Kiss the Earth

Earlier in the week, looking at all those piles of stuff in the Convention Center, I wondered whether the Flower Show would look like a show by the time it opens on Sunday. After walking the floor this afternoon, I'd say they're well on their way. It's shaping up - literally.
Lots of happy noise in there. Rock music, traditional Irish music, hammering, electric carts zipping around and the back and forth of bulldozers. This is major work.
Plenty of folks are wearing party hats - green, of course - Irish step-dancers are practicing on the stage behind the castle (we all stop to watch) and you can tell who's been here awhile from the Chinese takeout on the tables.
This is a purposeful crowd. Not frantic. Tired but friendly, amazingly industrious. The air is chilly, for the plants, lights bright, with a faint fragrance in the air. It's so familiar ... part sawdust and dirt, part sweetness. Just like spring, I'd say.

Whew! I'm going to have to sharpen my elbows. It's crowded in there. It's a mellow crowd but a crowded crowd, especially around the stage behind the castle. That's where Ragus is performing, a troupe of traditional Irish dancers and musicians. They're young and handsome, full of energy and dressed in black sequined costumes. Very lively and the crowd is loving it.

One thing I was able to see before the people tsunami nearly swept me away was the Mens Garden Club of Philadelphia's "Best in Show" award in the nonacademic educational category. I talked with some of the guys last week as they put this exhibit together - a snapshot of a typical Irish village they named Ballygael. They built a woolen shop, a jewelry store and a pub they named Tommy's Pub.

There is a sad backstory to all this. The pub was named for Tommy Hays, Jr., a young man with many interests who died in his bed in December of causes yet to be determined. Tommy was a volunteer firefighter in Narberth, as well as a junior member of the men's garden club. His dad, Tom Sr., was a founding member of the club.

One of Tommy's roommates, Owen Marshall, came by to see how the pub was progressing on his day off last week. He told me Tommy was a great guy, "kind of a goof ball but someone who always helped me out when I needed it." He was 25 when he died. The two friends became volunteer firefighters together when they were seniors in high school.

Owen says he misses his buddy. "We're all brothers down there at the fire house," he said.
Check out the firefighter helmet in the pub, which looks so authentic I almost sat down and ordered a pint.

Lots of things about the Flower Show are on a grand scale: Forest, castle, giant flowery portal and knot garden, huge exhibits. But I find myself fascinated by the little things. In the jewelry category for exaxmple, artists have made Celtic ring brooches from berries, seed pods, stems and leaves. It's remarkable. Lots of women hovering around these displays.

Hollis Bauer, of the Garden Club of Trenton, won first place _ "magnificent!" was the judges' comment _ for a brooch fashioned from trumpet vine pods, seeds of wisteria, mustard and coriander, and eucalyptus. It's bold and beautiful. How'd you like that on your poncho?

Jane Kilduff, of the Wissahickon Garden Club, won third prize in a category called "necklaces based on a Celtic fairy story" for a piece made of brilliant blue hydrangea blossoms. There are bracelets fashioned from shelf fungi and magnolia leaves, or lentils, pine needles and gourd seeds. I think it takes a special person to look in the garden and see the makings of a bracelet or necklace.

Another group of entries were tiny boxes made from plant material. Lynn Cook and Troy Ray of the Greater Philadelphia Orchid Society took first place with a teeny box that looked like something a miniature Cinderella (on the upside of her evening) would be ferried about in. They created their box from grapevine tendrils, an acorn cap, a poppy pod and twisted rush. You just have to see this one to believe it.

What you or I would toss in the composter, other more artistic souls see as the building blocks for unique artworks. These folks must have patience, concentration and hands the size of ... a leprechaun.

Usually, the only pots you hear about at the Flower Show are the kind you plant stuff in. Today, though, melting pot came to mind as I looked at and listened to the visitors. We were moving around the show like a multicultural scrum, and there they were: Amish, Muslims and Hasidic Jews, ladies from the Red Hat Society, the young, the old, all kinds and colors of people cruising around, inching along in walkers and rolling by in wheelchairs. There are exceptions to every rule, but just about everyone likes flowers and you can see that everywhere you look here.

