Jane Clute

Seems like the hose has become a permanent appendage around here, but for some reason, neither of us paid any attention to our river birches — not until a neighbor kindly pointed out that they'd lost half their leaves in a matter of days.

If we didn't have Gov. Mark Sanford or the heat, what would we talk about? (Frankly, I think the two belong in the same sentence.) The past week has been one with more questions than answers, both politically and in the garden.

Have mercy! Is there no end to weeding and pruning? Guess it's because we were blessed with good spring rains, although several big black clouds have slid right around us lately with hardly any offering. But the weeds — ouch.

It's a wonder our yard isn't as slick as a peeled onion. Last time I looked — oh, maybe 30 seconds ago — 10 teenage geese and four parental guardians were inspecting the place, heads-down, for the umpteenth time this morning. Evidently in search of a bacon, egg and cheese biscuit.

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.