Pulling Weeds in the Allegory Garden
“Please don’t call the police,” she says.
Dendritic Remembrance
Each of those shorn poplars may well have been genetically identical, but those of us in the serious tree-climbing business knew that didn’t mean squat.
My Evolving Coffee Palate: A Timeline
I distinctly remember drinking an entire pot one night.
Sun Chips and Firewood
At least I now know not to compost in the shade.
Blood Blossoms
The poppies were there first.
Transplants
Without a breaking loose of the old, sometimes there simply isn’t room to grow.
Native Plants Are My Love Language
I’ve found that loving myself means letting myself love and delight in the things around me.
The Conquest of the Sower
Missionary Conquest’s colonialism for Christ is not exceptional at all.
The Banana Tree and Me
It seemed like half our kitchen had been taken up by the banana tree, bringing a bit of the tropics into snowy Wisconsin.
Coming Up Metaphors
You’ll see where this is going. The whole plants-as-metaphor thing is tired, I know, but it’s potent.