I walked by the Camden City Garden Club's exhibit - club members run the Camden Children's Garden - just as a tiny pair of pink sneakers disappeared into the stem of a fanciful toadstool in the exhibit, whose theme is "A child's imagination - faeries in the garden." You have to look closely to see the tiny faerie houses built into tree stumps and to imagine how, in faerie lore, tulips served as beds for babies. I know, you laugh and think this is all a bunch of hooey. But I am surprising myself. I loved these little faerie beds, and the faerie homes built into the landscape of the Ealain Wood (in photo, along with tiny clothesline), which you see through the flower-filled portal coming into the exhibition hall.

People are oohing and ahhing over these features. All kinds of people. That's one of the reasons I like coming here. No matter what you do for a living, whether you're a woman of a certain age who favors red hats, whatever your faith or feelings, and even if you're a Very Important Person, if you're here, you're just like me and everyone else. You love flowers.

As a P.S. as I sign off for today, I want to introduce you to Paula Amand (in photo), a tiny lady who has been selling bulbs as H. B. Co. from Grand Island, N.Y., at the Philadelphia Flower Show for 50 years. (She's been married to Adolphe for half a century, too.) They'll be honored on Wednesday by the Pennsylvania Horticultural Society, which puts on the show. Adolphe is ill and stayed home this year, but Paula soldiers on.

Asked what's changed in five decades of selling bulbs at the show, she shrugs."Taste in bulbs doesn't change. Bulbs are bulbs," she said. "Just like people are people." I think she meant to say: Flower People.

Today begins with a big chill, but when I arrive before 9 a.m. there are show-goers sitting in the lobby waiting for the doors to open. By 10, the halls seem instantly jammed. Weather be damned!

I've spent some time thinking about the other side of the Flower Show - not the big showy exhibits, which are fun, but the ones that, pardon the expression, kiss the earth. The students at Delaware Valley College in Doylestown know what I mean. They've put together an exhibit called "Sustainable Home Landscape," and it's one of my favorites.

"Sustainable" is a word tossed around a lot by people who care about the environment, but what does it mean in practical terms? "We're rethinking how we live our lives," says Del Val senior Lee Pouliot of Chicopee, Mass. That means recycling everything in sight, using less water and other forms of energy and saying no to harsh chemicals in the home and garden.

The students, who were cited by judges for their creativity, know how to draw a crowd, too. They've made interesting use of old bicycle parts. People are delighted by their bicycle chair - woven inner tubes for a seat, two bike seats for the backrest and upside down handle bars for the bottom of the chair. Sounds grotesque as I describe it but it's just wonderful. As is their chandelier, complete with little crystals hanging down, made from a bike wheel. (See photo.)

Time to motor off for more show.

Nobody goes to the Flower Show for laughs, but there's plenty of humor here. And you don't have to go far to find it. I stopped by the horticultural society's "Plant and Gardening Questions" booth to chat with volunteer answer lady Nanci Walsh. She's answered questions about orchids and deer-resistant plants, but I wonder, "What's the most common question you're getting?"

"Where's the bathroom?" she says.

An entry in the new Venerable Plant category looks like a giant dust bunny (in photo) or maybe a gray-haired Beatles wig that went through the wash by mistake. Its botanic name was hard to decipher but nobody was even looking at the tag. "I know you're not supposed to touch it but I just had to," says a woman who looks around and then touches this funny looking thing and races off.

This prompted John Chisdelk of Moosic, Pa., to share the fact that he tossed his 30-year-old aloe plant last fall and misses it still. He and wife Mary bought it when they were first married. But after years of living in a sunroom next to the wood stove, it had gotten way too heavy and unwieldy. So he got rid of it. "I kept my wife but let the aloe go," he said. He keeps about a dozen aloe leaves in the freezer for when he burns himself.

"Ever get burned?" I ask. "Yeah, on the wood stove," John replies.

Why is it that when people see an insect, their first impulse is to squash it? I happen to love bugs and turns out, only a very small proportion of them are dangerous. This nugget is brought to you by Penn State Cooperative Extension in its exhibit "Landscape Horrors," which gets my vote for straight talk.

