What can you say about a garden that you visited once and loved? That it was beautiful? That the extent of the exotic and the unusual was beyond that of any other private garden you’ve seen? That it was so magically and artistically arranged in its setting that anyone easily could be swept up in its spell? That once you entered it, you didn’t want to leave?

I am in the midst of my first visit to Heronswood, my first trip to the Pacific Northwest, my first encounter with spring in a climate with which I am unfamiliar. I have been sent here for work, as an employee of W. Atlee Burpee Company. Of course, I had heard the legends about the place, about the horticulture-friendly climate of the Pacific Northwest and the beauty of the Kitsap peninsula, about Seattle and its “cool vibe” and cool weather and its coffee. You get an image in your mind from such talk. Now, three days into my visit, I’m here to tell you – it is all true!

You can’t miss the really, really tall conifers – mostly native Douglas-fir (Pseudotsuga menziesii) and some western cedar (Thuja plicata) – that constitute the woods along the road. Then there is the immenseness of scale of the surrounding region, with Alp-like snow-capped rugged mountains to the west and east, the Puget Sound between us and Seattle, the greenness of the place already, in early April. The cool, damp climate makes an East Coast guy like me wonder how all those different species I am encountering are in leaf so early, when just this morning it was freezing, and so far it hasn’t felt like the temperature has broken 50 degrees.

Actually, the weather when I landed in Seattle two days ago was just like I left it that morning, three thousand miles to the east, at Newark Liberty Airport – gray and chilly. But after a quick (if bracing) jaunt around the waterfront sites and Pike Street Market, stopping to photograph Mahonias in bloom, Acer palmatum cultivars already leafing out in numerous city planter boxes, and other “only in the Pacific Northwest” oddities I couldn’t quite identify by species, my coworker Dave Smicker (a seasoned visitor to these parts – this is his fourth tour of duty since last summer) steers the car to the ferry to Bainbridge Island. That had to be the best ferry ride I’d ever taken – smooth as glass, the vessel was very nicely maintained (nice seats!), and the weather held. Only after we land and start driving toward Kingston does it start to cloud up again, and begin to drizzle.

It is not too long before we arrive at the unassuming gate to Heronswood. It is pouring now as I get settled in. Dave takes me on a tour to get me oriented. Umbrellas in open mode, we dash puddles and mud, and enter the cathedral.

I had been forewarned by George Ball that the “verticality” of the place was amazing. Now I think I know what he meant. The Doug-firs dictate the setting – the straight-up-to-the-sky trunks are thick, corky gray-brown columns, and the shade from their evergreen branches way, way up provides a very high ceiling that darkens portions of the garden, especially under this leaden sky. But you can’t miss the floor as you enter – the sixty-plus mounded island beds are nearly all carpeted in color right now. Along the paths ubiquitous gold and green moss covers the edges. Patches of namesake Hellebores looking pretty close to perfect even if a bit past prime bloom time, stocky trilliums, lots and lots of Anemone and Erythronium, the prostrate Ribes and other woody groundcovers I have little if any familiarity with – all are in bloom. Even if the species are exotic, the effect immediately brings to mind the woodland gardens back home. But why are these Dicentra and beautiful blue Corydalis fully out in ferny leaf and in bloom in early April? Wow.

At eye level there are shrubs heralding spring. The witch hazel relatives with which I am more familiar – the dangling chains of subtle cream beads on various gangly Stachyurus (like ‘Magpie’), the very short soft primrose yellow bells of the more structurally refined Corylopsis ‘Winterthur’ and C. glabrescens gotoana (two other early bloomers but with its mildy-sweet fragrance), various early rhododendrons. They stand out even in the rain and under all that coniferous shade.

Late yesterday the sun started to peak out from behind the clouds. I decide to explore the landscape around the Heron House. There seems to be a different style of garden at every turn. Formality takes over, with hornbeam arches (what a sight – the bare silver stems spiked with bud-tipped spurs still glistening with raindrops) around the bog garden adjacent to the house; a rather substantial box-outlined “Potager” further west; a Magnolia ‘Iolanthe’ in full bloom to the south; the extraordinarily beautiful trunks of well-established specimens of Stewartia pseudocamellia and Acer griseum in the back, a glowing golden semicircle of Cupressus macrocarpa ‘Lutea’ fronted by just-emerging patches of Hakonechloa macra ‘Aureola’ to the northeast. White daffodils scattered strategically near the front door, guarded by the mossy-trunked contortions of the Harry Lauder’s Walkingstick and the stout, leafless stems of a dormant Aralia elata (said to be ‘Variegata’ when in leaf). Ever-present moss carpeting trunks and dripping from branches throughout Heronswood reminds me that I’m in that enchanted temperate rainforest.

