‘Life will not be denied!” is the cry that often goes up when I am in the garden, especially when I’m pulling weeds that have come up in the path through layers of cardboard and wood chips. Sometimes the undenied life is beautiful like this tendril of a Grandpa Ott morning glory that just peeked through the slats in the Welcoming Platform in front of the house. A couple of years ago I planted a teepee of Grandpa Otts in a large pot on the Platform. Volunteers crawled through the herb bed last year, but I saw nothing this year – until now.
- Post published:08/29/2009
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