Take "Little Miss Application." We all know gardeners like this - maybe even ourselves. She needs a quick fix for her landscaping problem, something that works in, like, a weekend. Unfortunately, says Penn State, this usually involves chemicals. Asking for an environmental disaster.

How about "Dude, where's my house?" You plant trees along the driveway. Don't they look great? Fast forward a few years. Oops. Can't see the house for the trees. Or "Anatomy of a Murder." Cutting off the top of a tree invites decay, disease and weak growth. And here's one you see a lot - "the mulch volcano," mulch stacked up against the trunk of a tree. It's as bad as topping.

"A Mower Runs Through It" deals with a common practice - bagging up those grass clippings as if they're toxic waste instead of rich, nutritious food for your lawn. Let them be.

Same with bugs. And that's the takeaway. Love bugs.

As I write this, it's snowing ever so lightly, and while there were show-goers waiting to get in before the 10 a.m. opening yesterday, today the waiting area is empty. But the sidewalks around the Convention Center are clear and if you can get here, look at the bright side. This is a perfect time to come. You'll beat the crowds.
Someone just popped her head in the press room here and asked, "Are you the coat check lady?" Must be a friend giving me the business, I thought. Nope. It was a garden club person. (I wasn't much help.)
Anyway, very little stops this show from going on. Since it began in 1829, it's been held every year but a handful, and there were some pretty heavy-duty reasons for cancelling. World wars, blizzards ...
Attendance at this year's show is running a bit above last year, organizers say, though they have no firm numbers yet. That could change today. But perhaps those who stay away this morning will come another day. The show goes on.

Gardening experts are forever telling us to highlight different textures in our choice of plants. That sounds good, but sometimes it's hard to know what's what. Looking at some of the entries in the competitive classes here at the show, I started to consider plants with that in mind. Not sure I could translate this into a harmonious, yet varied, selection in my own garden or home just yet, but it's fun to think about.

In the rock garden category is a weird little beauty called Monanthes polyphylla. (See photo above.) It grows wild in the Canary Islands and, come to think of it, looks pretty wild here in the Convention Center. Small, low-rise bumps fill a pot, sort of a brownish-green moonscape, very odd. You'll never find that description in print, but people here were talking about it that way.

They also linger in front of the formal flowering or fruiting plant category, in which a giant rhododendron puff-ball took first place. The flowers are big and curly-edged, sweet pink with fuschia accents. You just want to put your face in there, especially on a day like today. (Still snowing, by the way.)

Soft, tall and pink or round, stubby and brown-green. An odd couple, for sure, certainly instructive to think about. When you get right down to it, you might not want to grow them side by side in your sunroom, but you get the idea.

That was Paul Tukey's motto back in the early 90's when he had a thriving lawn-care business in Maine. He used pesticides and chemical fertilizers on the lawns of his 800 customers and has never made as much money as he did then. But in 1994, after developing blurry vision, nosebleeds and cold sweats, he was diagnosed with acute pesticide poisoning. And that was the end of his mow, blow and go days. Now he's running Safelawns.org, a nonprofit that teaches organic lawn care to a growing audience of consumers who want a better, safer way to treat their lawns and gardens.

Paul, who grew up on a dairy farm in Maine and still lives outside Portland with his family, is the author of a new book (The Organic Lawn Care Manual) and one of dozens of folks giving lectures and culinary demonstrations here at the Flower Show. Topics include, on the horticulture side, flower arranging and ikebana and, on the culinary side, spicy Cuban cuisine and heart-healthy vegetarian fare.

Great stuff. Strikes me that Paul is yet another person here who's talking about changing the way we live so we use fewer precious resources (like water) and fewer synthetic products (like pesticides). The alternatives for lawns - using compost, organic fertilizers, drought-resistant plantings and less grass - are no longer obscure, or hard to buy or do. And they're a whole lot safer.

With spring coming, the lawn Olympics will be gearing up. Lots to think about.

The mood's brighter today, with better weather. Lots of folks came yesterday but nothing like the first few days. Today I'm going to check out another facet of the show: Shopping. It's a tough assignment and I do this only as a public service.
Woo hoo!

