Okay, I'll go first.

The original plan that sounded so good in the depths of winter was to expand the beds in the back of the house. Luckily, cold hard reality took hold of me (at least that sounds nicer than saying my husband whapped me upside the head) and I became convinced that it was a year for retrenchment, not expansion.

The first problem that I tackled was the washout area below one of our downspouts. At a seminar in early spring, I got the idea to create a dry streambed that would funnel the water through the bed without damaging the plantings. I bought a couple of bags of pea gravel and one of river rock. Of course, as I started digging out the area I found myself wondering why anyone who lived on a gravel hill felt they had to go BUY river rock. But the idea turned out ot be a winner; the streambed looks much better than the constant washout and the water-loving plants that I sited at the edges are all growing well.

Now I usually figure the summer is a success if I have one great garden idea that comes to fruition, so this year has been exceptional. There were several areas where we were losing the battle against the weeds. Fortunately, this was the summer that we learned how to smother the weeds with layers of wet newspaper and mulch. We have added new plantings to these beds, plants with names other than "Canada Thistle" or "Ragweed," and I can say now that we are turning to corner on these beds and things look much better than they did last year at this time.

So you know what that means? Now that I've got these problems taken care of, I can start planning to expand those beds next year.

V.

What I did in my garden all summer
By Poppa
Ms. Veronicums class

Hi. My name is Rob and I am a gardener.

If that sounds suspiciously like one of those 12 step programs to you, then I am glad you have been getting help, but I do not have a problem. I do admit to spending more time in the yard than anyone else I know. Sometime in May, I leave my wife. Sometime in October, I come in from the garden and return to my family. Full circle, like Mother Nature intended, not a problem.

This year has been a bit different though. I violated the cardinal rule of smart husbandry. When I left the house in the Spring I am supposed to have a list of tasks to accomplish, about an armÂs length worth. This yearÂs list was simply two things; start a formal vegetable garden and fix up the barn.

Now, excuse me, but I feel I need to stop and explain my theory of the difference between men and women here.

Men take a series of jobs and combine them into one without defining each step until itÂs time to tackle that step. It makes things simple and prevents one from being overwhelmed with all the tasks. Otherwise we would never start things we canÂt possibly finish. My "repair the barn" task really consisted of many steps: bracing the roof, ripping out the existing South wall, raising the foundation wall, rebuilding the South wall, adding a new entry to the tack room, refinishing the tack room, and ultimately organizing all the garden stuff, tossed in the barn. Throwing all that into one task makes it seem doable. ItÂs exactly why men think women complain too much about housework. ItÂs just one task.

Women, on the other hand, know every detail of every chore that needs to be done. Each task is outlined and organized, broken down into five tasks apiece, then reorganized so that sub-task 1a of Task A can be combined on the trip to accomplish sub-task 3m of Task W. So when a husband mentions he only has one task to accomplish the entire summer, she starts thinking that thereÂs some extra time available.

When I mentioned I only had two tasks, it is immediately countered with, "Oh! Then youÂll have time to plant me an herb garden this year!" As a man, I think that this is doable, and pledge body and soul to completing her simple wish. ItÂs only one task. As I look out the window to take a quick survey of where I can turn over a patch of dirt, the little lady hangs up the phone and announces that weÂre very lucky and the masonry supplier will have the patio brick delivered by the weekend (Task A) and she ordered enough to put in that front walk (sub-task m of Task W) we had talked about in the past the herb garden would look wonderful at the edge of the patio, framed by the stone wall which means digging out the back yard to give it a terraced look reseeding, finishing off the deck over the new patio and a fish pond off to the side.

Thank God itÂs just and herb garden, otherwise, I might not be able to fix the barn. ItÂs August, but it is just one more task.

Robert,

(you know us teachers, we always have to use formal names)

I will give you an A+ on your assignment.

Now, there's a minor issue with mixed tenses in the third paragraph of your assignment. I'll let that go. A larger problem may be the basic assumption underlying your essay, which is the difference between men and women. I question the validity of your assumption that the personality differences noted are sex-related because my spouse and I have the same issue, except he is the splitter and I am the lumper. If this is a gender issue, then one set of couples here has a big problem.

But I'm still giving you an A+ for the primary reason that YOU RESPONDED! Thank you, and the rest of the class will take a failing grade on this assignment. Make-up assignments may be submitted for consideration.

Ms. V.

Miss V, this is late because the dog ate the first version and I had to redo it.

