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The editor of an anthology of garden writing once wrote something like, “A man with a garden is a peaceful man.” I agree with that. Of course, I occasionally joke that I’m “the swearing gardener.” The contrasting juxtaposition–peace, then intense frustration at things going wrong–cracks me up. It’s not the stuff of sainthood, but then, neither am I. I guess I could strive for the category of “gentleman,” however. If that’s something you’re interested in, check out this article: Seven Reasons to Become a Gentleman Gardener.

Happy birthday to my mom, incidentally. She did a fine job with three-fourths of her boys, and the fourth one has a halfway decent blog.