Pat Sanders (right, in photo), a 25-year volunteer with the Pennsylvania Horticultural Society, calls the flower show "the most expensive volunteer gig ever." That's because she and the other volunteers end up buying so much. I'm no volunteer but this is getting expensive. Let's see what's in my bag ... two men's ties, two flower notecards, two plastic trays with floral designs on them, a necklace with ceramic blueberries on it ... and that's just from the PHS shop. Help!

Another PHS volunteer, Mary Ann Veneziale (left, in photo), wasn't quite as bad as I was but she did some damage, too: two felt watering cans that hold pencils, for her niece's kids; infant socks for the next baby gift, and a $7 shopping bag with tomatoes all over it. "I'm going to hold on to this till I go to somebody's house. It's a great gift," Mary Ann says. (Come on over anytime!)

I haven't even made it into the big vendors' area yet! I'm doomed.

When they're not shopping, Pat and Mary Ann are signing up new PHS members or renewing memberships. They typically enroll about 600 new members during the show's weeklong run. Way to go, ladies!

As we're chatting, a couple of people drift up to the counter to smell the royal blue hyacinths. They have a smell that spells S-P-R-I-N-G for many gardeners and reminds a lot of us of the old Flower Show days in the civic center in West Philly. You'd come down the escalator to enter the show and that fabulous smell would hit you. I'm seeing a similar effect here, as people enter the exhibit space. You hear, "That smells wonderful!" again and again. It was nice hanging out with Pat and Mary Ann and the hyacinths.

I think I need to go back in there to check out the vendors in proper fashion - I need to get past that PHS shop - and while I'm at it, smell the flowers. Hyacinths and all else.

Time to head back to the office ... before I mortgage the ranch. Lots of great vendors here, selling everything from plants, garden tools and furniture to one-of-a-kind artworks with a botanical theme. I did more damage to my bank account and, if you come to the show, you will, too. But that's part of the experience, no? (That sounds good. I think I'll use that line when I go home tonight.)

Here's a tiny taste of what's for sale ...

Glass and brass door knobs salvaged from old homes. Panels from the elevator lobby of the Plaza Hotel in New York City ($750). Twin dolphins from the fountains at the Fountainebleau Hotel in Miami ($9,500). All from Olde Good Things in Scranton.

From Dakota Prairie Designs in Yardley: some really interesting pieces that I'm going to have trouble describing. They're cast in concrete from real leaves and either hand painted or tinted. Owner Holly Shirek, at the show for the first time, has small hydrangea leaves for $12 and giant rhubarb leaves for $250. She says they can be used as accents in the garden, or as bird baths. You could make a miniature water garden or float candles in them. Put a piece of glass on top, and it's a table - or set it on a table in the house.

I could see her two-tier, chartreuse-colored lotus birdbath in my garden. Only $180. But I was too distracted to make a decision. I met up with Geoff Valdes selling the $20 CobraHead weeder, a menacing looking hand tool that's sharp on three sides and 100 percent Wisconsin-made. I've used it. It does, as Geoff says, pop out clumps of weeds and clear out those tight spaces between stepping stones or bricks.

By then I was feeling virtuous, having purchased only two catnip toys for my kitties on this second shopping foray into the show. Unfortunately, on my way out, I passed Nature's Creation, which won a blue ribbon for botanical jewelry. I was entranced by the pieces crafted from real leaves - ginkgo, cottonwood, oak, maple, evergreen - and finished with colorful patinas and paints.

What did I spend? My lips are sealed and my shopping bag is full, but like the Flower Show, there are lots of little things in there. So if you see me around town, don't be surprised if all those little things end up around my neck. I think I have enough to last me through the growing season.

This is my last day blogging at the show, as it heads into its final weekend. One more spin around the floor. Thanks for hanging in there with me.

What better way to round out a week of Flower Show exploration than to return to the exhibit that struck me even as it was being built last week, stone by stone. The "Rose of Glendalough" by Celtic Gardens of Dexter, Mi., is still my favorite and judging by the comments of those around me, the favorite of many show-goers. The designers have created the haunting ruins of a small chapel. It's enveloped by unruly grapevines, the grass is a bit overgrown and the heavy country stones scattered about give it a lost and wistful look. But even in obsolescence, you're thinking, it's beautiful.

