There was a frost last week in and around the Northeast Portland neighborhood where we live, a couple of miles up the hill from the Columbia River. But somehow the dahlias survived here in our micro-climate that only got to a low of 33 degrees F. I walked by other gardens where their dahlia leaves are now blackened, their unspent blooms still knobby and unopened on their stems…
Throw Another Log on the Fire
Actually, now that we are city folk, all we have to do is flick a switch and the gas fireplace with its ceramic log pile comes to life. Been there, done that re: the hauling of wood for the past nine years. It’s nice to have a touch of luxury,…