aids professional scientists in their studies of the natural world. It's a mutually beneficial relationship: we deepen our understanding of environmental processes, and we provide critical information that addresses real-world scientific questions.

There are numerous citizen science opportunities available to gardeners, many of which are directly relevant to pressing ecological concerns. For instance, observations of seasonal changes in plant and animal life, known as phenology, are crucial. By recording the timing of events like first bloom or leaf-out in our gardens, we contribute to national phenology networks. This vast dataset helps scientists track how climate change may be altering natural cycles, offering vital insights into how species are adapting or struggling to cope with shifting environmental conditions.

Beyond general phenology, many projects specifically focus on climate change monitoring. These initiatives might involve observing plant responses to unusual weather patterns or tracking changes in insect populations potentially linked to rising temperatures. Our localized observations, when aggregated with thousands of others, contribute to a comprehensive picture of these large-scale environmental shifts.

Recognizing the critical role of pollinators, extensive pollinator research relies on citizen contributions. We can assist by documenting insect visitors to our flowering plants, recording visitation frequencies, or identifying plant varieties that are particularly attractive to native bees and butterflies. This data informs scientists about pollinator health, helps identify at-risk species, and supports crucial conservation efforts, aligning perfectly with our mission to promote sustainable gardening practices.

Unfortunately, our gardens can also be sites where invasive species emerge. Participating in invasive species tracking projects empowers us to act as early detection specialists. By reporting new sightings of non-native plants or pests, we help researchers and land managers monitor their spread and develop effective control strategies. This vigilance is essential for protecting local ecosystems and, by extension, our cultivated landscapes.

To effectively participate in these valuable research efforts, several steps can guide us. The initial step involves finding appropriate research projects. Many universities, botanical gardens, and environmental organizations manage citizen science programs. Platforms like SciStarter are excellent resources for locating projects based on specific topics, geographic location, or time commitment. It's beneficial to select projects that align with our gardening interests and current activities.

Next, it's important to match your garden's characteristics to research needs. A small urban garden might be perfectly suited for a focused pollinator observation project, while a larger property with diverse plant life could contribute to broader phenology studies or invasive species surveys. No garden is too small or too informal; every observation holds potential scientific value.

Once a project is chosen, understanding and adhering to its reporting protocols is essential. Most programs provide clear, user-friendly instructions on what to observe, how to record data (often via online forms or dedicated smartphone apps), and the required frequency of submissions. Following these guidelines ensures the accuracy and utility of our contributions.

Lastly, beyond direct data submission, consider sharing and communicating your observations. While our data directly informs scientists, discussing our experiences with fellow Master Gardeners and our communities can amplify the impact of our citizen science work. Presenting findings, writing articles for local newsletters, or simply engaging in conversations about our participation helps fulfill our educational mission, demonstrating how everyone can contribute to valuable research and enhance their scientific literacy, all while engaging with the natural world in their own gardens.

With her blue hair and easy laugh, Rachel Esterday is a Class of 2025 intern who is easily recognized. Her interest and love for gardening started back in 2020 when she began following several gardeners on Instagram, and as she continued to learn from them she also had extra time to devote to gardening once the pandemic began. A desire to develop a slower pace of life that is more connected to the earth and her community grew in her after living in New York City for 10 years. Moving back to her hometown of Nashville in 2017, she left behind her busy city life as a photographer specializing in events like weddings and bar mitzvahs. In Nashville she initially worked with her father in his real estate business, serving as the director of the real estate school, but after several years decided a desk job didn’t fit the lifestyle she wanted. Now she works at Trader Joe’s, where you will find her in charge of the flower department, a job she enjoys both because of the flowers and her co-workers. Rachel also enjoys hiking in the Warner Parks and indoor climbing in her free time.

