New sod plus evening shade equals happy dog.

No muss, no fuss.

I’m not a big fan of container gardening with annuals. Too many rules (pot a vertical plant with a vine), too much repetition (start over every summer), and too easy to ignore (they need constant watering).

Perennials, on the hand, are a different story. I potted this blue hosta and Japanese fern four summers ago when I was moving around plants in the courtyard, and it hasn’t disappointed. I leave it outside, where is dies back every winter. In March, like clockwork, the hosta emerges followed by the fern. I nudge it along with a little water now and then, and by early June, it's fragrant and blooming.

Always listen to your daddy.

This is my new hose. Notice the shiny nozzle, because that’s the only good thing about it.

Why did I buy this piece of crap? Even worse: Why did I spend $36 for a no-kink, easy to coil, lifetime warranty hose that a) kinks, b) is not easy to coil, and c) certainly won’t last a lifetime as I’ll probably throw it away in a fit of fury?

It’s because I ignored my father’s disapproval while I waited in line at Lowe’s. He had strong beliefs about the practical tasks that pull our days together. When it comes to hoses, they have to be rubber, he insisted. And to prove his point, the rubber hose he bought 20 years ago is still in use at my mom’s house. And it’s perfect. And it doesn’t kink.

So here’s my question: Where can you buy a rubber hose these days?

You can't eat them, but they sure are beautiful.

The flowers of early June in Memphis are a tenacious sort. They put up with neglect, too much rain or too little, and the endless march of weeds that overwhelms the spring bloomers.

My favorite June flower is this deep pink native I bought years ago at the Lichterman Nature Center plant sale (it's the first photo). I can’t remember its name - although it’s written down somewhere - but does it matter? It’s jumped many times around my perennial bed and is especially happy draped over a rock or two.

Here’s what else is blooming in my yard: lillies, bee balm (yes, the bees do show up), coreopsis, and two kinds of hydrangea: lace leaf and oak leaf. And that spiderwort that started blooming in early May? Still going strong.

Trees really do grow in Brooklyn.

When Anna and I were wandering around Williamsburg two weeks ago, we spotted this fragrant lilac tree near the garden for Barking Lizards, a gallery at Bedford and North 4th. It was a much-needed break from the hipsters and the concrete.

“The city just showed up one day and asked us if we wanted a tree,” explained gallery owner Wanda Drake. “It turned out to be a lilac, and it’s putting on quite a show.”

Drake also is looking forward to the rebirth of the gallery’s rose garden, which was hit hard when the gallery was renovated last year. One hearty survivor was this oak leaf hydrangea, which had been more than eight feet tall.

“We thought we had lost it,” Drake said. “But here it is, making a comeback. I think it’s unbelievable.”

Guerilla tactics: gotta love 'em.

Lately, I've been wondering what kind of eccentric old lady I will turn out to be. This I know: my job description will include "guerrilla gardener." Maybe I can hook up with these kids in L.A.

In the meantime, I'm enjoying this lovely stand of field flowers at the intersection of Butler and Front streets in downtown Memphis. I admire them regularly on the way home from work.

Believe it or not!

To the doubters out there (you know who you are), I say take a look at this: a garden is born in my side yard.

The lasagne bed was finished before my trip to Maryland, and the plants and seeds were planted before my trip to Brooklyn. It was difficult to trust Tony with the watering while I was gone, but he did a great job. When I returned home on Memorial Day, the beans were already six inches tall, proving that the author of Jack and the Beanstalk knew a little something about growing food.

Here's what I've squeezed into 48 square feet: one beefsteak tomato and two Roma tomatoes from Lowe’s; one Thai chili pepper and one banana pepper from Easy Way; two heirloom tomatoes, two eggplants, two cucumbers, one cantaloupe, and lots of sweet and purple basil from Grow Memphis: half a dozen “Grandma Nellie’s Yellow Mushroom" snap beans, four “Blue Lake” bush beans, and a row of long pod green okra. I grew the beans and okra from seeds. They are all heirloom varieties, as are the plants from Grow Memphis.

I can see the garden from my kitchen window, so I check on it every day before coffee (a remarkable display of morning enthusiasm) and then again and again throughout the day. It's ridiculous. In and out. In and out. I'm hoping I calm down before Griffin goes nuts. He thinks it's time for a walk every time I push open the gate.