The Gift

Christmas Morning
December 25, 2009

Five AM and 19 degrees here on the mountain. A light wind moves back and forth from nothingness to 3 mph as morning begins to waken ever so slowly. The house is quiet. I flipped on the outside lights to look for sleigh runner tracks and footprints but save for a lone coyote track under the bird feeder, the snow was untouched. Just the same there are presents under the tree and the day will begin when sheets and blankets are tossed aside for coffee and breakfast and holiday greetings.

Gifts at Christmas take all sizes and shapes. As I age along, a warm hug, a handshake, an "I missed you" seem to be worth a bunch more than something material. Gifts of all types are always fun but more often I like to be able to share with Gail and Alex and Karl at the end of the day something like "Wasn't this a great day?"





This year I received a gift from Alex that came in August, not today. It was not boxed or bagged or wrapped in flashy paper or tied with curled ribbons or adorned with ornaments or even a personalized note or tag. It had nothing to do with gardening which I am supposed to be talking about here but it was a gift that warms me every time I think of it and was a gift that I will remember on my last Christmas Day.

Alex is a special person, but all kids are or should be. He is 17 now, and as many of you know he knows autism better than we wish. He is home educated here with us and he has a daily routine that works for him and us. What he did one day this summer was never a gift to anyone in his mind but to me it was very special.

One day Gail and I were working at the nursery and Alex stayed home by himself. His responsibility includes walking Karl the Wonder Dog and this is no chore for him as the two are best buddies. The walk varies from time to time as Karl's nose leads in different directions and as long as weather and time permit, the path out and back to the house varies each trip. On this summer day, they headed down the road, past neighbor Lively's lower road and down towards Salamander Brook.

Alex does not have distance vision and although he could wear his glasses, they are usually more burden to him than not. On this particular day Karl stopped to sniff and Alex looked into the woods and at a distance he spotted what he thought was a large moose. Moose are not uncommon here on the mountain and like Santa they often come and go without being seen but they do leave some notice of their travel. As the "moose" got closer, Alex noticed that it was not a moose but a riderless horse, complete with saddle and reigns but it was truly riderless.

Our neighbors keep a horse that belongs to Alexandria, a young girl Alex's age. She was born a couple months after Alex was and at the time we did not know the family or know that as neighbors we would share an Alex and an Alexandria just a couple hundred yards apart. When Alex spotted the horse, one would think he'd have identified it as Alexandria's horse, an animal he had seen every day for years. But autism is an interesting thing and items out of context often appear new and different and to Alex this riderless horse appeared different and unfamiliar. True to autism, as Alex processed what he saw, he began to shout out in uncommon question, "Anyone lose a horse?" "Anyone lose a horse?"

At first there was no reply as the horse wandered down the roadside eating grass and moving in a different direction than it's nearby pasture and stable. But then in the far distance Alex heard a cry for help. It was a weak cry and he didn't know at first where it was coming from but between Karl's nose and Alex's direction they traveled across the hill pasture and down over the side to a ravine where they found Alexandria laying in agony. The horse had been startled by an animal and she had been thrown off. When she came to, a severely broken ankle and wrist left her unable to move.

We have no idea what brief conversation Alex had but he and Karl ran all the way to Alexandria's home, yelling for help the last part of the way. Since the horse never came home the parents knew nothing of the problem which Alex identified as he and the parents ran back the quarter mile to provide assistance. The long and the short of it is that four months later the final operation has freed the injuries of the pins that helped them mend, and Alexandria is finally off her crutches, and just in time for holidays she is getting back to herself. Everyone is grateful for Alex's action and I am especially proud to know that he responded so well in a situation that was very difficult for him to process. This will remain a gift to me forever, a memory of something without a package or a ribbon or a card but a memory of caring. Without his presence and his action, there's no telling how long Alexandria would have waited for help.

"Anyone lose a horse?"
"Anyone seen Santa?"


Writing from the mountain above Peacham Pond, telling my Christmas story, and sharing warm thoughts of friendship to gardeners and their friends everywhere!




Merry Christmas!

George Africa
The Vermont Gardener
Vermont Flower Farm

Tuesday, December 22, 2009

5 degrees above zero with a 3 mph wind here on the mountain as The Vermont Gardener crawled out from beneath the sheets after a week and a half of a cold virus that knocked his socks off. Not a seasonal flu, not H1N1, just a nasty virus picked up in a dentist office or the hospital back on December 11th. My legs still have a spaghetti-like weakness to them and my head has a wooziness that makes focusing two eyes a challenge but my mind says let's get going again even though I know more energy is something I wish I could buy today.

