My dad – a dentist in the little Texas town where I grew up – was greeted with an open mouth showing him an aching tooth or receding gum line almost as often as a hand to shake.

 As a professional landscape designer and garden writer, I often find myself in a similar position. Whether at church, a ballgame, online, or even in a public restroom, I’m quizzed about problems in the garden.  I love my job, so except for the lady who tried to follow me into my stall at a restaurant, I enjoy the challenge of a long distance prognosis, just as Daddy never seemed to mind the intrusion into his private life.

So feel free to stand outside the door and ask away……  just ignore the flush. cc:

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