This summer, I ripped out the lawn along the road at the front of my yard. I installed a gravel parking area right on the street, a brick path, and a 14' wide mixed border betwen the path and the remaining lawn. The brick path isn't done because I subcontracted it to my spouse, whose work ethic can be summed up: "It's too nice to work today, I'll be on my motorcycle." Sometimes it's kayaking, or playing the piano, it varies with the weather. I'd finish it myself, but I've proven to be a careless bricklayer.

The new area reflects a New England tradition of a streetside garden, minus the picket fence. It includes a boxwood hedge, groups of peony, heuchera, armeria, diathus, and gaura, a liquidambar rotundiloba, 2 franklinea, rosa 'the Fairy', ligularia dentata, crambe cordifolia, and some smaller players. It is currently running wild with verbena bonariensis and yellow daylily.

There were a couple of other projects, but this was the biggest and is closest to being finished.

Had I NOT discovered garden web this summer, there is just no telling what I might have accomplished.

Now, about the dog...

Dear Miss V.
I have been working on the assignment every day. But, I am not a writer. It takes a long time to look up all those big words in the dictionary. My Daddy was a garden writer. He had an article in every issue of the American Nurseryman for years. I have copies of all his writings carefully filed. They provide an unlimited source of ideas. Just wish I didn't trip over my prepositions.

I can just see you poised; your red pencil in hand, ready to pounce.... it is said that confession is good for the soul. You see, I don't garden in the summer! When the temperature begins to climb toward the 100 degree mark, with humidity to match, the garden gets a heavy mulching and my promise to return in the fall. Oh, I deadhead a few things, run some experiments, water the pots and encourage the plants to stay alive. Beyond that the real gardening enjoyment here in the coastal Low Country happens during the cooler months.

But, the good news is that I get to see other people's gardens during the summer. Lots of them. I live with a jazz musician who receives many invitations to play in various music Festivals. So, we hop a plane or pack the van with keyboard and laptop traveling off on a series of one-nighters around the country. We have just come off the road again from a tour through the rural south. This year I paid particular attention to 'redneck' landscaping.

It's very quiet out there along the backroads of the south. Oh, the big cities are hopping, booming with industry, choked with traffic. It's a different story in the small towns. The cotton fields are just coming into bloom. But, in town after town the high chain link fences around textile mills that once sustained the local population are locked tightly. Tall weeds have begun to push through blacktop parking lots.

I admired the freshly baled hay on one farmer's field. He had stacked the heavy, round bales beside the road, securing an American flag to many of them.

It is gratifying that southerners have taken to heart the idea of planting the front yard rather than growing grass. I saw many examples of Kudzu growing over the entire yard right up to the front steps.

Generally, there is very little gardening or landscaping along southern backroads. Ancient Crape myrtles in bloom, neatly mowed yards, a few perfectly trimmed shubs are the norm. Guess they don't garden in the summer, either. Of particular note is a newly installed small memorial garden in Cheraw, SC. dedicated to their hometown son jazz trumpet player, Dizzy Gillespie. A full size, handsome statue of Diz stands in the shade of large trees surrounded by well designed azalea plantings. A very nice scene. Just wish they had done this when he was alive! He was a wonderful character!

So, we travel and I look at gardens. Sometimes I will knock on a front door and ask if I can tour those of interest. Southern hospitality is wonderful. Many times I know about their family history by the time I leave. This is how I stumbled into a very unusual backyard garden. Although I had read about 'quilt' gardens, I had never seen one in person. It was unbelievable, dedicated to everything southern with eagle blocks, star blocks, flag blocks including the Confederate flag. What a labor of gardening love! Sadly, I was asked not to take pictures. The owner plans to tweak it a bit next year and enter it in a contest...sans the Confederate flag which is a touchy subject hereabouts these days.

On this last trip I hit the gardening jackpot! We drove through the famous furniture making town of Hickory, NC. and then straight up the mountain to Blowing Rock. This town is dug into craggy mountains with houses perched atop hairpin turns. And, everyone gardens in Blowing Rock. The whole town deserves the coveted Garden Design Trowel Award. It is overwhelming. Need to write an article about color in the garden? Just head to this amazing town in August for inspiration. I knocked on a lot of doors. Saw many beautiful landscapes. Community pride just shines in that town. Would that all towns could work together in the manner they have. What a diffence it would make. Okay, I'll behave and not get up on my 'Clean up America' soapbox. That's another story.

Here it is, Miss V. A story of wandering, observing and meeting wonderful gardening strangers who quickly become friends. Hope you will overlook the dangled participles. I tried!