Our house was a cold 60 degrees this morning. In WWII my dad was a boiler maker on two destroyers, the Kearny and the Wiley and as I grew up in Woodstock, Vermont, he continued on in that role keeping several woodstoves going. Here at our place, Gail is the "boilermaker" and she does a super job 99.9% of the time. I'll get the story when she wakes up today but I think last night's guests may have done her in.

I usually offer some ideas for Christmas gifts for gardeners this time of year but I'm now too far behind to be much help. I guess my one recommendation would be that as difficult as it is at times, try to support local businesses and buy American as much as possible. Small businesses built America and despite the attention big businesses always get, praise is due to the little guys that make it all work. Here at Vermont Flower Farm we know what "little" means and we respect loyal customers who keep us going.

This is the time of year when seed catalogs prevail. Some companies are sending out more catalogs and others are only sending to proven customers. There's a fine advertising line in which way you go when times are tough and I have deliberated both perspectives. The challenge is obtaining a customer in the first place and then keeping that person, business or family so they come back for a number of years. When times are difficult one might think that gardening would be low on the totem pole but last year showed an incredible increase in vegetable gardening. The incidence of new flower gardeners visiting us was very encouraging as more people entered that aspect of gardening to spruce up around their homes. All our trade journals suggest that trend will continue and grow again this year.

Among the seed companies, Johnny's featured up top is one of the best for us. We have known this fine Maine company for a long time and the way they manage their company is the way it should be done. We have never had a problem with delivery, germination or identity of product purchased. They are on-line for home and commercial purchases and you won't be disappointed.

Many people around the world have taken to saving seeds. My friend Mike down the road from here has been saving his seed for years. He feels he has arrived at success with some vegetable varieties that produce well on his land and in this climate so he saves seeds each year. He figures he is protected from other producers crop failures and he can keep his needs met each year. When I was a kid I remember the neighboring farm ladies, Fidelia, Lillian and Eunice, saved certain bean, squash and pumpkin seeds each year to guarantee that famous pot of baked beans, that special pie or pumpkin roll. Today the Seed Saver Exchange is an example of one of the biggest processors. I've always been intrigued with bean varieties and where they originate from and this catalog is clearly not short on beans for every purpose.

For a few years now we have received Baker's catalogs pictured below. They are one of the growing number of heirloom seed producers in America and many gardeners are interested in returning to these seeds. It's always important to remember that the older seeds have fine attributes but they may not have built in genetic protections against disease. Some of the finest tasting tomatoes for example are limited in how they handle fungus and virus but if you can get them to ripen, the flavor is unforgettable. I remember my mom canning tomatoes back in the fifties and now know why she was so emphatic about getting them out of the garden, washed and canned all in a few days time.



If you are contemplating a vegetable garden for the first time this year, do some research. If you need a resource to boost confidence and make you take that final step from "just thinking about" to "becoming a for-real gardener" consider local author Ed Smith's books, The Vegetable Gardener's Bible or Incredible Vegetables from Self Watering Containers. Ed and his family are great gardeners and they offer good advice to get you started.

That's it for now. Good to be back. I'll try to get regenerated here. Good holiday wishes!


George Africa
The Vermont Gardener
Vermont Flower Farm I've started reworking our website but it's still functional. If you need a last minute gift card, give Gail a call at 802-426-3505 and she'll be happy to help!

The Ginger Eaters

Monday, December 7, 2009

Twenty degrees above zero this morning as the steam clouds from Peacham Pond making ice became more clear as the sun rose above the now-naked tamaracks. This is the coldest morning temperature-wise although the winds of a couple days ago and again last night made a couple 24 degree days feel much colder.

Karl the Wonder Dog slept in this morning but with unpleasant reason. He had us up last night at 3 in the half moonlight to welcome four deer coming up from the reservoir to eat some apples in the yard. There's one poorly shapen little tree that has a hard skinned, rusty, almost olive colored apple that hangs tough this time of year. Since most of the apples have already fallen, the deer take to these trees with regularity, apparently knowing that good foods in good supply will soon turn to hardwood buds and young branches, raspberry and blackberry leaves, and conifers for the balance of the winter.

