October? Are you kidding me? Not with these temperatures. Oh wait -- just as I was losing all hope that fall would arrive, a slight cool snap was forecast.
Goldenrod is getting cranked up, and people are starting to sneeze ... but blaming the wrong culprits.
Finally, we're going to start enjoying some cooler weather, and just in time. I've wanted to start writing about the fantastic cool-season color, but I've had to wait until the summertime heat starts to cool.
This summer has seemed endless: hot, humid and just miserable. As a gardener, I know, or maybe hope, relief will soon be on the way.
Everyone has their favorite season, but to me autumn is the best, a time to set out a little stuff for winter and next spring while wrapping up the summer garden, then basking in recollections.
Some gardeners are standard-setting bullies, criticizing neighbors for doing what's been perfectly acceptable for centuries.
Although we're finally into the fall season, it's still 90 degrees outside across Mississippi.
Sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but Mississippi gardens have just started getting a little less rosy.
When summer starts to roll around to autumn, some gardens and landscapes nearly start all over, as worn-out summer annuals are composted and new seasonal selections take their place.
Too bad my tummy doesn't have eyes to better appreciate the colorful goodies I'm about to send its way right out of my little container garden.
I came to a shocking realization this past weekend: Even though it still feels like summer, the signs are all around us that fall is about to begin.
Jump back, calm down and move on: Good advice for encounters between gardeners and beneficial reptiles found lurking in out-of-the-way places.
I've noticed a common characteristic among us gardeners. As we go through the year, our favorite plants in the landscape and garden seem to change from week to week.
September was my least favorite month when I worked, because Labor Day was the last day out of school until Thanksgiving.
In competition gardening, it's only partly what you know or your skills that gets the prize. It's also a willingness to jump through hoops.
Several weeks ago, I wrote about looking forward to the time of year when ornamental peppers start strutting their gorgeous fruit colors.
There's little more disheartening than tending a bed or potful of homegrown food this sultry time of year. There are tricks to help pull it off, but they won't ease the angst.
Earlier this year, I wrote about an outstanding landscape plant, the Rose of Sharon.
A garden is much more sensory than mere looks; sometimes more memorable features can be found -- eyes closed -- right outside the door.
While visiting my parents in Tennessee this weekend, my dad asked why one of their Annabelle hydrangeas was blooming while another -- growing just 5 feet away -- was not. He asked if I had some special fertilizer or bloom juice that could be applied.