GOOD MORNING, SPRING
By Phyllis Galowitz
It’s 5 AM, April 27th. What a difference two weeks make. As the sky opens up to a new day and the sunrise reflects pink clouds above the still dark landscape below, I see the silhouette of the tall sugar maple in front of my window being reborn after its long winter sleep. Blossoms not there yesterday are suddenly unfurling.
GARDEN PHYLLISOPHY – March 2009
By Phyllis Galowitz
The sun is shining. The hills are blanketed with the remains of the light snow that fell a few days ago. It barely covers the dirty look of ashes strewn along the roadsides and driveways, to keep the ice that never melted, following day after day of freezing temperatures, from causing dangerous driving and walking conditions.
GARDEN PHYLLISOPHY – February 2009
By Phyllis Galowitz
We were just sitting down to dinner, in front of the glass doors to the deck. The lamp above the kitchen table lit a small area of the pitch-black evening outside the door. A moving thing caught our eyes. At first glance, I thought, is it a cat? But it didn’t look like either of our neighbor’s cats.
GARDEN PHYLLISOPHY – January 2009
By Phyllis Galowitz
The timing couldn’t have been better. Two days before Thanksgiving, I tripped over the curb in front of Price Chopper as I was planning to do some last minute food shopping …
GARDEN PHYLLISOPHY – December 2008
By Phyllis Galowitz
The sun is bright but I’m not anxious to do any gardening on this cold day. I’m happy to sit at the kitchen table and enjoy the almost winter garden, the birds feeding, the chipmunks and juncos cleaning up the fallen sunflower seeds and the bright, contrasting shadows on the leaf-carpeted floor of the woods behind my house, while Mahler’s Symphony #1 fills my ears.