As a gardener, Rachel has learned to be more patient and trust mother nature in the natural process of growing plants. One winter she successfully grew broccoli in the winter which was a gardening win, but has struggled with planting spinach at the right time. Squash has also been difficult because of the amount of bugs her plants have attracted, and she was excited about the MG guest speaker on insects. She chooses vegetables based on whether she likes to eat them and would love to grow around 50% of her own food in the future. Along with gardening, she has an interest in learning to preserve the food she grows as she is concerned about the amount of food that is wasted on a regular basis. Flowers are also a part of her garden and she wants to add more in the future. Some of her goals are to plant more companion plants, attract pollinators,  and get better at “coexisting with nature.” Her plants are all grown in containers for now due to the many moles in her yard and her dog Pepper who also loves to dig in the dirt but in an unhelpful way. Rachel has volunteered in the garden at Belle Meade, which is close to her home, and hopes to explore other sites also as her work schedule allows. 

By Blake Davis

“The greatest fine art of the future will be the making of a comfortable living from a small piece of land.”
— Abraham Lincoln

“The trouble is, you think you have time.”
— Jack Kornfield

This article is about time.
But isn’t everything, in the end?

As a gardener, I rely so much on tools: hands, hoses, hori-hori knives, carts- But the most effective and most frustrating tool I have is time. The source of both growth and my deepest traumas. 

When my wife and I first looked at the home we now live in, she (a seasoned realtor and appraiser) focused on calculating valuation comps and appreciation projections. I, however, stood in the front yard, pointing to a towering 50-year-old Southern Magnolia (Magnolia grandiflora) with wild, scraggly limbs and a canopy large enough to hide a secret garden beneath it, saying “You can’t buy time!”

Our children dubbed it The Totoro Tree-a nod to the ancient camphor tree in a beloved classic Japanese children’s film where forest spirits live in a hidden hollow among the roots. 

I’ve never heard flutes or seen a cat-shaped bus emerge from ours, but it does offer wonder, summer fragrance, a buffet for pollinators and perfect climbing branches. 

Since moving in, my four-year-old son has helped me plant more Southern Magnolias in my back yard. “Only” four feet tall, these young trees -just like him- seem like seedlings next to The Totoro Tree. I told him that as he grows, these trees will grow with him, and someday, when they are both much older, he might be able to climb on them. 

What I didn’t say out loud: by that time, his daddy may not be around. 

The Long Shadow of Time

I don’t think I am unique as a gardener in reaching for the earth to work through complex internal issues that I’m not yet able to articulate. Tending my garden I nurture my soul. I turn the soil, pull out stunted or diseased mindsets, examine their roots, and cut back invasive thoughts that block the light from penetrating and energizing the ideas I want to grow. I try to water the perspectives that bring beauty into the world, amending the soil to nourish areas that benefit my family, my community and our future. 

I grew up with a diagnosis that told me I wouldn’t live to see adulthood, so I spent my life like a gardener racing winter – planting fast, building frantically, striving to see something bloom before the frost came. 

But a few years ago, a breakthrough treatment was developed that changed the prognosis.
For the first time, there is a good chance I might live into my 50’s, 60’s or beyond. For me, the last several years have been like watching fall begin to turn, but instead of winter, spring began again. 

Friends ask what that feels like. I’m still digging for the answer.
It’s taking years for my internal clock to recalibrate. Where I once planted with frantic urgency to account for the coming freeze, I’m learning to plant magnolias with the hope I might one day sit beneath them with my son. 

Depth Over Speed

The race against time is still engrained in me. I want fast, tall, brightly blooming plants. I don’t want to wait the years it takes for beneficial natives to establish with minimal blooms, even if their work behind the scenes is vital and deeply rooted.  

Two years ago, I drove to McMinnville, TN (considered the “Nursery Capital of the World”) to buy the largest hydrangeas I could find because I wanted blooms- big and fast.

And they delivered. 

Last week I came home from traveling to find a staggering number of flowers. So abundant and large it’s impossible for me to keep up. My kids and I cut them for neighbors, guests leave with handfuls and delivery drivers drop off packages but leave with cups of flowers in their trucks.
And the blooms just keep coming. 

I love it. I’m also beginning to see this kind of planting differently.
These blooms were bought, not cultivated.

We are gardeners, we know the patience required to tend slow growers. But I’m still learning to trust time. I didn’t understand the impact of slow growth. So, I bought maturity. I rushed the blooms. I shaped the yard to match my urgency. 