The woodland across the driveway beckons me back. Huge, shrub-like tree peonies are starting to leaf out fringy-red at the tips of their bare stems. A large specimen of Magnolia sprengeri ‘Diva’ reminds me of very large versions of the hardier saucer magnolias that hadn’t really opened yet back home. Aptly named, it takes center stage right now. Camellias are in bloom here and there. Scattered rhododendrons are in colors I don’t often see, species only now I am learning. Look at that one with the big red trusses; how about that deep purple R. recurvoides? Hydrangea macrophylla(at least fifty selections) and H. serrata(nine selections) are just leafing out at the tips; the lanky curved H. aspera types(twelve selections, give or take), taller than me, are all pretty dormant still – but look at those H. anomala petiolarisselections climbing the big tree trunks, reaching for the sky! Here and there, they are already in full leaf, new growth more like late May back home! It’s all so out of sequence, so unlike the spring seasons I have known. Can you imagine what this place looks like in May when most of the forty different Viburnum must be at their peak? Or June and July when the hydrangeas bloom? I hope the boss sends me back.

William Rein

Among the earliest gardeners in America are the Irish who traditionally plant potatoes on St. Patrick’s Day, often in the cold and blowing wind. Many Americans know that the failure of the potato crop caused an exodus of Irish natives to the United States. The subsequent contributions of the Irish Americans and their descendents range from politics to law to nearly every type of art and industry. But few are familiar with the Irish people’s profound impact on the potato.

Solanum tuberosum originated in the northern Andes, having been a staple food there for thousands of years, based on a diverse and multicolored crop cultivated extensively by the Inca when Francisco Pizarro arrived in 1532. As today, it thrived in the elevated regions of the subtropics, not unlike a cool summer in Canada.

Europeans were slow to take up the potato. They suspected root crops to be less worthy than aboveground herbaceous vegetables and grains. Oddly, while these medieval superstitions were widely shared among commoners, French and Italian aristocrats treasured the “earth truffle” and “apple of gold” as a delicacy, and court ladies famously wore tiaras of potato blossoms in their hair.

However, the Spanish saw an ideal slave food in the compact, long-lasting and nutritious tubers, one of which would suffice a native miner for an entire day. Colonial British spies noted its efficiency as well as productivity and took the news, and probably tubers as well, back to England.

Before America, Ireland had become Britain’s first true colony. The spud was reckoned to be an ideal crop for the virtual slave population that made up the Irish peasantry. Cheaper to grow and prepare than grain and suited to cool, cloudy summers, the potato was introduced in County Wicklow about 1640. In a few decades the large, lumpy type became the dominant food crop, especially in the populous south.

The adoption of the potato in Ireland set the stage for one of history’s greatest and most tragic ironies. The British generally ignored one of nature’s perfect foods, maintaining instead a poor diet of processed grains, such as flour, and aged meats. On the other hand, fresh and earthy potatoes provided the Irish peasant family with excellent nutrition for over 200 years, until the first of several steadily worsening potato famines beginning in 1830. As a result, Ireland’s rural and impoverished population sky-rocketed from 4 million people in 1780 to more than 8 million in 1841. A diet of potato and dairy products improved Irish health to such an extent that, eventually, Ireland literally dwarfed England. The sturdy Celts became the “Irish giants” of fact as well as fiction. Not only were individual size and strength improved, but also infant mortality was dramatically reduced. Families typically had 6 to 10 surviving children.

Tragedy stuck when a voracious strain of the fungus, Phytophthora infestans, originating in a remote valley in Mexico and causing a disease called blight, escaped and spread throughout Western Europe in 1845. Its prodigiously infectious spores rode the moist winds during the unusually cool, overcast summers of 1846 and 1847. Since many of the several dozen potato cultivars used in this time were related, the fungus devastated the crops not only throughout Ireland, but also across Northern and Central Europe. For instance, Poland was only somewhat less hard hit than Ireland. But the land-locked Poles simply starved en masse, while the Irish had better chances to take to the seas.

