Thank you, winter, for giving us a respite. Short days, cold nights, and time to clean, repair, and sharpen all those dull, rusty garden tools:

Above: A Tool Care Kit from Fiskar's comes with a diamond file and a bottle of oil to clean moving parts; $18.95 from Amazon. Photograph via Fiskar's.

Above: A Belgian Grindstone has two clay slates glued together to create an irregularly shaped sharpening surface. Use one side for coarse filing and the other for finer sharpening. It's 27.50 from Manufactum.

Above: A Sneeboer Garden Whetstone is $29.60 from Garden Tool Company. Good for sharpening larger tools, it has an extra hard silicon carbide stone.

Above: Available in three grits—extra fine, fine, and coarse—a Diamond Whetstone Hand Tool Sharpener is $42.15 from Gempler's.

Above: A Felco Diamond Sharpener has a hardened steel plaque coated with diamonds; $34.03 from Felco Store.

Above: A double-sided, 8-inch-long Nicholson Handy File has rounded edges to make it safe to carry in your pocket in the garden. It's $15.41 from Grainger.

N.B.: For more ideas, see 73 posts about Garden Tools in our Gallery.

Pick up any book or catalog of roses and you will be struck by the staggering number of forms, colors, and sizes available. But will they all fare equally well in your own garden? Of course not: you need help to wade through the multitudes, to select the best roses for your growing zone.

This would be the time to consult a local expert—and I was recently lucky enough to get the advice of a woman who cares for more than a thousand kinds of roses at the Brooklyn Botanic Garden, in one of North America’s largest collections. Her recommendations for Northeastern gardens:

Above: Sarah Owens is the curator of the Cranford Rose Garden in the Brooklyn Botanic Garden. She gave me a list of roses she would recommend for amateur gardeners here in the Northeast… plants that can survive our cold winters but demand minimal fussing from their caretakers. Photograph by Jeanne Rostaing.

(N.B.: Planning your spring garden? This is the first in a series of stories about the best roses for your climate. Coming next week: The Best Roses for Northern California and the Northwest Coast.)

Above: At the top of Sarah Owens' list is Yankee Lady, a vigorous hybrid rosa rugosa with year-round interest: big fragrant pink flowers in spring and summer, good fall color, and bright orange hips in winter. Very little pruning is required and this rose will even tolerate some shade. It also stands up to storms and salt and is a good choice for areas that require de-icing. Available for spring shipment, Yankee Lady is $15 from North Creek Farm. Photograph by Claire (who gardens on the Massachusetts coast) via Gardenweb.

Above: Beverly is a new hybrid tea introduced by Kordes, the German breeders, in 2008. It is both intensely fragrant and disease resistant, a very rare combination in a hybrid tea. Its pink flowers are held upright on long stems. This rose reaches a height of four feet and requires full sun; $19.95 from Pallatine Roses. Photograph via Palatine Roses.

Above: Perl d’Or is a small antique rose that blooms in clusters. Its flowers start out as orangey buds which change to a peachy apricot color as they open. This rose resists powdery mildew and black spot and requires only light pruning because it blooms off its old panicles. It is fragrant and flowers throughout the season; available for $18.95 from Antique Rose Emporium. Photograph via Brooklyn Botanic Garden.

Above: If you have plenty of space and would like a climbing rose, Owens recommends the vigorous City of York, available seasonally for $14.95 from Brushwood Nursery. It is fragrant, likes a sunny spot and, once established, will bloom repeatedly throughout the season. Climbers require pruning, which Owens recommends doing when the plant is dormant and temperatures are slightly below freezing. Photograph by Kayli-gardener via Photobucket.

Above: Canes should be secured to a trellis or fence to prevent wind damage, which can lead to disease. Photograph by Jeanne Rostaing.

Above: Other climbers Owens recommends include Jasmina, a modern climber with fragrant double pink flowers, $19.95 from Palatine Roses, and Francis E. Lester with panicles of musky white blooms that give way to gorgeous red hips in winter ($14.95 from High Country Roses). Photograph via Johnstown Garden Centre.

