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If I were to tell you to close your eyes and think of your favorite tree, what would it be? Maybe it’s the tree that you planted in memorial for a loved one, the tree you stand under at the bus stop

Imagine walking across the high plains desert, no water as far as the eye can see, the tumbleweeds and dust plumes kicked up by the wind the only movement in the landscape. Your path takes you across

I have been working with some old rose plants recently. Roughly 80 years old, we think, and last week I saw them bloom for the first time. The plants grow in the concrete rubble of a bunk house at