In a great reversal of fortune, the potato’s god-sent qualities for Ireland disappeared in the Great Potato Famine, when starvation caused the death of over 1 million people by 1848, more than 12 percent of the population. Millions more immigrated to North America. Ireland had lost nearly half its people by 1900.

Growers and farmers immediately blamed themselves, the soil, the British—even Satan. However, the potato surprisingly rebounded quickly once Irish and British agriculturists found the remedy in new plant-breeding programs based on potatoes from fields that survived. Out of this laboratory of misery, tragedy begot triumph. Many historians consider the Great Potato Famine to have stimulated modern agricultural science, indirectly leading to such work as Mendel’s study of garden peas in the 1860s, which in turn led to the modern science of genetics, and the theory of evolution.

Certainly, the roots of western civilization were conserved by Irish monks, as Thomas Cahill described in his book, How the Irish Saved Civilization. But overlooked is the role the Irish played, and the sacrifices they made, in conserving one of the world’s greatest food crops. As we celebrate St. Patrick’s Day, let us remember the example of the potato’s history in Ireland.

Abraham Lincoln had a modest library, befitting his focused outlook and humble origins. He possessed some law books, since he passed the bar exam by reading and memorizing all he could get his hands on. He famously never set foot in college, much less law school. (Today most states prohibit this; in fact, I don’t know anywhere in the US that a member of the bar is allowed not to complete law school.) However, the core of Mr. Lincoln’s library was unusually small, if shelf feet is the standard of measure. The books he both consulted and reread most often were the complete works of Shakespeare (especially the tragedies), and the Holy Bible. It is said that in his later years, he read nothing else. After all, he was leading a vast and newly constituted nation of a size and political structure the world had never seen. With these two works by his side, he utterly transformed the nation and laid the foundation for the world in the twentieth century.

Imagine Lincoln today. Perhaps it’s not so different, after all. New York City had an extraordinarily vibrant publishing industry that took its cues from the gigantic British book empire headquartered in mid 19th century London. Of course, the Internet is certainly much larger and more convenient, yet the issue persists: the search for eternal wisdom.

When I was visiting Mexico in the mid 70s, I spent several weeks in the capital city or “day-efeh”—Distrito Federal. Mexico City, one of the largest cities in the world, was founded by the Aztecs, and in the 70s its growth was explosive and there was a constant boom—even the beggars were busy. Construction was at a fever pitch and the sprawl there defines the term. Serenading everyone was a big noisy radio station, nicknamed “El Tigre”, that had a unique play list—they played only “Beatles” and “Credence”, as they were called, all day and half the night. Remarkably, it worked—this seemingly dull combination was, in fact, a perfect coupling, like a martini, or a rum and coke. To this day I marvel at how they pulled it off.

I thought about this also when I considered Macbeth and Hamlet on the one hand, and Job and Paul on the other. In contrast, I contemplated the anemia of most public and even much private education. They assign children books like Chicken Soup for the Soul in order to be “relevant”. Here and there are bright spots—find a populous Asian minority in a district and hang on tight. Perhaps your kids will make it to engineering school. I have a friend in LA who moved across town in order to get her children into a school mainly composed of Chinese and Indian subcontinent immigrant offspring.

Back in the garden, if limited to only two titles, I would recommend that the Heronswood customer own and thoroughly enjoy Liberty Hyde Bailey’s Cyclopedia of Horticulture in one of the early to mid 20th century editions, usually ranging 4 to 6 volumes, and Michael Dirr’s Manual of Woody Plants. Granted, none of us are guiding a young democracy through civil war, rather we’re earnestly pursuing an active and detailed hobby. So we may have shelves and shelves of garden law books, so to speak. I must have at least 50 titles in my small horticulture library. But I found the best, and certainly the most enjoyable, are Bailey and Dirr. I. H. Burkill’s Dictionary of Economic Plants of The Malay Peninsula is very rare but a precious gem as well. Also highly recommended is The History and Social Influence of the Potato by R. N. Salaman. The universe in a spud. For getting started, Roger Swain’s elegantly simple The Practical Gardener, Earthly Pleasures and Groundwork are indispensable.

My dad hated “throwing money at problems”, yet he was as guilty as most folks in business, and even more of us in our personal lives. Money easily seduces its owners into madness. Its abuse leaves long and terrible hangovers. Always better to “work the problem”.