As Karl and I walked into the lower hosta garden, the abundance of deer tracks somehow reminded me of Christmas ferns and Asurums, the gingers I have come to be interested in. As we approached the dying yellow birch, the site of last night's animal buffet became obvious. The European gingers and some of the Christmas ferns had been eaten to ground level. Ferns and deer are matched during the course of the late fall and early winter and later on the deer can be seen pawing away the snow to get to something green. This was the first time I ever saw my gingers take a hit. Now I am wondering how they will look come spring. For whatever reason, the deer did not touch the Asurum canadense, the wild gingers (just below) native to the East.

My memory thought back to how beautiful the small but growing swathes of European ginger were in previous years. Almost 100% of gardeners who see them want to buy some and since the move to the new nursery, I haven't had time to get any ready or even get some moved into the display gardens for viewing. As hard as the deer ate them last night, garden viewing in this garden may be more limited next year.


As I read the various listservs, especially the daylily, daylily spider and hosta lists this time of year, occasional attention turns to controlling deer in the garden. As always I refer people to a page on our website that summarizes our experiences here in Marshfield.....deer experiences, not dear experience. Here's the link.



Writing from the mountain above Peacham Pond where the temperature and barometer are changing as if to signal a nice day or two before the first snowstorm with potential arrives Wednesday in Vermont.

George Africa
The Vermont Gardener
Vermont Flower Farm
Now on Facebook as just me: George Africa

Need help on a gardening gift? Email Gail at lilies@hughes.net with your name and phone number and she'll call you back with the details that will make a gardening friend smile.

Rain Walk

Thursday, December 3, 2009

It's already into December but one would question that this morning. It's 52 degrees, there's a 3-5 mph variable wind, and the rain is coming down in buckets with slight interruptions that last only long enough for a short walk. Karl the Wonder Dog and I just returned due more to his insistence than my desire. Reports across the nation from garden writers indicate rain and flooding prevails most everywhere.

Karl and I cheated a bit and started the walk in the truck until we got to the end of the big field. He seemed bothered by the shortness of the trip as he is a dog that loves truck rides. For him, today's ride ended in a question mark. I coaxed him out and we headed up the back woods trail. Two more fir balsams had come down during last night's windstorm. The beeches along the field's perimeter are obvious with leaves bleached by the rain but still holding tight in places while other branches are already forming next year's buds.

We walked to the top of the first road and I stopped without choice when Karl came to an abrupt stop. Coyote, fisher or bear had obviously come by recently as there was no moving this dog, his feet implanted like big bridge abutments going nowhere. Straight ahead was the last of an old spruce that has been falling apart for years. Since we had visited last the top arms dropped to the forest floor in final rest. It used to be fun to climb and peer from but now its age has made that unsafe and just a memory.

We half trotted down the hill on the back woods road. The wind blew water drops sideways and they dripped from the visor of my cap. Karl stopped often to shake. He sneaked under the lower branches of a spruce as I stooped to pick the spent scape from a lady's tresses orchid. Karl

showed no amusement for the old orchid as I made a mental note of its location for next spring. Vermont has a number of orchids and some are growing secretively in open fields or along woods roads begging to be seen but at the same time hiding coyly from disrespectful shovels of harm.

We stopped for a moment as Karl picked up the rustling sound of birch bark catching errant breezes. He couldn't figure out where the noise came from but it was uncommon to his ears. White birch are interesting to me but Karl could care.

We returned to the truck in time for my friend to jump inside and then begin to shake water everywhere. With all the outdoors I don't know why dogs do this but one is no different than the next. Karl couldn't wait to get home to the warm fire. Lunch and a hot coffee sounded good to me.


Writing from the mountain above Peacham Pond where a second flock of snow geese has passed overhead this morning.

George Africa
Vermont Flower Farm

Chipmunk Tables

Friday, November 27, 2009

It's the day after Thanksgiving and the house is quiet. Even Karl the Wonder Dog slept in longer. The kitchen counter still has dishes, clean and neatly stacked but not yet shelved. The dishwasher is full and needs to be emptied. The refrigerator is packed tightly as if no one came to dine, and two butter dishes, one more than we need, are shelved in front of the middle shelf, having journeyed from opposite ends of a table of friendships. Three pies sit covered on the sideboard, each missing different numbers of symmetrically cut pieces. The remaining pie pieces represent less of a popularity contest than a "getting full" response to Gail's query of "Who wants apple? Pumpkin? Mince meat? If Eric stops by this morning to visit, I'm sure he'll find one to try with coffee.

With more patience than encouragement, I waited for Karl to rise and stretch and ask me for a walk. I had been ready for some time but the quiet was nice and I savored it. He woke and with a clip of the leash snap, we were out the door and heading through the sugar bush. The leaves were quiet and they smelled like the remaining days of fall without snow.