You can peek through the open doorway of the chapel to see a tree growing inside, one of many signs that Nature long ago moved in. The pink and yellow lilies, the scattered roses, a rugged water trough and a rusted water pump that leans - all signs that once this chapel bustled with villagers and animals.

This exhibit won the horticultural society's "Best in Show by invitation" and a couple of other awards. That's important. But I like it because it makes me daydream. I'm wandering through the woods and this is what I come upon.

The crowds are large, conversation is buzzing, and the idea that we'll find anything approaching serenity in the big hall today is pretty silly. But if that's what you seek, and you can maneuver yourself close enough, check out the "Serenity" exhibit by Kepich & Associates of Holicong, Pa. It's a simple scene - an unadorned cottage, rocker on the porch, with a brick walkway out front lined by layers of colorful flowers. These folks timed it right. Here it is, the end of the week, and everything looks fresh.

You'll see lots of "Knockout" roses, yellow and purple snapdragons, silvery artemisia, azaleas and rhododendrons in white, pink, rose and salmon, red tulips, a blanket of daffodils and a fluffy pink-blossomed cherry tree. Don't overlook the lady's mantle or the pretty purple clematis.

I guess they named this one "Serenity" because there's no heavy lifting required. You can just stand there and enjoy the view, and think about a few weeks from now, when our gardens and yards will be bursting with color. Don't know about you, but that thought, for me, is anything but serene. It'll be time to wake up and get moving again. I'll save serene for flower shows.

One of the neat parts of the flower show, sometimes overshadowed by the flashier elements, involves categories like tables or window boxes or, for a truly unheralded one, sogetsu, which is a modern form of ikebana, the art of Japanese flower arranging. Once you've done the circuit in the show, it's well worth backtracking to these specialized exhibits, for while you'll never reproduce them in your own home or garden, you can take elements from them to use in your designs.

I kind of liked the Gallagher Group's "Unsinkable Spirit" exhibit in the table category. It portrayed "a watery abyss," with tilted table and spilled beer, as if the ship were either going down or bobbing in the water. But what many folks were snapping pictures of was "Tailgate" (photo, right) by the Huntingdon Valley Garden Club. Both of these tableaux used ordinary stuff to set a scene.

The tailgate was real, held up by a big tire and a beer keg. Props included a football, folding chair, makeshift BBQ, gold football helmet, small goal posts and bright lights. The flowers weren't exotic - a winding arrangement of apple-green spider mums. It's just plain fun, and the judges clearly got into the spirit, posting comments like "Go Irish!" and "Touchdown!

I also liked the Four Counties Garden Club's window box entry, using dry-garden plants: aeonium, echeveria, euphorbia, sedum and kalanchoe. The colors were subtle, from milky green to purple, with tints of rose and brown. No flashy flowers, not much color, but what a combo. When I think of window boxes, I think bright primary colors and contrast. But this shows there are other, more gentle, ways to do it that might be just as appealing.

Dramatic is the only way to describe the sogetsu entry that used giant bamboo poles to frame a free-style mix of yellow cushion mums, purple agapanthus and red tulips. It stopped folks in their tracks. Maybe you're not ready for bamboo scaffolding out back, but this exhibit made me think: There are lots of other ways to use bamboo decoratively, in smaller ways, in the garden.

This has been a week of big and small themes and ideas. I've learned a lot. I'm about to make tracks out of here, but the blog will continue in our non-Flower Show future. I hope you'll stop in from time to time.

Now that I've rejoined the living, friends and colleagues are freely sharing their thoughts about the flower show, much to my amusement. Read these comments and you'll see why ...

The show was "over the top," too full of exotic flowers and landscapes, out of reach for the average home gardener. Not enough practical information offered.
No, the show had too many ordinary plants, like azaleas and rhododendrons, not enough exotic flowers and landscapes.
The show was wonderful. What a disappointment!
The Irish entertainment was fantastic. Not sure how it was - couldn't get close enough to see.
It was crowded. Parking was ridiculously expensive. Food was ridiculously expensive - and lousy.