Just as mythological as the silver bullet of money is the magical power of technology. Money does nothing more than buy you things; technology merely extends the range of existing abilities. Technology is as deaf, dumb and blind as ten million dollars. The true romance of resources is found in the miner’s tale, the farmer’s story, the captain’s log, the soldier’s diary, the death of a salesman.

So what’s it all about, Alfie?

The greatest challenge in commerce is to serve the public, to sell to the masses. I’ve had many talks with scientists and inventors who insist on “a little more time” or “more space” or—most frequently—”more money” to achieve their perfect goal. The curse of the PhD in business is to develop his work to the full capacity of its technical range, with no regard to the fact that the customer does not want it. The secret to product development is in the intermediate range. “But I can do this,” the breeder protests, when you announce the release date of his new cultivar. There is nothing more fatal than a “perfect” product.

Usually given to the breeder by a dissertation advisor, this wretched curse of the goal of perfectibility weakens over time. The alternatives are enduring a miserable collegial environment, or quitting for another profession, such as religion (not uncommon). However, often a research professional finds an effective niche in business with savvy marketers. It doesn’t happen very frequently—but neither does a rousing success. The tip of the pyramid is small.

Whether the industry is automobiles, consumer electronics, fine food or gardening, greatness results from a balance between the possible and the desirable. Wine is a great example. If you want to blast through an evening, Two Buck Chuck, or the ubiquitous box wine, does the trick. For a less crude experience, you may choose from several hundred more expensive, distinctive and enjoyable wines. At the top, for a truly memorable long night, there are several dozen wineries that demand about fifty dollars a bottle. For these wines to be successful, the winemaker goes not to the full extent of his technical ability, but works out a balance between his resources of time and money on one hand, and personal and collegial talents on the other to find the taste that hits the bull’s-eye. It is complex work that requires huge energy, talents, and sensitivity. The tastings by the judges are run blind, ranked on a numerical scale and published in widespread wine magazines. I stumble over stacks of them at the local Borders. No amount of money or technological resources created the stunning achievements of Warren Winiarski or Michael Grgich, the two Napa winemakers who beat the best of French wines in 1976. Rather, they literally lived with the vines, worked hundreds of sleepless nights in the wineries, and intimately understood their customers’ palates. No technology or money involved.

Most of us wake up to three feet of snow and feel overwhelmed by the daunting task of shoveling and piling up all the white stuff just to get to work or school. We also anticipate many weeks of boredom ahead as the cold wind blows across the icy snow. But while we are curled up on the couch reading thrillers or gardening catalogs, and listening to the weatherman forecasting more snow, the gardeners among us are breaking out in secret smiles.

What few people know is that a heavy snowfall acts as a geothermal blanket for your garden and landscape plants. Call it the “igloo effect”. The desiccating winds of winter, in combination with sub-freezing temperatures, are lethal to garden plants, as well as many herbaceous woodland plants. Only when wrapped in a heavy blanket of snow and, even better, topped off with a thin duvet cover of ice, do your precious perennial plants and low lying shrubs sleep the beauty sleep—well protected from the forces of Old Man Winter.

Think of the vibrant lushness of spring grasses in northern New England and across New York to northern Michigan and Minnesota: the long, rich green blades are unique to the northern latitudes, but also to the lands blessed by a long and heavy mantle of snow. Not only does the winter blanket conserve the earth’s heat, but also it disperses the intense winter sunlight evenly across the subsurface, saturating the tops of the plants with gentle and even light. Those of us down here near the Mason-Dixon line and across the central plains to Missouri and Kansas—we don’t have the heavy snow cover, so the sudden cold snaps and the high winds “prune” our herbaceous perennials and grasses down to the quick, if not below the soil. Thus, except deep in the ravines, our springs are not anywhere near as verdant as those of our northern neighbors. Compared to our neighbors to the south, for whom winter is a wet and clammy death, the snowbound folks from Maine to Connecticut and across Wisconsin, should be very happy indeed.

So, blessed be the winter snows.

February 15, 2008

Mr. Paul Lagasse
Columbia University Press
136 S. Broadway
Irvington, NY 10533-2599

Dear Mr. Lagasse:

I very much enjoy and admire The Columbia Encyclopedia Sixth Edition. The writing and editing is absolutely fantastic. There are to my knowledge only two related errors I wish to point out. Also, I offer a few suggestions which I hope you find useful.

