
To Kill and To Eat
Farming chickens takes care and concentration, and a deal with the birds: We give you a life of safety and comfort, and you die for our food. Until a murdering predator arrives and gives lie to the vow.
Farming chickens takes care and concentration, and a deal with the birds: We give you a life of safety and comfort, and you die for our food. Until a murdering predator arrives and gives lie to the vow.
An illustrated catalog of abuse taking place across the country, in cities large and small, where trees are being hacked, whacked, and chopped into unnatural shapes in the name of power.
Prisoners garden. Spies garden. Gardening is good for every soul. But a desire to garden doesn't a gardner make. A story of slaughtering plants.
Marigolds wither, periwinkles rot, and a tree mysteriously dribbles cat urine. Our writer is in over her head, once more, with plants.
New York's empty balconies need filling. Our writer inaugurates a new series about urban-gardening warfare and southeastern-facing frustration.
Spring is popping up all around New York City, but those crocuses have a dark history. Explaining the Pagan past of what's growing on 87th Street.
Sounds can take us home—even when that home belongs to someone else, and the sounds are of obscure gardening comedy.
We preserve old buildings, why not old landscapes? Transplanted horticulturalist JESSICA FRANCIS KANE discovers a mysterious garden outside time's realm in Greenwich Village.
Now a New Yorker, our resident green essayist brings her yardwork series to the big city, even if it means breaking into private plots.
Departing the (garden) lovers' state for one that loves its cement and money more, our scribbler of the lillies Our writer realizes the crucial difference between caring about plants and caring for them.
Our resident poet of the orange blossoms discovers the literary charms of gardening catalogs: reading for aesthetic pleasure, also for planning the future.
The botanical arts can be passed down, whispered along, or demonstrated with a spade. But who the teacher turns out to be can be a greater surprise than his secrets for growing tomatoes. Our resident gardener gets ready for the Fourth of July.
What sort of gardener looks forward to winter's first frost? Our in-house green thumb doubts herself after seeing what an expert Virginia gardener--and her garden--looks like.
When a loved one's houseplants are divided up, what you get isn't a condition of your standing as a relative, but of your ability as a gardener. Our writer has a story of memory and maintenance, and the discovery of a special bond.
Drooping flowers are no gardener's friend. So how can you fix them? And, more to the point, how did these things ever get by without us? A few simple ways to make the world bend to our will.
One person's porch is another's stomping ground; one person's garden is another's view. This week: How to share the world with your neighbors or, failing that, how to suffer their existence.
Even in urban decay, nature can find a way to thrive. This week: Making the case for making friends with your neighbors, both human and insect.
We want gardening to seem so natural, something any of us, given a trowel, can do. But the autodidacts among us should realize that sometimes help is needed. This week: How a mail-order gardening tool saved a marriage.