I went to the show for eight days. Two days of set-up, every day last week, and Saturday with family. I checked out the exhibits, the window boxes, tables and miniatures. I examined the competitive classes, went to the lectures, ate the food and bought from the vendors. I parked in two different garages, in sun and snow.

Yes, parking and food were expensive. Yes, it was crowded. No, I didn't like everything. But if you spent enough time there, you could find, learn or buy just about anything you'd want for your garden.

And no, no, no, you can't please everyone!

And how sweet it is, this spring-like interlude. It'll no doubt vanish shortly and morph into cold and rain, maybe worse, but yesterday and today? the best. After work last night, in honor of the remaining daylight, I headed out to the garden (color: brown) to get a start on all the cleanup I should've done last spring. This produced the first blister of the 2007 gardening season, but the restorative benefits of that one hour of raking, pruning and digging have carried over to today. Hoping to do more tonight if the rain holds off.

I'm also busy cleaning out the birdhouses - birds are house-hunting right now - and marveling at how packed with tiny, insulating sticks they are. Birds are so ingenious. It'll be fun when the wren families move in.

Enjoy this day!

Snow in the forecast for tomorrow? I'm not ready to let go of these warm days. Last night, as promised, I headed out to the garden to continue the big clean-up (the one that didn't happen when it should have, last fall) ... and didn't get very far. For a happy reason.

The neighbors were out, too, walking the dog, playing with their toddlers, coming by to say hello. We all decided that we're tired of winter, even though it hasn't been terrible, and can't wait for spring to spring. I learned about two more babies on the block (on the way) and one friend's plans to take a much-deserved vacation ... Let's face it. It's time for everyone to come out of their houses and start talking again.

When the weather's warm, the sidewalks in my neighborhood are jammed in the evenings and on weekends and if you go for a walk after dinner, any day of the week, you meet all sorts of people. They might be just taking a spin, like you, or taking the dog out or puttering around in their gardens. One night last summer a neighbor I don't even know two streets over told me to come over anytime and take some plants I'd been admiring in her small but colorful front yard. "I have plenty," she said, although she wasn't sure what they were.

I never did take any, but later I did find out what her plants were and left the information in her door.

So, after a few days of warmth and a brief reminder of my neighborhood's neighborliness, news that snow is on the way is a definite bummer. Back inside we go, for a little while longer.

No, not that AA! I'm talking Allan Armitage, author of 11 gardening books, 450 articles and lots more to warrant his receipt yesterday of the Scott Medal at Swarthmore College's Scott Arboretum for his huge contribution to the art and science of horticulture. Wanted to share some insights from his rollicking talk. (Now there's an adjective that doesn't often describe horticulture talks!)

One is that we can come to gardening by any route, at any age. Armitage kind of fell into it, or rolled slowly into it. He was not a straight trajectory, and unlike many folks he's met over the years, he didn't start out with a father who loved it or a grandmother with a greenhouse. In fact, as a kid, he saw hedges as something to kick field goals over and honeysuckle berries as ammo for pea-shooters. No one, in other words, is ordained to become a gardening guru. The field is wide open!

A second thought that came while listening to Armitage is that you can enjoy gardening on any level. That's good news for the many people I hear from who say they feel swamped by all the information out there, intimidated by experts and the Latin names of plants and conclude that they have no "green thumb" and will never get it. Not so!

There's no such thing as a "green thumb." You learn about plants the way you learn about anything. Do you think Julia Child whipped up her special ragout of chicken and onions in red wine right out of the gate?

This next nugget was a bit of a surprise, but Armitage is nothing if not blunt. (And let me say, if anyone has a right to feel superior, he does.) This expert's expert hates gardening snobs. "They rot my socks," he says. "There are all sorts of different ways to go." He suggests a place to start: "Grow it. Love it. If it dies, it dies."

Armitage seems to have taken the love part to heart. Gardening, he says, is exhausting. It's frustrating. It can suck up a lot of money. But you'll never be bored. You'll feel happy. "And it's impossible to grow old when you're always looking forward to the future," he says.