First, the interesting descriptions of the landscape architects A. J. Downing and Calvert Vaux contain an inconsistency that is probably just a typo. On page 2969, the Vaux entry states, “He emigrated (1857) to the United States with A. J. Downing, with whom he was first associated.” On page 822, the Downing entry lists him as deceased in 1852. Also, I’m not certain of it, but I don’t think that Downing spent such a significant time in England during his relatively short life to have emigrated from it, particularly when, as you state, he was born in Newburgh, New York.

On a purely subjective level, I request the inclusion of the novelist Bruce Chatwin, psychologist and author Irving Janis (who coined the term “group think”), musician and composer Frank Zappa, painter Wifredo Lam, anthropologists and authors Edmund Snow Carpenter, Edward T. Hall (who coined the term “polychronic” which is now called “multitasking”) and John Greenway, author and editor George Plimpton, inventor and pioneer photographer Marc Ferrez, philosopher Mikhail Bakhtin, classics scholar and author Edith Hamilton, poet Else Lasker Schueler (Heine’s successor as Germany’s greatest romantic poet), and art critic Mario Praz. They were all highly influential and in some cases popular contributors to their respective fields.

The founder of our company, W. Atlee Burpee, pioneered American vegetables by selectively breeding Northern European and English cultivars to become adapted to the US climate. He introduced the first yellow sweet corn (before then sweet corn was white), and the first iceberg lettuce—thereby making salad a year round rather than an exclusively seasonal dish. His many breeding breakthroughs included Black Beauty, the first large and uniform eggplant (extremely popular in the middle east), the first stringless green bean, the Fordhook lima bean, as well as Big Boy, the world’s most popular tomato. As a geneticist rather than a large landowner, he formed the first modern scientific seed company, based primarily on research rather than on harvest-based production methods, and land-holding advantages. He was a cousin of Luther Burbank and collaborated with him and Thomas Edison on developing industrial products such as rubber from native wildflowers. He also did much to help developing countries.

Also, his daughter-in-law, Lois Burpee, co-founded Welcome House with Pearl Buck, to which you refer in the latter’s entry. Both grew up as daughters of missionary fathers in China. When they met as neighbors in Bucks County, Pennsylvania, they became close friends and developed together the idea to provide adoptions and other assistance to Amerasian war orphans.

Also, Doylestown, Pennsylvania, is the seat of Bucks County and has a population of about 25,000. Its omission is odd to me because you list my hometown of Glen Ellyn, Illinois, a Chicago suburb and bedroom community of about 25,000. Yet in addition to the courthouse, Doylestown has several important museums, including the Henry Mercer Museum, the James Michener Museum, the Moravian Pottery Works, Fonthill Castle (one of the first poured concrete buildings in the US), Fordhook Farm (of Burpee fame), and Delaware Valley College (DVC), one of the few small (1,600 students) agricultural colleges left in the nation, and regularly scoring at the top of small college rankings (#25 at USA Today 2007 Report).

In addition, DVC has a fascinating history. It was founded by Rabbi Jacob Krauskopf in 1897. He was a German immigrant who led an urban congregation (Keseneth Israel) in Philadelphia that was experiencing a large influx of impoverished Russian immigrants. On a sabbatical to Europe, he visited Russia to consult people who might advise him about his struggle. He was profoundly inspired by a long meeting with Tolstoy, during which the great novelist, mystic and farmer suggested that he start a Jewish agricultural college—an unheard of idea at the time. Krauskopf returned home, obtained funds from members of the Philadelphia-area Jewish community and bought several adjacent farms 30 miles north of the city in order to create the National Farm School, the world’s first Jewish agricultural college. (It is now called Delaware Valley College.) Many of America’s kosher dairy, chicken and egg farms were started by the college’s early graduates. After the founding of Israel, many students as well as faculty moved there to work in the new agricultural projects, including the Vulcani Institute, Israel’s first and in some areas most important agricultural research institute. Krauskopf also wrote several books, including Evolution and Judaism, considered by scholars to be one of the finest such studies of the time. An excellent biography, Apostle of Reason, is by William Blood. Quite a story.

Last but not least, you omit the large Mexican city of Culiacan, the capital of the state of Sinaloa. It has a large population (approximately 500,000). Also, it is older than most cities in the region. It is considered the center of tomato production and processing in North America.

Thanks again for your fine work and consideration of my suggestions.

Sincerely,
George Ball

The Sunday Star, Easton Md, Sunday, February 10, 2008.

