Posted on | November 18, 2011 | No Comments
My hand aches. My back aches. There is no end of aching in sight. What a wonderful year. As Thanksgiving approaches, gratitude runs deep. I am thankful for a remarkably generous rain year, for California poppies, for sunflowers, local horse-stable manure so good that the guy who composts it calls it “craptonite,” for the bare-root plum tree that turned out to be a quince, for lemon-soaked quince wedges in stir fries, for the inventor of ibuprofen. This year, above all, I’m thankful for the things that I used to throw away.
Click here to keep reading in this week’s LA Times Dry Garden column about the wonders of salvaged wood, perfect for making wattle fences.