A Legacy of Gardening

Last week, sitting in rocking chairs side by side, I told my mother -the writer who taught me everything I know and still ruthlessly wields her red pen on my writings– about this subject I’ve been trying to wrestle into words.

I asked her what gardens she remembered, and how gardening has changed in her nearly 80 years. 

She led me back in time through memories vivid enough to be weeks old: Her maternal grandparents garden in Tallahassee with clear scents of Saint Augustine Grass and Confederate Jasmine. A canopy of forsythia bent low enough to make a magical tunnel connected to her earliest childhood memories. The taste of preserves made from freshly picked figs at her paternal grandparent’s farm in South Georgia. A giant dogwood that stood in her father’s yard with a hidden alcove under its canopy “Much like your Totoro Tree,” she said- where she’d go to hide when her siblings were bickering. 

What brought it all into place for me was her memories when she was a little girl tagging along with her father as he drove throughout South Georgia, visiting the graves of their ancestors and taking cuttings from the plants growing by their headstones.
Those cuttings have passed through time. I clearly remember the bushes lining my grandparent’s walkway- never knowing they came from graveside cuttings. 

The walkway to my grandfather’s house in rural South Georgia, lined by boxwoods- taken from gravesite cuttings 70+ years ago.
In the background are camellia bushes started as cuttings from my great grandmother’s garden in Tallahassee, which, in turn, grew from cuttings taken from her own mother’s garden.
I happened to take this picture when my mother and I were driving through the area roughly 20 years ago, long before I knew the history.

“Gardens today are made to be showcases,” she said. Explaining that in my grandparents and great grandparents’ day they didn’t have places to buy showy, bloom-ready plants grown on fields of landscape fabric, in pots with shallow roots or girdled growth, then shipped in a box truck hundreds of miles to stores and nurseries. 

They took cuttings. From grandparents. From neighbors. From chapels. From family cemeteries planted in grief by long deceased ancestors. They rooted them, let them adapt slowly as they reached into the family soil. They cross-bred plants and named new ones after friends and relatives. She told me there’s a Nelle Demilly camellia in Tallahassee’s Kilearn Gardens named after my great, great grandmother.
They watched over years as the plants became a part of the family’s narrative, rooting generations of gardeners into a story now told to me from a rocking chair on a balmy June afternoon. 

What Am I Leaving Behind?

Modern gardening plays right into my time-based trauma. It rewards fast results and curb appeal.
I know how to pick the biggest plants with the healthiest roots, spread some 10-10-10, automate the watering line and walk away expecting it to thrive, fast-forwarding intimacy, history, story and legacy. 

I don’t believe there’s anything particularly wrong with this in moderation. But I am a Master Gardener. I’m learning to grow more than plants. I’m learning to grow memories. I’m learning to root in relationship. I’m learning to let the yard shape me- planting native seeds that need cold stratification and time. They may never burst with color, but their roots will grow deeper, stronger, benefitting the water, the soil and the ecosystem. Shaping themselves to expand the yard, benefitting those who will come after me, regardless of whether I get to pick and eat the fruit alongside them. 

I want to garden like my great grandparents, like their children. Like my mother did. Personally. Meaningfully. Patiently letting the roots grow alongside the story of my family.

I want my son to learn to wait. I want him to let the space shape him as he grows, crowning towards the light, shyly letting other trees share the sun. Less showy. More rooted. Fully aware. 

He may not remember the conversations with his daddy while planting. But I pray, years from now, he finds himself under the magnolias we planted -the baby Totoro Trees- telling his son about how he used to hide there when his siblings were bickering. 

And maybe, just maybe, I’ll be sitting in a rocking chair beside him, still able to remember the smells of the gardenias on my grandfather’s farm in Georgia, or the lilac in my front yard gifted by my wife’s aunt, who took it as a cutting from her great grandfather’s garden. 

After all, we can buy as many trees as we want… but we can’t buy the memories of planting them together. 

