A vase of tulips rarely stays where you put it. Arrange it in the evening and the stems may look composed: upright enough, tidy enough, each flower holding its own small cup of color. By the next morning, one bloom has leaned toward the window, another has climbed above the rest, and a third has made a soft curve over…
On a cold February morning, a maple with a bucket on it can sound more awake than the rest of the garden. The beds are still flat. The lawn is patched with old snow. The buds on the branches look tight and undecided. Then, from a small metal spout in the bark, a clear drop gathers, falls, and ticks against…
A February seed tray can look too small to have its own ecosystem, until it does. You fill the cells with seed-starting mix, press in tomatoes or basil or snapdragons, mist the surface, set the clear dome over the tray, and wait for the first signs of spring. Then, before many seedlings have done anything impressive, the soil surface begins…