I started off the summer with good intentions. Don't we all? Living in this tropical paradise of high heat and higher humidity shouldn't be a detriment to working in the garden, and it isn't always if you garden between two and three in the morning.
All of the gingers, butterfly and shell, were to be divided and the sago palms that had been sitting patiently in pots for the past five years were to go into the ground.
In the month of June we had over 20 inches of rain and that interrupted the part of digging. So, I satisfied myself with planting the huge pots on the patio and weeding, with my 9 year old Pekin duck right by my side gobbling each earth worm I overturned. Together we would weed the morning away while the doves sat peacefully in their nests overhead waiting for their babies to hatch.
In early July we had a week without rain so the gingers were thinned, and the shrimp plants which had taken over the corner of the yard were removed and given to gardeners who wanted them. Let them see what a jungle they will soon have. The same week the dove eggs hatched and twelve little bright eyes stared at me and my duck as we worked.
The palms were put in proper places so as not to poke one's eyes or body, the elderberry bushes were cut back and only the branches with berries for the birds were kept. I wanted to make wine with the elderberries but the birds beat me to them this year.
Then, on July 13, suddenly, my duck died. My son dug his grave under the kumquat tree and we had a short service through our tears. I placed a smooth stone with his name "Prim" on the grave.
And, I haven't had the heart to garden again in the back yard yet. Perhaps in the fall.

Very good students! I really don't have a red pen. I will take no points off for particles that dangle in the wind, infinitives that are split like an atom or commas that are strewn about like confetti.

Once upon a time in a place far, far away I worked for Ralph, the King of Commas. He was a stickler for the proper placement of commas and he ensured that all infintives were joined together, never to be put asunder by any man or woman. Someone once asked me how I could stand to work for him, but the reality was that he was not difficult to work with at all once you learned to police your commas and verbs.

And when I let something go to print with the wrong form of complimentary/complementary (who knew!) he was very gracious about it.

So three more A+'s. I am waiting for more. Live Oak Lady, I am sorry to hear about your loss.

Miss V.

Miss Veronicastrum,

I know you might think Im a know-it-all or snitchbut I cant help but report this to you.Poppas spelt your name wrong!!!!! I think marks should be taken off for thatMiss Veronicastratumer, I mean Veronicastrum. So I really think you should penalize Poppa..I even looked up your name and it does indeed mean the name of a flower how appropriate for our class.

Actually, I had a very bad nightmare last night, that I didnt hand my assignment in on timeand I knew I was going to get in troublefor it. I hope that is not the case, as I sent you a note telling you I was going abroadand therefore, I should be excused from the assignment till I get back.Im leaving in 10 minutes.

Maybe I was just worried about the assignment and that was the reason for the nightmarein any case I hope you dont report me to that serious minded headmaster (I mean principal) Mr. Inkheadmaster is what youd call him in EnglandI hear he is fond of using the cane.

Im bringing back Cadburys milk chocolates especially for you Ms. V.

Poppa dips Hotpink's ponytail in the inkwell.

Hotpink, I do hope that you have as pleasant a trip as possible, given the circumstances. I will be saving a seat for you right here in the front of the class, and I will deal with Mr. INK on your behalf.

Please take as long as you want with your assignment, as I understand that you are in trying circumstances at the moment.

Sincerely,

Miss V.

ps - how did you know about my fondness for Cadbury's milk chocolate? The milk chocolate flake is my particular favorite!

Suddenly, the last summer.
I have tried to explain the benefits of composting through three marriages with not much success. My interest has been met with derision and disgust. It was when Doreen, my third wife accidently ran over the village policeman that she suddenly decided she wanted to know more about gardening and composting in particular.
A well made compost bin containing at least one cubic yard of properly prepared ingredients will heat up within a few weeks and you can be shovelling rich crumbly humus in a matter of months. If you have a good starter, almost any organic material rich in nitrogen will do it, and then with a few wheelbarrows of kitchen waste mixed in, your compost will be ÔcookingÕ in no time at all. This summer I made a handsome wooden compost bin measuring six feet six by three feet wide and three times the length of a size 12 boot high. At the bottom I spread a thick layer of the remains from an earlier batch, then a layer of fresh grass clipping went in. Old Bill, the village policeman went in next with some straw from the ferrets cage and some chopped up vegetable waste was spread on top. I havenÕt turned the heap yet. Turning is a must if you want uniform composting.
Other than the mundane tasks of weeding edging and composting I have decided to build a pond, I already have the hole dug out and now I am just waiting for the urge to continue. It has been a good summer, so far.

> Turning is a must if you want uniform composting.

Is turning still necessary if it's a detective or some other kind of plainclothed officer?