This and the first (Magnolia) picture was taken by Sara Kerhoulas (https://www.instagram.com/sara_kerhoulas_photo)

Master Gardener Reflection:

This summer, beyond giving fresh blooms, I’m going to try propagating plants… not to plant in my own yard, but to give away to family, friends and neighbors.

To pass on something rooted in time.
To help someone else turn over their soil.
To grow a memory that can outlive me.

If you want to join me, I don’t have much, but I have some rooting hormone, some perlite, and a slowly growing trust in time, and isn’t that everything a gardener could want?

By Blake Davis

“What is a weed? A plant whose virtues have never been discovered.”-Ralph Waldo Emerson

I’m convinced my whole street thinks I’m crazy.
My neighbor whose backyard abuts mine (so obviously I call them my “butt-neighbors”) told me last week their dog doesn’t even bark anymore. It's so accustomed to the thumps and scrapes of my digging as my headlamp bobs like a tired firefly at the back of my yard at 11pm.  

 I recently visited a friend at their new home, looking over his backyard he told me “Every time I come out here, I ask myself: what would Blake do with this yard?”
I said, “Oh, that’s easy. I would overextend myself.”

I would call that my garden specialty. 

Whenever I see an announcement of a Master Gardener tour, I say “I’d love to do that…. Once I get caught up”.
I’ve been saying that for 4 years now.

I hear these sage gardening proverbs like “One year’s seeds, seven years’ weeds.” and “The best time to plant a tree was ten years ago.”
So I need to stay ahead of the weeds, while planting trees, prepare for spring, lay drip lines for summer, start mowing, oh and I’ve got that plant I kept alive in a pot all winter I need to get into the ground.
I don’t know where to begin, so I’ll just start a new, completely unrelated project.

My son, exceptionally excited, helps me with a project

If I asked my counselor to pinpoint the root of my anxious ambitions, she’d ask a sassy question like “Blake can you think of any traumas in your life that might manifest itself in striving to overachieve by pressing against time even at the cost of overextending your body?”
To which I’d say something like “Ugh, shut up Patricia with your… wise and smart counsel.”

I’ve got a great resume of potential factors: Diagnosed ADHD (my ‘quirky gift’), born with a terminal disease with a 25-year life expectancy, experimentally homeschooled, and sleep deprived with three kids under five- to name a few of the big-hitters.

So that’s why this spring I participated in “No Mow Month”, a project promoted by the Cumberland River Compact to support pollinators by letting your yard grow wild. 

I’m all for it, I love bees, I am fully invested in our Mason Bee program.
But let’s be real: Someone will deliver a sign to my yard that tells my neighbors it’s only out of control for NOBLE reasons?
“I’m not behind, I’m saving the pollinators!... just ignore the squirrel horde of unfinished projects behind that curtain.”

But here’s the thing: as my front yard grew wilder, I discovered which areas were weeds, and which had native plants I’d been mowing over every year to keep up with my neighbors.

While rushing to and from garden tasks, I found myself stopping and sipping my coffee as I watched mason bees flit around the tall grass, as dew soaks into my socks through my ugly green crocs. My wife has commented that there seem to be fewer mosquitoes this year, and I can’t describe the feeling that first mow evoked once the month was finished.

The mess of my unmowed yard forced me to realize I was rushing because I wanted to prove I had control of things, not because it’s what I -or my garden- really needed. 

 But life, like the huge tree that fell on my fence last week, has a tendency to remind us that even the most meticulously laid drip line or brightest headlamp can not ensure our plans will succeed.

Me, probably wondering why I can’t seem to get anything done at the moment

My family welcomed a new baby in October, and just days later, our best friend was killed while running on the Mill Creek Greenway.
Grief and a third child stripped away any illusions I had of control over my life, and as we navigated through the hurricane of emotions, the joy of new life and the chasm of loss, we decided our focus for this year would be ‘no striving’.

Now anytime I start to talk about my garden tasks from a perspective of frustration or anxiety, my wife asks me: “Is your garden a place of rest, or a place of striving?” 

Rest is not natural for me. I get so fixated on what is unfinished that I forget to sit and enjoy the garden I’ve grown.