As an estimated 40 million US gardeners select their seeds to sow for fall harvest, the nation’s voters choose their candidates for November’s presidential election. Resonant horticultural metaphors are not coincidental, but spring from the roots of civilization. Gardens illustrate the processes of democratic governments, from the seasonal rhythms to the careful hand picking of the appropriate candidates from the many in the field. Do we have a southern or northern exposure? Do we prefer green, blue or red? Puffy or spiky? Sweet corn or savory beans? While one party displays a wide range of diverse tastes, such as the Republicans, the other shows two outwardly divergent candidates with profoundly similar and deep ideological roots.

In a garden, our choices must balance expectations with realities if the plants are to thrive. The site’s ecology, soil preparation, access to the wealth of water—all are phenomena as persistent as age-old domestic and foreign issues, and as devastating in their consequences in the hands of a lackadaisical gardener or an inattentive citizenry. Thus, as the garden mirrors the gardener, true democracy—and the choice of its leader—reflects the people. So how do we grow a president?

First is to eschew religion. Gardens neither appear nor disappear by magic, but gradually develop over time through tested knowledge and dedicated practice. In a democracy, outcomes are not faith-based. The ancestors who instructed us to garden successfully also taught us to keep the gods out of the garden. Religion serves to sort out fundamental personal struggles, but not to make the plants grow. A precious drop of empirical science yields more fertile public policy than the grandest theology.

Second, avoid the allure of novelty. The untried becomes as odious as the unknown, in the White House as in the garden. Four of the last five presidents have been governors, equally from both parties, leading at least one of our united states: a good start. Training is essential, but there is no substitute for experience. Authenticity and honesty are crucial. Beware of both handling and packaging. Look for the unmistakable qualities of candor and integrity, and beware of both the recently converted as well as the unripe. Green is not always good.

Third, disregard both race and gender. Martin Luther King, Jr. spoke for women as well as African-Americans—in fact, he spoke to all Americans when he praised the value of character and warned of the seduction of appearances. If a woman, or an ethnic or racial minority, possesses the inner qualities you seek, he or she should get your vote. A garden’s harvest depends on the quality of the seed and careful attention to the planting. The effects of the environment are negligible, including disasters. Similarly, a leader’s ability to withstand pressure is a matter of individuality, not identity.

Indeed, history plays the essential role in the success of a garden—past is prelude. Chance plays no role; like politics, gardening is a sober-minded business. Only by continuous testing is a garden—and a president—proved. As with locally elected officials, the nominees’ choices determine our selection. We choose, not based on their offers, but on our decisions. Therefore, let us match the prodigious wealth, staff resources and charisma of the candidates, with demands for their complete backgrounds and political records, and harness today’s new media—C-Span and the Internet among them—to sow our seeds of political will.

Finally, bear in mind that our political garden remains the Congress, where interests are cultivated and laws planted together, while the Supreme Court acts as the ultimate vineyard of truth. Nevertheless, the commander-in-chief must resolve, rather than compromise, and ultimately grasp the nettles of conflict, both foreign and domestic. Only through the Executive Branch do we speak with literally one voice. Only under the watchful eye and steady hand of the President will the nation flower into sound legislation and fruitful public policy.

The Sunday Star, Easton Md, Sunday, February 10, 2008.

The Blogging Nurseryman – The only gutsy retailer I have found. Puts himself out there. As expected, he blogs depending on time available.

Dig In With Kym – An award-winning garden writer, Ms. Pokorny comes from a nursery family and writes with great intelligence. One of the few to give us a fair shake, she traveled from Portland to our Open House in Seattle to see for herself.

Doug Green’s Garden – Nice “over the fence” feel to this site by an ex-garden retailer from Ontario, Canada. Blogs expansively.

Fast Grow The Weeds – Pithy, vegetable-oriented blog by an organic farmer from Michigan. Excellent writer.

Garden Large – Worthy website and infrequently updated blog by an acclaimed landscape designer. Note the controversy over the fate of Gifford Garden.

gardenpath – Quiet, lovely Maine blog with photos, haiku and well-chosen links. Mostly a nature blog with some gardening, befitting Maine.

Karel Capek – One of the 20th century’s little known literary giants.

Lee Child – Exceptional thrillers.

Marshall McLuhan – The man who predicted the future of society.

Mr. McGregor’s Daughter – Only a few miles from where I was raised, so it’s a big favorite, and a straightforward, often funny Midwestern garden blog. However, reverse-typed.