I glanced down through the maple trees knowing that my neighbor would not be out and about yet. It's still too early and damp I thought but I headed towards the big stone and his bench to check anyway. Karl knew the direction and beelined for it despite my protest to his excessive speed. I wanted to enjoy the morning.

The bench was covered with leaves. My friend was absent. Had he been by recently the seat would have been swept clean of leaves. I know he likes the bench and although it's "his" I sit on it sometimes, sometimes talking, often just sitting and enjoying. Today it was too wet to sit but I stood and looked off to Hooker Mountain and reflected on the things that I am thankful for.

Karl and I retraced our steps and headed for the tall pines on our side of the road and then out back towards the white spring. We stopped along the way for a moment. Chipmunk tables. I make them at times when cutting wood leaves pieces unfit for the fire but good enough for tables in the forest. Birds and beasts as small as insects, mice, chipmunks and squirrels like tables to dine on. Karl and I like to observe who is dining and who is not. Today we watched a red squirrel chatter cautionary remarks while he ate balsam seeds. Avoiding impolite interruption, we turned and left. Karl's tail wagged goodbye and I left a smile behind us. There's lots to be thankful for.

Writing from the mountain above Peacham Pond where the temperature has dropped to 36 degrees and windless dampness prevails.

Fall garden wishes for final cleanups and good walks to plan for next year's gardens.

George Africa
The Vermont Gardener
Vermont Flower Farm
Now on Facebook as a page in my name. "Look-see" if you have a minute. Resource connections and new gardening friends and acquaintances grow each day.

Many Hands Make Light Work

Saturday, November 21, 2009

Almost 2 PM here on the mountain. 46 degrees with winds smothering in and out from 1 to 3 miles an hour. Karl the Wonder Dog is snoring on the couch and impatient deer hunters are driving the roads, waiting for another hour before heading for their favorite stand until dark. Gail is outside pruning fir balsam boughs for wreaths and I'm just getting back to the computer after an ongoing saga of medical repairs on my body. Carpal tunnel release, one trigger finger, one hernia repaired, one more trigger finger to go and then more recuperation. My dad always said "Boy, I'll be happy when it stops hurtin'!" and I know just what he meant.

A few weeks back we took a ride to Glover, Vermont. Gail and Alex hadn't been there before and I wanted them to visit Curriers Market. This is a neat old place that's half grocery store, half sporting goods store. The meat is very good and the prices for the various cuts are hand written on paper hanging in front of the counter. As the price moves up or down, the butcher lines out the last price and writes in the new one. The meat is fresh cut for you and there's something special about a butcher/butcheress (?) who knows your name and how you like things done.

What I wanted Gail and Alex to see wasn't the meat though, but the taxidermy on display. The store is a museum of animal mounts, mostly from Vermont and Canada and some from further away. The walls around the beverage coolers are papered with Polaroid pictures of each season's harvest--pictures of deer and bear and turkeys and hunters by the hundreds. It's a place that has a history that should be written but is relived many times each year.

On the outskirts of town there's a pull off that's worth the stop as it forces recall of two hundred years worth of history. The Town of Glover erected this monument to a time in 1810 when 60 men and boys changed history and geography at the same time. As you read the stone and the commemorative plaque that appears on its reverse side, glance back up to the picture up top and visualize if there was 70 feet of water on top of the gravel you would be standing on. Click on the pictures to enlarge the writing so you understand the story of what happened.

Sooo-o-o-o, many hands do make light work and in this case 60 sets of hands changed history. Today the same task would have been automated with giant heavy equipment but it wouldn't have been allowed without a truckload of applications, deer yard reviews, bear habitat reviews, site visits, hearings and permits. Today it wouldn't take 60 men to get the job done but factually 60 men could do the job by hand faster than the entire process would take in modern times.

In the same pull off as the marker are some benches made from millstones. Again, the stones represent a time that is long passed but the granite of the stones and the method by which they were manufactured 200 years ago serves as reminder to the amount of physical work people had to do just to exist. When you're shopping next and you reach for a 5 pound sack of flour, remember these millstones and think about where we've gone since then.


This final picture shows a water well configured to match the millstones. The accompanying sign cautions that the water hasn't been tested but there's no doubt that hundreds of critters have stopped for a drink over the past couple hundred years. The picture gives another example to think through 70 feet of water that stood here before the trench was cut.