No Striving

So this year, I’m learning how to focus on my blooming hydrangeas without obsessing over the crabgrass popping up in the mulch at its base. I’m trying to stop comparing my garden (or my life) to some idealized perfection I’ve built in my own mind.
I’m forcing myself to stop and sit quietly and really look at what’s growing.

 This is my challenge to myself this year:
When working in my garden, I walk as slowly as I can. Training my mind and body to keep focused on the journey across my yard, noticing every small bud I usually rush by on my way to fulfill tasks.
I’m scheduling one day each month to be an active visitor in my garden: I’m not allowed to pull weeds, move yard structures, dig, mow, spray or prune. Just be present, rest, and play with my kids in the space we’ve worked so hard to grow.  

Sometimes my gracious wife still has to call me out when my mind gets consumed by my garden tasks. My butt-neighbor’s dog may still see some lights in my backyard, but now it’s me, six-month-old strapped into his backpack, stomping through weeds and catching fireflies with my 2 and 4 year old children.

The “third time is a charm” may apply to many things, but for one MG intern it was the third time she submitted an application that she was finally accepted for a class. Persistence is something that Amy Peterson has in abundance, whether in her passion for gardening, her career or her volunteer work. 

Shortly before Covid hit in 2020, Amy moved into a new house and soon found herself with extra time and a place to garden. Her mother had enjoyed container gardening but that was her only real experience planting and growing things outside up to that point. She learned quickly that she loved having her hands in the dirt and experimented with lots of plants, and also discovered she had lots to learn when some of the plants didn’t survive. The owner of a plant store near her home turned into a friend and garden buddy as they talked often during the pandemic and would share ideas and plants and make trips to McMinnville together. Amy says having a friend who owns a delivery truck is a wonderful thing! Describing herself as a “cramscaping chaos gardener,” Amy still loves to choose new plants she loves for her garden and see what happens, but is also becoming a big believer in the concept of Right Plant- Right Place. She values the knowledge she is gaining in the MG classes and plans to put her garden on the garden tour. One part of caring for her yard she does not like is lawn care so she leaves the mowing, edging and everything related to others. Her newest yard project is adding a small pond where a dead Crape Myrtle was removed and she hopes to fill it with native aquatic plants.

Amy works full-time in the trust and wealth management area of banking and has over 20 years in the field.  When she applied for the MG class in the past it was for night classes and she is happy she could arrange her work schedule to attend the Tuesday morning sessions.  She also serves as the President of the Tennessee Kidney Foundation Board of Directors, a local non- profit that seeks to raise awareness of kidney disease and provide education, assistance and other resources to persons in middle TN. This is a topic very near to Amy’s heart, as her father had kidney disease and she donated a kidney to him.  

Although not a native Nashvillian, Amy has lived here since 1995 and has developed a strong circle of friendships that she greatly values. Kayaking on the Buffalo River and trips to the beach are two of her favorite things to do with friends, but an ideal weekend for her would start with a cool and rainy Saturday morning with no plans and turn into a sunny afternoon where she could play in the dirt as long as she wanted. 

In addition to the gardening knowledge she is gaining, Amy also appreciates the community of Master Gardeners and how accepting and friendly everyone is. Future classes of Master Gardeners are sure to say the same when they meet Amy Peterson.

If your site has poor or degraded soil, raised beds and containers can be a great way to grow home vegetables and small fruits. Raised beds can be built from kits or with do-it-yourself instructions. Wood, metal, composite materials, concrete blocks, and even rocks can all be used.

A common bed width is 4 feet if accessed from both sides, and 2 to 3 feet if accessed from one side. Beds are generally constructed 6 to 12 inches deep but can be deeper. Shallow-rooted crops, such as lettuce, spinach, kale, and other leafy crops, may be produced in beds that are only 4 to 6 inches deep. Taller and deeper-rooted crops, such as tomatoes and peppers require deeper beds. A  smaller volume will retain lower amounts of water and nutrients. Since raised beds drain more rapidly than nearby level soil, deeper beds can decrease watering frequency.

You can purchase raised bed mixes if your soil is not ideal. These mixes should have a range of  particle sizes to support drainage and be free from weed seeds and pathogens. Remember they will need to be watered and fertilized more frequently than in-ground gardens!