Speaking of future ... No matter the rain, the snow, the sleet blanket that recently squashed us. Spring's coming Wednesday! Say hallelujah.

Happy spring, everyone! And a chilly beginning of the season it is. The scene along Kelly Drive this morning captured the times perfectly. On the hillside to the left, leftover snow and ice. In the river to the right, bundled-up rowers practicing. I realize I need to get in gear. I'm still paging through nursery catalogues and making endless lists of things to buy and projects to start. Meanwhile, I'm running - rowing - in place.

Once the weather warms up and the snow disappears for good, we'll be seeing our lawns and flower beds again. And that means ... no place to hide the deposits left by the neighborhood dogs. I have no problem with dogs - love them, in fact! It's some of the humans who own them that give me paws. Pause.

It's a relatively new phenomenon to see dog-owners walking with plastic bags to scoop up the you-know-what. And most people are great about it. Thank you, thank you. But there are those dog owners who either don't scoop, or who scoop and then - unbelievable - toss or leave their bags of treasure for others to dispose of.

I can't print here how this affects me and other conscientious homeowners and gardeners who take care to plant beautiful flowers for all to enjoy. Bad enough we have to pick up butts and French fries and other junk humans leave behind. It's downright nasty to expect us to clean up after other people's dogs.

Apparently, sad to report, this is a problem in other places too. Check out www.cutthecrap.com ... "dedicated to cleaning up our world, one lawn at a time." It was started by some folks on Long Island who'd had it with their thoughtless neighbors. They sell lawn signs that, if nothing else, will make you laugh. How about "Thanks. But we've already fertilized" or "Kids at Play...Keep Poop Away."

I fenced my entire property to keep the humans in check and now some toss their little baggies inside the fence. Trust me. It's lousy fertilizer! But the problem is bigger than my cranky ramblings. When it rains, dog waste ends up in our waterways, bringing with it all sorts of bad stuff to make us sick and pollute our water.

I hate to think that anything even remotely associated with such loving and lovely creatures - dogs, not humans! - could be responsible for this. But responsible is the operative word here. That's us.

Last night we had a taste of summer over dinner. I thawed tomato sauce made in August, when tomato mania ruled the manor, and we ate it on top of fresh pasta. It was the simplest of sauces - tomatoes, herbs from the garden, salt and pepper. It probably wouldn't have passed the "Now, that's Italian!" test, but oh my, was it nice.

My back is achin' this morning, after a few hours yesterday slinging mulch. Man, those bags are heavier every year! As I was slinging, I kept thinking how nice it would be to have someone do this for me. But by the time I finished, that being a relative term, I was thinking how nice everything looks and what a good feeling that gave me. I find that doing hard labor like this occupies me totally. No thoughts about work. Nothing on the radar about other stuff that needs to be done. I guess this is what's known as living "in the moment." Very therapeutic. Especially as the work week begins anew.

Just the thought of a warm day gets me into work early and thinking of getting everything done efficiently so I can leave early and get to work in the garden. The aches and pains of the weekend mulching are fading fast. That's one thing gardeners learn ... denial for the greater good! Otherwise we'd never get back to it.

I read something last night by the late, great garden writer Henry Mitchell that made me gasp out loud. In his wonderful memoir One Man's Garden, he writes, "Ideally, the garden should be perfectly weed-free by early April ... "

Ha! After cruising around the garden last night I realized it's not perfectly weed-free, not even close. It's a perfect mess and at the moment it seems an impossible task to set it right - the weeding, the pruning, mulching, lugging those heavy bags around, planning, planting. My list of "to-dos" is long, my time not so long, and who knows about my energy level?

But optimism takes hold as soon as I notice buds on the hydrangea and the magnolia tree and rosettes forming on the sedum and whatever bulbs the squirrels didn't get are beginning to poke their pale little heads up. One nice surprise: a lovely circle of white crocuses tinged with purple has appeared around a bird bath. The squirrels must've pigged out on the tulips.

I forgot one task: Raking. Never got around to raking 20 tons of leaves. Now I pay.

