Dig in to one the following stories and thank you for sharing your own gardening adventures, in the comments box:
It began in the flower-seed aisle at Carrefour, after tossing an extra packet of sunflower graines* into the shopping cart. I looked up at my husband's face to assess his disapproval. "You know you'll need to water them?" said he. (continued, here)
I am a slow learner, in many respects, and this may be why it took me so long to begin to know how to garden: truth is, it wasn't until my forty-first year that I learned how to make a dent in the earth. (continued, here...)
Our neighbor, Jean-Marie, stopped by the other day to drop off a forklift--something we needed for our latest mise-en-bouteille. While Jean-Marie was here, I took the opportunity to ask him a few questions about gardening. (continued, here...)
Braise-The-Dog has been banned from the garden after a series of "neck-breaking" no-no's (that is, if vegetable stems can be said to have necks). Bref,* here's a recap of her recent crimes... (continued here...)
Gardening's so much more fun... with friends...
As soon as I met Malou and Doreen ("the Dirt Divas"), they took me under their wings as they would take anyone with a longing to learn about plants, flowers and even cisterns! (continued, here...)
These things run through my mind as I type, fresh dirt beneath my fingernails, along this chattering clavier.
I hope my husband will be delighted by the changes taking place here at home: this, thanks to some jardinage!* After losing electricity, week before last, it finally occurred to me to throw all that nervous energy into digging... (continued, here)
...I tried to imagine where we would put the little olive tree amidst the tractors and piles of broken cement. Now six weeks into renovation, the front terrace of our farmhouse is a stockyard of old doors, wooden crates, and broken concrete. (continued, here)
One by one, I pulled the seed packets from the plastic sack. There were future crunchy radishes, melt-in-your-mouth betteraves,* cocktail onions, "Reminiscent of My American Roots" Corn, Charentais* Frenchy melon, sweet peas or "pois de senteur," Not-So-Loopy Lupine, Trailer Park Petunias... (continued, here)
The land on which I lie is one level down from the vineyard. It once held fruit trees... which became diseased, then a kitchen garden... and a few sunflowers (how I'd toiled in vain. Dragging the garden hose all the way out to the field... and how I'd stared, stunned to see the radish seeds up and march off indefinitely... thanks to an army of ants who saw an opportunity.) (continued...)
The French word "piquer" means "to swipe." It is my mom's favorite verb in French or English--not that she's a klepto--though you might call her a "clipper"...
In the town of Orange, Mom and I are studying plant life.... (continued, here)
Check back soon... more gardening stories are on the way!
Learning with The Plant Whisperer...
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For more online reading: The Lost Gardens: A Story of Two Vineyards and a Sobriety