Great crops for raised beds and small spaces:

• Spring crops: Lettuce, radishes, beets, Swiss chard
• Summer crops: Bush beans, peppers, determinate tomatoes, summer squash, trellised cucumbers
• Fall crops: Cabbage, kale, spinach, carrots, lettuce
• Fruit crops: Strawberries, compact blueberry, and raspberry

By James Hearn

So we're out there in our gardens, getting our hands dirty and trying out cool experiments. But to really make sense of what's happening – and to share what we learn with others – we gotta be a bit organized about how we collect our info. First off, it's super helpful if we can all agree on some basic ways of looking at things – what we're watching for and how we're noting it down. Having some standard ways to observe makes it way easier to compare notes later, you know?

Then there's the whole measuring thing. Whether we're checking how tall our tomatoes are getting or how many bees are buzzing around our flowers, it helps if we all measure things in a similar way. No need to get all super scientific about it, but just being consistent with our rulers or counting methods makes our results way more useful.

When it comes to actually writing stuff down, we've got options! Some of us might love our trusty notebooks and garden journals – there's something cool about jotting things down by hand right there in the garden. But hey, digital tools are awesome too! There are apps for tracking all sorts of stuff, and even just using a simple spreadsheet on our phones or tablets can make life easier. And don't forget photos! Snapping a few pictures can really show what's going on in a way words sometimes can't. Plus, it's great for sharing later! Keeping a good garden journal, whether it's on paper or digital, is key for remembering what we did and what happened. It's like our gardening diary, but with a purpose!

Luckily, there are some neat tech tools out there to help us out. There are smartphone apps that are specifically designed for tracking garden stuff – everything from plant growth to pest sightings. And if we're working on bigger projects, there are citizen science platforms where we can share our findings with actual researchers – pretty cool, right? Sometimes, if we're curious about something specific, we can even poke around in online research databases to see what the experts have already learned. And it's always great to connect with other gardeners online through collaborative research networks to swap tips and see what everyone else is discovering. So, by being a little thoughtful about how we collect and keep track of our garden info, we can all learn more and share some really useful stuff!

By Kay Gragg

Growing vegetables in an urban setting presents several challenges which the gardener must handle, some of which are easier to overcome than others. Foremost among them is limited space. Although there are some local master gardeners who have access to several acres, most of us are not so lucky. 

 My own home, for example, is located in a West Nashville neighborhood where houses were built in the 1960’s on quarter-acre lots.  The backyard includes two large maple trees which provide welcome shade from the hot summer sun. Unfortunately, this also leaves few areas which receive the required 6-8 hours of full sun needed to grow most vegetables. My garden, which is roughly 8 x 12 feet, is tucked behind the attached garage and just a step away from the covered back porch.

With such a small space, some planning is needed to prevent overcrowding or allowing tall plants to shade shorter ones as the sun moves overhead. I have found the easiest method to be dividing my garden into four equal quadrants. Since it takes longer for the corner nearest the house to receive full sun, I have devoted that quadrant to herbs---rosemary, thyme, oregano, sage, chives, and mint. The other three quadrants are for the vegetables I grow; crops are rotated every year.

In order to optimize space, my focus is on those plants which grow upwards instead of along the ground.  One quadrant is always reserved for tomatoes. In years past I have grown as many as six plants but have recently settled on four.  Not only does this improve production of fruit, but it also allows better access for plant maintenance and harvesting. I stake each seedling when it is planted and add wire cages for support. In between, I plant basil, the perfect companion plant for tomatoes.

The second quadrant is for peppers---bell, banana, and sometimes cayenne or jalapeno. I stake these as needed when they grow taller. The third quadrant is reserved for green pole beans, preferably Kentucky Wonder. For this crop, I build teepees by tying three tomato stakes together and securing vines to them as they climb skyward.  If you have ample room, you may choose to plant squash as a companion plant in sunny spots around the bottom of the beans.