Wanted to share some of the ups and downs of my garden walk-through. Prepare yourself. I know gardeners are very self-conscious about letting other gardeners see their big fat mess before they have a chance to plant and beautify.

Perhaps we should look at the plus side first. Buds on the mophead hydrangea and the climbing hydrangea, big pink buds on the magnolia. And best of all, crocuses by the bird bath. How nice is that?

But what a mess the rest is. I cut back some ornamental grasses and packed what I could into a bunch of heavy contractor bags. This was a week ago. I've fallen down on the job since then .. and look at the mess that's my garden right now.

It's hard to imagine what this same space will be in two months. It's probably irrational, but sometimes I worry nothing will come up. Of course it will. But look at it now. How many times have people said oh, I'd like to show you my garden but it's horrible right now!

Well, mine's pretty horrible! It's a bit of a shock to see it all out there, so brown and tangled. Sharing one's horticultural inadequacies with the blogosphere is a little scary.

But I can't gather everything up like a pile of magazines and hide it in a closet till the company leaves. I can't pull a tarp over it. And I didn't really have to show it to you -- but there it is.

Eventually I'll have to post a photo to prove that the work was done, the flowers came up and the new stuff planted. It will be green, not brown, and lush, not dry and hopeless. Sigh.

This could take a while, folks.

The weekend is shaping up as a shape-up time in the garden. Feeling guilty after realizing what a mess mine is, I decided to do what I always do when a task seems overwhelming: break it down into a series of smaller tasks and attack them one by one.

So several nights this week I went home, changed clothes and headed outside with a rake and a box of giant contractor bags. I gathered up the leaves in one corner, then another, then cleaned up the mountain of ornamental grass clippings. I'm not there yet, but the garden is looking a whole lot better.

I have one thing to say about the winter just passed. I think we had a war of twigs! Have you ever seen so many sticks and twigs? There were piles and piles of them in my yard. The trees look none the worse for wear, fortunately.

I've enlisted my big strong husband to help this weekend. (I'll give him all the heavy jobs.) Being a good guy, he's game, so I'm hoping we can finish most of the cleanup, then move on to planting lettuces and other cool-weather crops.

It's exciting to think the gardening season is actually beginning. It wasn't a bad winter, just a winter full of soggy leaves and flying twigs. It's always fun to move into spring. 'Cause we know what comes after that!

Just took a walk. What a spectacular day! It's chilly but sunny. I noticed pansies and daffodils in lots of beds here in Center City. Funny, how all roads lead to ... I ended up in a store that sells seeds. A colleague here at the paper was telling me this morning how she planted leeks in her community garden last weekend. Leeks! Something else to add to the box of seeds at home. So I bought some.

And I'm reminded by a caller that Chanticleer, that most amazingly colorful and imaginative public garden in Wayne, officially opens tomorrow (Saturday). Henceforth, it'll be open Wednesdays through Sundays from 10 a.m. to 5 p.m.

The staff is frantically getting ready ... cleaning up, edging the flower beds, building and planting new ones, mulching, setting out containers and checking for insect damage. Hey. Sounds a lot like what we're doing. Except their results are a gazillion times more amazing! You might not think there'd be much to see this time of year, but there's actually quite a bit: daffodils, scilla, magnolias, hellbores, and all of these in vast quantities.

If I can clean myself up after cleaning up my garden, I'm heading over this weekend! Chanticleer is a treat. First thing, I'll be checking out the flower arrangements - fresh, fun - in the ladies room by the front gate. No kidding. Even the "facilities" at Chanticleer are outrageously cool.

Anyone who comes tomorrow gets a free rooster cookie. Chanticleer, of course, was the rooster in Chaucer's Canterbury Tales:

"His comb was redder than a fine coral,
And battlemented like a castle wall.
His bill was black and just like jet it shone;
Like azure were his legs and toes, each one;
His spurs were whiter than the lily flower;
And plumage of the burnished gold his dower."

The rooster is this garden's adopted icon. And this passage from Chaucer is just like the garden. Bold and beautiful.

Hope to see you there!

If anyone out there goes to Chanticleer this weekend, take some photos and send them to me. I'd love to see what your inner artist uncovers. Send to vsmith@phillynews.com.