It's good to be reminded of gardening basics once in a while, and last week Jeff Clarke did an able job of it at a workshop at Camden Children's Garden. He emphasized that even "experts" make mistakes and have failures. That's reassuring for people who are terrified of making a mistake. The beauty of gardening is that even if you kill something, you can always replace it or try something else. No big deal. This Friday, I'll be doing a story on Jeff and his sensible approach to vegetable gardening, which is timely. Seed sales this spring are way up; the interest in growing vegetables hasn't been this high since the early 2000's and I think a lot of people are interested for the right reasons. But it seems unfair to me that they're being told by those with much to gain that a minor investment in seeds will produce hundreds of dollars worth of fresh produce, seemingly just like that. Gardening is work. If you're a novice, there are certain things - lettuce, carrots, radishes, for ex. - that are easy to grow from seed. But at least to start, I'd buy seedlings for other stuff. Jeff suggests forgoing the romantic notion of a gigantic garden and starting small. Small is manageable. Small will have enough weeds, believe me. You can always trade up.

Mike Hardy, take a bough. I mean a bow. Mike is one of 20 people around the country being honored with the 2009 Arbor Day Award for their dedication to planting trees and conservation efforts. He figures he's planted 4,000 trees around the city in places like South Philly, the Northeast, Fishtown, Overbrook and East Falls but mostly in his University City neighborhood, where he started University City Green in 1998. "It is people like Michael Hardy who are truly making a difference by putting their values into thoughtful actions that will have a lasting, positive effect in the world,” said John Rosenow, chief executive of the Arbor Day Foundation. Arbor Day is this Friday, and the foundation's been giving these awards since 1972. Mike's in good company; other honorees include Nobel Peace Prize recipient Wangari Maathai and Chicago Mayor Richard Daley, who's a veritable green machine.

Anybody involved with trees in this town knows Mike. I've run into him at Masterman School and University City - and not just at tree-plantings. I've seen him at drought-gardening workshops. I've watched him plant bulbs and perennials and I've often heard him talk about stormwater management through plantings.

Mike is a youthful 71 and says he'll keep planting trees till he can't do it anymore. "My back is telling me you've gotta slow down, old man," he says, "and when they announced this as a lifetime achievement award, I thought, they're trying to tell me something." True. They're telling you you've done a good job.

Trees aren't just pretty things to decorate the landscape," Mike is fond of saying. "They're living machines that can turn things around." They just need a little help getting in the ground.

 This was a surprise, to see the Water Works, the South Garden and the Cliffside Paths all restored and looking so fine in the Easter Sunday sunshine. Finally, the walkway is linked to the Schuylkill River Trail between Center City and Valley Forge. For years, it was the missing piece. Although there aren't many people in this photo, before long it got crowded with bicyclists, walkers, bladers and people sitting on the benches with kids and puppies, enjoying the spectacular views. We also visited the interpretive center at the Water Works, which was doing a bustling Easter brunch business. The center is really interesting. In simple terms it explains the engineering behind the Water Works, which for a time was a major tourist attraction, and offers up interesting old photos and drawings of that industrious era. Imagine before the art museum sat atop "Faire Mount," and picture the earliest water-delivery system in the nation. It pumped river water up the hill to the reservoir, where the museum sits today, back down through a network of wooden pipes to houses in the city. The museum is fascinating - and free. The restored gardens are true to their Victorian roots - very green, with fountains (not yet turned on), geometric parterres and benches. It looks a little bare right now, but soon the landscape will soften. Amazingly, there was no litter. May it continue.

This is Mary Seton Corboy at Greensgrow Farms in Kensington, where among other amazing feats, they have bees that produce honey. Shortly after this photo was taken, a bunch of curious bees landed on Mary's shirt and jeans. Just checkin' her out. Then some flew on me. I love honey bees but this was the first time I'd served as hostess. Mary later offered a taste of leftover honeycomb. It was dripping with sweet, flavorful honey, probably white clover-derived, since the abandoned brownfields and green fields in Kensington and other (former) industrial neighborhoods in the city are loaded with white clover. This is a good thing, actually, and not just for bees seeking nectar to make honey with. White clover puts nitrogen back into your soil. It keeps the lawn green. It smell nice in flower. And it provides a little diversity to your grassy lawn community, which means it's friendlier to insects and other creatures that we need to round out our boring, monocultural, manmade landscapes.

Anyway. Honey bees are often mistaken for yellow jackets and other stingers, but actually, they're harmless unless you poke them in the eye (Mary was reluctant to brush them off). They're great little honey factories but they're mostly revered as pollinators. We'd be in a heap of trouble without their help with crops like apples, almonds, blueberries, strawberries, asparagus and a long list of others. There's a thriving business now - rent-a-hive. Bee hives are trucked all over the country, kind of like indentured servitude. Sounds exhausting. 

Bees are so fascinating. The Chester County Beekeepers Association is a great source of information: http://www.chescobees.org/. Meanwhile, if you're near a hive, no fast grabs.