Gardening can be a tough experience and smart gardeners benefit from the helping hands of friends. I should have learned this lesson before I needed to learn the advantage of prosthetic mesh to patch a tear in an aging mid section. Well, I learned the lesson late but I do have some time to catch up on garden reading.


Writing from the mountain above Peacham Pond where good gardeners should care about their health and not try to do too much themselves.

George Africa
The Vermont Gardener
Vermont Flower Farm

Big Leaves Have Left

Sunday, November 15, 2009

Just 6 AM here on the mountain, windless, quiet, 48 degrees. The Rains of Ida have ceased after dropping I don't know how much water on us last evening and well into the night. I retired the rain gauge three weeks ago because it's a bother when hard freezes threaten, so I have no firm idea on how much fell. In a half hour when the sun begins to rise, I'll check the unofficial rain gauges, the five gallon buckets left in the yard for fall planting, and I'll get an idea what fell.

Karl the Wonder Dog just visited me, gave me a kiss on the hand and returned to bed. He apparently knows it's Sunday and I won't leave to get my paper until my work here is completed. He'll be snoring again in seconds, dreaming about a ride in the truck which he loves so much. Outside deer hunters wearing wet boots from yesterday's almost pointless slogging around will be heading into the woods, hoping for a dry day and at least the vision of some wildlife.

Yesterday afternoon I headed to the garden as a light rain fell, hoping to cover up three trees I planted this spring. A couple are weeping tamaracks that should do fine but one is an Atlas blue weeping cedar which is zone 5 at best. I knew when I bought it that there was some question involved and people of the know reminded me this summer that I was a little nuts to spend time and money on failure. I placed it in a dry part of the new hosta and shade garden where it is out of the wind more than in other places but where the sun shines each day. With changes in climate, it's worth the money and effort to try borderline items and sometimes succeed when others suggest you'll fail.

The tree is about 6 feet tall so I took four 8 foot X half inch reinforcing bars and sunk them in the group 2 feet and then tied them together up top to form a tee pee-like frame. Then I cut the top and bottoms out of several burlap bags and slid them over the top of the frame and filled them with shredded leaves from the ground to the top. This will slow down the winter dessication. I packed the leaves well at the bottom to slow down the freeze-thaw cycles we now see in Vermont. I also circled the burlap with polypropylene string to keep the burlap from shifting and I said a quick "Hope to see you in the spring." and walked away.

For some reason it came to me that I had never transplanted the astilboides tabularis to the perimeter of this new shade garden as I wanted last year. I love big leaved plants and this one is special to me. Come spring they start slowly here and then the unfolding leaves just grow and grow. As they mature, each leaf is about 3 feet in diameter, sometimes a bit wider, and they look so nice to me as they serve as landing pads for floating leaves and tree needles and various insects in need of a rest. I have even seen chickadees and small warblers sitting atop pecking off insect snacks.

Astilboides tabularis have that Jurassic look about them and they do for me what I wish the gunnera manicatas would do. If I lived in Seattle like one of my sons, I could happily grow the gunneras but here in Vermont they are just another plant that needs to be moved to a warmer place for the winter and that's the reason I gave up on glads and dahlias and calla lilies many moons ago. Plant astilboides in a dry setting and keep it watered or in a damp setting with some sun and your landscape architecture will offer a perspective your friends and neighbors will show envy for.




Well, the sun is up enough for a walk. I'll wake my buddy and leash him up, put on my safety vest and head down the road for a morning look-see. Karl's sniffer will be in full operation as the animals have been hold up since yesterday with the hard rains and are no doubt out and about making up for last night's missed meal.


Writing from the mountain above Peacham Pond where a single loon calls a primitive "Good Morning". Walk with me if you wish.

George Africa
The Vermont Gardener
Vermont Flower Farm

Lilium Concerns

Thursday, November 12, 2009

Evening comes too early for me now. Gail and Karl the Wonder Dog joined me in a quick walk out back after I returned from work today. I had been sitting too long and needed some fresh air and a little of the stuff that makes me love living in Vermont. We returned too quickly but the light was fading and I had a few things to finish up before dinner. The smell of acorn squash baking with maple syrup challenged my need to finish this blog on lilies.

Fall is the time many folks finally decide to plant some spring bulbs for the first time. I encourage such plantings as they make the dreary days of the last snows and snowbanks melt into great colors that beckon warmth and spring. Daffodils have always been high on our list because they are about impervious to animals, big and small. Neither deer nor voles will eat them and even in poor soil they reproduce and present more flowers for each year to come.

