Renegade Garden settles in for a winters nap...

I am not only a Putnamaniac, but a Renegade Gardener...

With the nickname my brother and sister gave to me, "Digger", you know there is gardening in my soul.

I was in the garden with my Poppa since the time I was in diapers. Poppa returned me to my mother, time after time, soaking wet and covered with dirt. I cried my eyes out, even before I could talk, if Poppa went back out to the earth without me. Mom gave in and let him take me back to the dirt every time. Thank goodness. I loved my Poppa and digging in the dirt.

The "tree farm family" was part of my life for 25 years, and even though I am not there this season, it is still a part of me!

Sam, the elderly neighbor I had at the first house I owned, used to drive by at 6am on his way to get coffee every morning to see what I was digging up or planting before I went to work. He used to joke that I couldn't make up my mind. Alas, that is what gardening is. Things grow, you move them! You find other new things that you just MUST have!

So now I am in a condo, with distinct and strict rules about personal displays, such as gardens. A wonderful loophole was discovered/invented (by me) in my "backyard". Where the tiny yard ends, a steep slope goes down to the river. It was nothing but weeds and rocks. LOTS of rocks - I mean this is New England.

So, I went to work, and the Renegade Garden was born. My next door neighbors love it, too, as they can view it from their porch as well. They have even contributed to the mayhem and donated a butterfly bush via a gift certificate from Sprucedale Gardens.

Now, the Renegade Gardens slumbers, like all our New England gardens. I miss it already and can't wait till next spring. A million new ideas are planted in my imagination. Long live the Renegade Garden!

I am a Putnamaniac thanks to the wonderful gardens, including my Renegade Garden!