My final crop is cucumbers, which I plant along a wooden A-frame trellis. It can be positioned either between two quadrants or in one of the sunny corners. I also choose to sprinkle zinnia and cosmos seeds liberally along the wire fence which encompasses my garden to attract pollinators.

By Ellen Wright

Years ago, my now 93 year old mother-in-law won awards for flower arrangements and took classes in ikebana (Japanese flower arranging, translated as “giving life to flowers”). I have done neither, but, over the years, I have tried to pay attention, not only to her arrangements, but to those of my good friends who are pros at this art. Consider this article, then, as a jumble of my collected observations and tips, not as gospel.

I always begin with seeing what my yard will yield up; it’s the best sort of challenge for making an arrangement, especially in winter. You’d be amazed at what you will find: beautiful autumn leaves (especially maples, but also Ginkgo, sweetgum, and Parrotia), colorful berries (winterberry [Ilex verticillata], beautyberry [Callicarpa americana]), seed pods or pine cones (lotus, sweetgum), herbs (rosemary, oregano in bloom, lavender, blooming chives), all manner of greenery (Aucuba, boxwood, magnolia)- you get the idea. Over the years, I have tried to source and install plants with year round interest and color.

Of course, you can always buy all of the above, if your garden isn’t forthcoming, and I always have to buy showy flowers, if I need more than a few or if they are something we (I) can’t grow here.

First things first: condition your flowers, especially if they are bought. Fill a bucket with tepid water, cut stems at a 45 degree angle, remove lower leaves, and submerge the stems deeply for at least several hours. You may add flower food.  Keep them out of the sun and in a cool(ish) spot.Some flowers may require extra or special treatment. TIPS: if a hydrangea droops, cut a bit off the stem and put it in hot water for a bit. Tulips will keep growing in the vase- who knew? Either let them beautifully curve downward, or keep cutting the stems.

Next, assemble your equipment: vase(s), skinny florist tape (green or clear; Scotch tape in a pinch) for criss-crossing the vase top to keep stems from falling together,  clippers and/or pocket knife, pebbles/marbles for anchors in the  bottom of the vase, oasis if needed for a capacious vessel, frogs, Clorox (in a glass bottle with a dropper, or a few freehand drops if you have a steady hand) for keeping the water clear. You won’t always need all of these, but it’s nice to keep them on hand.

Ready to roll! What do you envision? Big and splashy?  Small and dainty? Field to table? Portable or not? Choose your container accordingly. Like perusing your yard, combing through your cabinets for pitchers and glassware

can provide inspiration. Do you want to color block the arrangement, grouping like flowers together, or do you prefer an even mix? Sparse or voluptuous?

Remember, for a dinner party, those heady lily aromas might fight with the food, and you’ll want either very low vases or very tall, so your guests can see one another across the table.

If you have them, begin with structure- woody stemmed plants, circled vines, or plants with branching. This will help anchor the design, making it easier to insert the single stemmed flowers. Mop head hydrangeas can be a great support, if they are cut short, and hellebores (with their big leaves) are also a good option, especially around edges.Finally, I think a spot of white or red is often helpful in a mixed bouquet. Let your imagination go! Here are a few pictures from my efforts over the years. Some are bought flowers (ranunculus, sunflowers, roses, some lilies, proteas); others are from my garden.  The last photograph is the work of a professional (Jim Knestrick)- a spectacular arrangement from my daughter’s wedding. I think it is the best of a natural look, and one to aspire to, using both exotics and natives.

Splendor of late summer- Japanese anemones, from the yard.

Bought sunflowers and proteas, with variegated Solomon’s seal from the yard.

Yard in spring (Virginia bluebells, daffodils, stinking hellebores, peonies, Euphorbia) and summer (zinnias, see-through Verbena, mountain mint, variegated Soloman’s seal, dahlias, hydrangeas [Annabelle and Pinky Winky], bachelor buttons, daisies, hardy begonia, crape myrtle, cone flowers)

^{Bought materials for fall (structural) and spring (simple, with added magnolia.)}

Lovely simplicity. Fragrant, too!

For a party- Mix of bought (sweet peas, roses) and yard, including daffodils, greenery, hydrangeas, and a peony or two.