What’s a summer garden without hiccups? Weeds double in height when your back is turned and since the baby crows have fledged, their parents dive-bomb
What’s a summer garden without hiccups? Weeds double in height when your back is turned and since the baby crows have fledged, their parents dive-bomb
During these times of climate change and COVID, it’s easy to take life too seriously. Any excuse to laugh feels like mountain-fresh air. Take last week when I’d lost all sense of taste and
“It’s been said that gardens and children need the same things — patience, love, and someone who will never give up on them.” [Nicolette Sowder] As a child, I spent many happy hours outdoors. I climbed trees, built stick forts…
I was walking home along a gravel road, houses on the left side, and a steep embankment on the right. Heavy with rain, the salmonberry bushes and young mountain ash trees arched over the roadbed like miniature lampposts
Q: How to get rid of chickweed? A: Don’t try to beat it, EAT IT! On most Tuesdays, I teach an online class called the Compost Academy. Students, mostly women, from Alabama to Australia, meet in lively Zoom meetings. It’s…
If you compost, you might find this question interesting. If you don’t compost, I’ll be upfront: You and your garden are missing out. Big time. Anyway, here’s the
Last week’s span of warm, clear days found island gardeners scrambling outside, perched on bended knee pulling weeds, transplanting seedlings, and slaying slugs. It was a flurry of activity that reminded me of a children’s story
What can be better than the smell of cinnamon and a bowl of hot fruit topped with just the right amount of crunch?
With the return of sunshine, comes the return of dandelions, raising their yellow heads above your lush, green lawn. Against all odds, this is my annual plea to NOT
I built my first compost pile around 1986. Over the years (decades, yikes!) I consider myself to be on intimate terms with dozens of materials, from toilet paper rolls to pineapple rinds (not recommended
I’m Marion Owen. I work, relax, and love life in Kodiak, Alaska. I’ve worked on research ships, created photographs that hang in The Smithsonian, given up cheese and meat, and enjoy watching bumblebees and snowflakes. And somewhere along the line, I co-authored the New York Times bestseller, Chicken Soup for the Gardener’s Soul. I’m learning how to not do too much. To be authentic, embrace joy, and not burn the oatmeal.
Thank you for being here,