It never ceases to amaze, the many forms of gardening that are possible in the city. Lately, urban farms have fascinated me, not the small-scale vegetable gardens or community gardens that are popping up with renewed vigor, thanks to the rotten economy and Michelle Obama, but good-sized parcels that are thriving in places you'd never imagine would support such an enterprise. It's all about the power of one - actually, in this case, two. Greensgrow, now in its 11th improbable year, was created on an old Superfund site at Almond and Cumberland Streets in the heart of Kensington by two friends - Mary Seton Corboy and Tom Sereduk, former chefs. It's still run by Mary. The farm is all of one square block and is expected to do $700,000 in sales this year. Think about that. One square block, once the home of a galvanized steel plant that filled the ground with lead and other toxic stuff. Greensgrow was a bit ahead of the pack when it comes to promoting locally grown, fresh, high quality food. It started with what were then little known gourmet lettuces, grown hydroponically and sold to restaurants. Now there's a thriving farm store, a CSA that serves 300 customers, a nursery and greenhouse for growing annual and perennial flowers and vegetables, and, for fun, "Honey from the 'Hood," homegrown honey. Mary says she wasn't at all sure they'd make it. It's quite a story. My story on the birth and growth of Greensgrow - scheduled to be in the paper on Friday, April 17 - tells all.

This may not look like much, but I guarantee, it's gonna be stupendous. It's the beginnings of a work of ephemeral art or landscape art - many names for this - by Patrick Dougherty, an artist from Chapel Hill who's doing a three-week artist-in-residency at Morris Arboretum. Patrick arrived last week and set to work creating a huge stick sculpture that will have no name till April 18, the last day. Its theme revolves around the circular chambers of a snail, and it's an idea that came to Patrick only as he was beginning this project. This is how he's been doing it for more than 20 years, all over the world. Definitely not for the faint of heart or people who like to plan long in advance! His fascinating story will be in the paper on Friday, and his sculpture will stand on the banks of the Wissahickon, in the arboretum's sculpture garden, till it falls down. Patrick will be there during the week working and he's not a fussy type; he loves it when people get up close and share their thoughts. He says he's constantly amazed at the intensely personal memories of childhood that his sculptures evoke. Has something to do with the sticks, he thinks, and the idea that as children, we all played with sticks, built forts and climbed trees. Each day his piece grows thicker and rounder. And lest you think this is child's play, Patrick says he's had two surgeries for carpal tunnel and broken more bones than he can count. It's very hard work, something you'd never guess. He has good humor and joy about him, and his creations reflect both. I can't wait to head over to Morris and see what's new.

Spring is when I appreciate perennials most. Looking out over the garden, all I can think of (well, maybe not all) is how much work lies ahead. This year may not be so bad. The garden was mulched last fall. The compost was spread around. Some leaves remain on the ground to give winter protection; others have been raked or composted. But every year, when I see the perennials - like these hostas greening up, I feel relief and happiness. Perennials are a beautiful invention. They return faithfully every year, spreading as far as we let them and, once divided, giving us free plants to share or plant. Hostas are among the most reliable, and while some still think of them as those boring green and white varieties that were (and to some extent, still are) planted by the thousands years ago, there are more exciting ones entering the marketplace every year. I've become a fan. I love my creamy 'Guacamole' and my incredibly substantial 'Sum and Substance,' which looks more like a flying carpet every year. Hostas come with fragrant flowers, upright vase shapes, slivers for leaves and all shades of blue and green, yellow and white. Yesterday, a caller from Chester County said he'd removed more than 100 hostas because the deer were feasting on them - ah, now you've discovered their down side - and replaced them with ornamental grasses. Could he divide the grasses now or wait? Whatever. If you do it too early and the worst happens - they freeze or die - you just divide another clump. Annuals surely give us longstanding color and brightness and that's a big gift. But perennials are a great deal. They're a onetime investment that pays off year after year. They're in it for the long haul, which - these days, especially - has a certain appeal. 

This magnolia's a star - literally. Its name is Magnolia stellata. I've probably strolled by this medium-sized tree 100 times but it struck me yesterday on a walk in the park as if I were seeing it for the first time. What a lovely alternative to the ubiquitous pink magnolias, which though very nice turn brown and get messy way too fast. The star magnolia (Japanese) has 15 or more of these long, thin petals that eventually get brown and messy like their pink kin. But here they look ready to wave in the breeze, light as can be. The tree is loaded with blooms, top to bottom, like a giant white fluff ball. Which is how I was feeling yesterday - light and sunny on a terrific spring afternoon. Maybe that lightness of being was due to the fact that my garden work was finished - for the day and the weekend. Nothing brightens a mood quite like that. 

This is the original green wall - not a 20-foot-high panel expertly planted with tropicals in the atrium of a corporate HQ, like Dansko, which is profiled in the paper's Home & Design section today. This one dates to the 1920s. It's the rock wall garden at Morris Arboretum. Six feet high, planted with alpines, it's in the rose garden, which is just about to burst open. The wall is already blooming. When I visited, there was a little fog, an empty bench. Perfect atmospherics.

If you'd like to read more about Dansko's wall, and other kinds of green walls, go to http://www.philly.com/inquirer/living/