A Not So Simple Garden – Title says it all—a plantsman of the old school, or “particularizer”. Loves pelargonium, which might be my favorite plant.

Rainy Side Gardeners – More “super-site” than blog, but always has peculiar and fascinating tidbits about life in the Pacific Northwest, as well as great photos. Steadfast friend of Heronswood, then and now.

The Refrigerator – Anti-nostalgic urban site about the obscure charms of Rochester, New York—and there are many.

Sin In Linen – Amusing pirate and tattoo sheets and pillowcases.

A Study In Contrasts – The reverse type is the only thing difficult to read on this cheerful, quirky and highly detailed garden blog.

Think or Thwim – Witty site about “green design”.

Today In The Garden – Photo-oriented blog has such a happy vibe that the reverse type is almost okay.

True Dirt – Eccentric blog from an artistic and architectural perspective. Should get a new layout and lose the reverse type. (Folks think it makes the pictures pop—it doesn’t.) But very interesting writer.

Two Peas In A Bucket – Scrapbook blogs are cheerful.

Utah Forest Wilderness – Intensely beautiful scenery, such as the Aquarius Plateau,
The Blues (part of the Grand Staircase) and the felicitously named Tusher Mountains.

View From Federal Twist – Mr. Golden is down the road from Fordhook, so we visit his site for comparos. Award-winning designer, cutting edge plantsman and great critic with an attractive medium tempo blog and excellent links.

Wallace Matthews – An ex-boxer who pens an almost perfect weekly sports column at Newsday, a NYC/Long Island daily. Great journalist whose articles are models of effective writing.

Wander World – I ‘m not sure what A.W. is getting at, but that’s the point.

Akvavit – What’s not to like?
April Winchell – LA has everything and it’s not fair.
Campaign for Real Beauty – Dove deserves much credit for their non-profit work with girls.
Church of the Masses – Interesting media reviews from a Catholic screenwriter.
Drive By Truckers – A bit precious but great band.
Funny The World – Wonderful daily blog.
Meg In A Box – Or “In a New Box”, fascinating personal blog.
Nomadics – Oasis-like literary site emphasizes translations and spins off in surprising directions.
The Obscure Store – Funny trivia.
Olde Wash – You should visit this shrine.
Presurfer – A needle in a haystack of needles.
Wonderful Pig Knowledge – What’s not to like?

Over the last few years, US automakers have introduced not merely world-class, but superior cars in every category, and all this has happened with astonishingly little fanfare or notice in the press. The four-door sedans include the nearly flawless 300 from Chrysler, the ultra-sharp 2008 Chevrolet Malibu, and my favorite, the redesigned 2008 Ford Taurus. Subcompacts include the Italian-looking Aveo and Cobalt from Chevy and the Ford Focus, the best small car of the last decade. Pontiac and Saturn offer sweet convertible sports cars and Ford’s Mustang is a design masterpiece. Luxury cars include the 300C as well as every model of Cadillac.

No foreign manufacturer can beat these cars for value. The fact that they are designed and made in the USA, the greatest nation in the world, seems to have been ignored, even by their marketers. The “big three” are running lackluster ads. For example, the Focus is a blast to drive and gets great mileage, but Ford pushes its tedious hands-free communications system. Similarly, they soft-sell the Taurus’s safety features, when it is a virtual S-class Mercedes at a third the price.

If personality is your thing, Chevy’s HHR and Pontiac’s Vibe deliver quirkiness as well as mechanical brilliance. Plus, both Ford and Chevy offer excellent hybrids. It’s a good thing when you can go to the big three’s car lots and smile all day. I’ve owned both German and Japanese cars. I’ve also traded them in for American cars, as soon as I saw what Detroit was producing. Ford has been especially impressive, but then I’ve always been partial to the Taurus, ever since the 1986 introduction year, even during the last few years’ jellybean designs. But Nissan gave Ford a wake-up call, which they heard, big time. And a used 1968 Malibu was the first car I owned, so it’s going to be fun to watch how the impressive new version progresses. The Japanese and Germans produce good cars, but all those profits going overseas bugs me. I admit the Honda Fit is hard to resist—until you drive the Focus. Ditto the Lancer and Impreza, until you drive the Fusion.

Now that Chrysler, Dodge and Jeep are back in American hands, God bless them. Detroit has a new lease on life.