From Stanley Kunitz's exquisite book The Wild Braid , I have moved on to Edith Harding's equally beautiful The Country Diary of an Edwardian Lady . (Both of these, as well as Green Thoughts: A Writer in the Garden by Eleanor Perenyi, were recommendations via Facebook. It's amazing how useful something so frivolous as FB can be!) I can't explain why in the fall I suddenly feel the need to read up on gardening; maybe I'm subconsciously preparing for the coming spring? Usually it's rather pointless, as I only have six five-gallon pickle buckets to plant in (though I do make the most of what I've got) but now I've also got a generously-sized garden plot just down the street from my apartment, one I intend to have a lot of fun with. Case in point: we're waiting for our spaghetti squash to finish ripening, then everything's being torn out, turned over, and my little one and I are planting garlic and red tulip bulbs (his 'most favorite color o