Besides daffodils and probably excepting the tiny crocus and muscari that are seen by the hundreds, tulips are probably the most popular spring bulb. They are less likely to succeed over time and are on about every animal menu somewhere near the top. I tell people if you can get three years out of tulips in Vermont, you're lucky. The species tulips do much better but most that we see in the stores are hybrids and susceptible to "munching". Here are some daffs pictured up top and three tulip bulbs just below.

As much as we like tulips, those who like tulips and lilium have to use care. Tulips are notorious for Tulip Breaking Virus and tulips planted in close proximity to lilies are a gardener's guarantee that in a year, two at most, both the tulips and the lilies will be gone. Aphids are usually the vectors in the case and they do their work around May here but I'm sure they keep spreading the virus into the summer according to their life cycles. I have written before about Gail and Alex planting some nice red tulips close to the walkway garden for their enjoyment. The process resulted in me losing some of the original Journey's End oriental lilies that I had cherished for years. Long and short of it is consider where you plant tulips if you like lilies. Gentle, seemingly insignificant winds might well carry virus laden aphids downwind to your lilies and after that there is no cure.

While I am at it, here's one other caution for fall planting. Stores often carry what many gardeners call "tiger lilies". I'm not sure I can think of another common name ascribed by so many gardeners as representative of the wrong plant. In this case the tiger lily people are mentioning is pictured just below. This is Lilium lancifolium, originally Lilium tigrinum, first named in 1810 and used like potatoes as food in Asia. I never got this figured out because tigers have stripes and tiger lilies have spots and sometimes people call daylilies tiger lilies. This is how I get more confused by what customers really want to by.

Tiger lilies often carry viruses but do not display any symptoms. When other lilies are planted in proximity, aphids, wind, roving animals spread the virus and both varieties die off in a year. Since the tiger lilies reproduce by tiny bulbils generated in leaf axils, there is always ample supply to regenerate another colony. These are nice lilies, very common in most every old time New England garden, but just beware of this caution when planting in your garden. That way you'll protect the beauty of other lilies you have already planted.

Here are a few more from our collection that we enjoy. Until late spring of each year, we have no idea what we still have growing.

Lilium regale

Oriental Rosy Dawn

Siberia


Smokey Mountain Autumn

Uchida

Lancifolium ??? can't remember

Writing from the mountain above Peacham Pond where tonight's temperature will fall into the teens but rebound to the high forties tomorrow. Still time to plant bulbs!

George Africa
The Vermont Gardener
Vermont Flower Farm

Lily Prelude

Oriental Lily
Acapulco

Tuesday, November 10, 2009

6:30 AM here on the mountain and grey clouds speed across the horizon. Tiredness apparently prevails here as Karl the Wonder Dog snores loudly from his bed and except for me, there is no activity. Circadian rhythm? Timing is interesting, especially in the fall when darkness will not leave until about now, only to return again by 4:30 PM.

I often have ideas of subjects I want to write about but with too many irons in the fire, I forget more than I should. Top of the list today is writing a letter to IRS to tell then why we are not the business classification their computer thinks we are. There's something about today's world that makes us do a lot of things over. "There's never time to do it right but always time to do it over" was a little saying an employee actually told me one day explaining what I felt was unacceptable performance. I did what I always do and tried to work through the situation but in the end the person's understanding of my work ethic was such that I cut the strings of being nice and hired someone else. Small businesses have little money or time to spare and after satisfactory training, people have to get things right. I do wish more people would get it right the first few times but I guess we have moved into a new age I will always have trouble adjusting to.

On my list of things to share is more comment about lilies. I have written about them in the past and in early summer I warned gardeners about the lily leaf beetle. I want to mention where to plant and not plant lilies and why, but for the time I have this morning, here are just a few pictures of some lilies I have enjoyed in the past. If you visit Vermont Flower Farm I am sorry to say that we no longer grow lilies for sale, only for our enjoyment. The insect world has provided more competition than we can handle. We will not use heavy chemicals for the sake of a few flowers. End of story.

So for this morning, before I head for Newport, Vermont and the Canadian border, here are a few images. Please stand by.

Arena

Bellingham Hybrid

Black Beauty

Empress

Gold Band

Golden Stargazer

Leslie Woodriff

Lorelei

Mona Lisa

Writing from the mountain above Peacham Pond where two mourning doves compete with seven blue jays for the cracked corn I just dumped on the platform feeder. We have to be careful and only put out what food will be eaten during the day as Mr. Black Bear is here every day, in the adjacent field, eating apples.

George Africa
The Vermont Gardener
Vermont Flower Farm