Obviously you have to use the C.I.D (Compost In Darkness) method in such cases. Why, has your wife done something naughty too?

I was interested in the uniform/non-uniform question because I was thinking that if my husband didn't prove to be more useful as a bricklayer he might make perfectly fine compost.

My apologies for assuming that you were a man DTD.

All right class, this discussion has degenerated into composting bodies, so now you all have to sit up straight in your seats and listen to the tale of Miss V. and the Mystery Hole.

Once upon a time last summer, I had a neighbor down the road who ran a puppy mill, let his dogs run wild, beat his girlfriend and entertained the local motorcycle gang. One day I came home to find the dogs in my yard, and for no good logical reason I chased after them.

The dogs (six of them) headed into the woods down a path that we keep mowed. (Curving path for those who must know.) After a bit they disappeared, largely due to the fact that they were a lot more used to running than I was. I turned down a short spur off the main path to see if they had headed that way, thinking as I did so that I didn't remember this side path being there before.

When I got to the end of that little path, I didn't find any dogs but found something far more interesting. Someone had come along and cut squares into a clearing in the forest floor. The area that was marked off into these aquares measured over six feet long and at least three feet wide.

My mind immediately went into newsprint mode, and I could almost see the words in front of me: "The homeowner discovered what apppeared to be a shallow grave..."

I headed back to the house and phoned my husband and son to be sure that this was not something they had done. I also checked with the neighboring Boy Scout camp to see if this had anything to do with a new scouting badge. Negative responses all around. My husband advised me to call the sheriff.

The first young man who came out backed out of the woods pretty quickly. He decided it definitely had to be kicked upstairs to a higher authority. The next day, I had three plainclothes detectives show up.

They asked me to grab some shovels and they headed back into the woods with me. When we got to the spot, they looked down at their suits and dress shoes, then at my jeans and sneakers, and voted me the best candidate to begin digging.

I positioned the shovel along one of the lines of the squares, poised my foot on the edge of the shovel and gave it a good, hard shove.

THUNK! I hit wood.

At that point, I turned away and spent a few minutes contemplating the wisdom of having just eaten an Asiago cheese bagel moments before the detectives arrived.

Once the brave men were assured that I was ready to go on digging, we found out it really wasn't very hard to dig. Someone had used a sod cutter to cut the squares into the ground and they were very easy to lift off the wood with a pitchfork, uncovering a four foot by eight foot sheet of plywood.

At that point, I decided that I really shouldn't deprive these gentlemen of being the first to see what was under the plywood. They slowly pried it up to reveal . . . an empty hole.

But what an empty hole it was! It definitely was large enough to hold a body, and it had been reinforced with two-by-fours so that a deer or other critter crossing over it would not collapse it. It had been dug at least three feet deep through solid clay. The interesting thing was that there was no dirt pile anywhere around the hole; someone had bothered to haul away all the spoils.

In the end, the best theory was that someone was poaching deer in the woods and was using the hole to stash the carcass until they could come back unobserved with an ATV to haul out the meat. I still wonder about this, as someone went to a lot of trouble to build this hole. They hauled in a sodcutter, a sheet of plywood, various other pieces of wood and possibly a chainsaw or other brush cutting equiment to clear the path. They hauled out about three cubic yards of dirt, most of which was heavy clay. All of this trouble for a deer?

A couple of weeks later, the neighbor shot his girlfriend's cat, was hauled off to jail and his father sold the house. I see far less of the sheriff than I used to and have found no other unexplained graves, um, holes, ever since. The ex-girlfriend ended up in a Wisconsin jail on a parole violation, a new address that just may have saved her life if you ask me.

Miss V.

Now this is what I call educational. From this little tale of the macabre I have learned how to dress appropriately for digging in the garden, I have learned that a sod cutter is the best tool for cutting turf squares and that you push the edge of a shovel in the ground and not the flat. It has, most of all suggested an alternative to the, much slower composting method and for that I thank you V especially as that nasty detective was around here again today, an ATV you say?

Now Miss Veronica, you should have made those snappily dressed detectives do their own digging. Shame on them.
Fascinating story and I wouldn't go in the woods alone if I were you. I am surprised there is not more to this story; having worked in law enforcement I would have gotten to the bottom of it.

Yes, INK, an ATV. To haul a good-sized carcass you want to get one of the six-wheel models with a carrying bed in the back as opposed to the four-wheel models that are really more for playing in the mud.

V.

What I Did In My Garden This Summer...

I gardened myself in that I learned not to panic when things turn out less well than hoped for. There is always a next year.

Springcherry