Thursday, March 7, 2013


Harper Lee (courtesy of The Guardian)

            Lately, I’ve been thinking a lot about Harper Lee. When asked why she never published a second novel after To Kill a Mockingbird, she’d say something like, “I guess I didn’t have anything else I wanted to say.”

            As the weeks slide past and my muse apparently has taken herself off on an extended vacation, it occurs to me that perhaps I don’t have anything left I want to say either. About gardening, I mean.

            Knowing when to quit is an inexact science—just look at Claude Monet’s “Water Lilies” and the chunky-breasted bathers of Renoir’s last years, the post-Ludlum Bourne books and that pathetic “sequel” to Gone with the Wind Alexandra Somebody foisted on us, or string theory. As a believer in the law of diminishing returns, I feel it’s time to put “Gardening from the Ground Up” out to pasture. Long may she graze in cyber-space, in 18-to-29-second hits.

            To Billie, and Julie, and Chuck, and Yvonne and Karen and Margaret: you know where to find me if you want. I so appreciate your support and the comments and conversations. Just so you know: that part doesn’t have to end.

The old writer
            To paraphrase Douglas MacArthur (that self-promoting SOB), old writers never die. They just turn the page.

            One last time, thanks for dropping by.



  1. Hi Kathy,
    I'm going to miss your observations and energy! Selfish of me, isn't it? At the same time, I'm excited for you in your next adventures, whatever they are. And, yes, the connection is not severed, just altered.
    I'm just back from Mexico, avoiding the 'cold' winter in Wilmington, and am preparing the put a few veggies in the ground. I'll be thinking of you.

  2. I too shall miss your erudite, wry, sassy pants commentary on the gardening world and the world at small and large. I wish you the best in your next foray. Work has swallowed me whole, and rarely allows me a burp of respite. I find myself still waiting to get older. Just like when I was 12, waiting to be 16. Or 16 waiting to be 18....and so on. Now I am 59 waiting to be 61. Be well my friend.