Jane Clute

It was my turn to have a church circle meeting at my house last week. On such occasions, I have a habit of stuffing my pockets with clippers and scissors and heading to the yard in search of something to fill a vase.

Huff, huff. Pant, pant. Just finished (quit is more like it) cutting back lots of hardy begonias, impatiens, lilies, hostas, elephant ears — probably tiger ears too — before the cold bites them and turns 'em into yucky green slime.

For years, I've fussed and fumed at myself for not having enough fall color in our yard. Especially when it comes to shrubs and berry-producing plants that birds love. Yet, I haven't done a blessed thing to make it happen. But if you intend to plant shrubs, November is prime time to get out the shovel.

Several times over the years, I've mentioned a plant I absolutely adore that popped up in a flowerbed soon after we moved here and has put smiles on my face every year since. My mystery plant, I call it.

How long has it been since you've had a serious talk with your houseplants? I'm often guilty of neglecting to do so until company is coming or we're having folks over for dinner or a plant just up and kicks the bucket.

In case you haven't heard, it's official now. We're having another drought. Nobody should have to tell you it's dry around here. If you doubt my word, quit watering your pansies or try to dig a hole or pull up some weeds.