Above: As for when to plant roses in the Northeast, Owens says early spring or fall are the best times. In spring, make sure you plant early, as soon as the ground is no longer frozen. This will give the plants time to get established before the stresses of hot weather arrive. Photograph via Country Garden Roses.

Above: Since the weather will still be cold when you plant, ask the grower if your roses have been grown in a greenhouse. If so, you will have to harden off the plants before you can put them in the ground. Sarah Owens says the biggest mistake made by home gardeners is choosing the wrong plants. Make sure the roses you choose are the right ones for your garden and you can look forward to a gorgeous, sweet smelling summer. Photograph via Jeanne Rostaing.

For see more roses planted alongside other flowers in the garden, see "A Riot in Berkeley: Roses Gone Wild" and "Steal This Look: Downton Abbey Garden."

Forget the "it" bag. Just back from a trip to Tokyo, I am convinced that I have stumbled upon the ultimate tool box for my gardening tools and supplies.

Above: The Trusco Tool Box is manufactured in Japan of stamped steel with a blue enameled finish; $85 at Field Online.

Above: The Trusco Tool Box measures 15 inches long, 7 inches wide, and 8 inches high.

Above: Larger garden tools can sit in the main compartment, while smaller items (think gardening wire, twist ties, twine) can be organized in the divided compartments on top.

Above: The Trusco Tool Box features removable dividers.

Above: Smooth operating hinges are exposed at the ends of the box.

N.B.: Complement the tool box with your own Japanese Gardening Tools.

If you're walking the beaches of coastal Oregon town Lincoln City, you might spot Kinfolk's founding editor Nathan Williams foraging for sea coral, tree bark, and the perfect pieces of twisted driftwood.

Williams forms each find in simple metal frames, wreaths, and sculptures on the weekend; see more from Williams on his blog Hear Black.

Above: Pale green and white sea coral reminiscent of Olafur Eliasson's Moss Wall. The frame is filled with a mix of coral and dried sea urchins then left in the sun to dry out completely before bringing it indoors.

Above: Driftwood sculptures are, as Williams explains, "easier for us to make when the individual pieces have similar bends and curves. When we walk on the beach we carry a tote bag and gather driftwood with this in mind."

Above: Detail of the circular driftwood wreath.

Above: "To assemble the heart, we start by gluing together the outline, then filling the inside with other pieces."

Above: "While we were living in Hawaii we would often find fallen trees on the beach with loose bark. We collected the pieces of bark, then used a hand saw for a clean edge. The bark was hot-glued to the back of a frame."

N.B.: Looking for more gardening projects and natural decor? See 113 of our DIY posts.

When they're not in bloom, many bulbs and tubers prefer to be dug up and stored in a cool dark place. Here's a simple way to honor their wishes:

Above: In winter, dahlias should be dug up before the ground freezes. In damp climates, tulips are better off spending the summer hanging in a dry shed than in the wet ground. A 21-inch-long French Grocery Bag made of cotton that will accommodate both is $12 from Brook Farm General Store.

Actually, make that ten miles. It's supposed to be a seven-mile trek from Mill Valley to Stinson Beach and that's how far I told my friends from LA that we were going to walk. Eight of us set out one sunny morning last week with deli sandwiches and hopes of seeing the Pacific Ocean by early afternoon. But there were a few detours.

"I hope this isn't going to take all day," my husband said.

"Of course not," I assured him.

(N.B.: Do you have a favorite winter hike? Send photos to edit@remodelista.com and we may feature your story in an upcoming "Hike of the Week" post.)

Our friends from LA are hardy—actually, they're transplanted New Yorkers, so they're used to walking—and we made it to this trail marker, along the Panoramic Highway on the ridge above Mill Valley, in record time. Photo by Richard Johnstone via Flickr.

"How much farther?" my husband asked.

If we had turned left to take the Dipsea Trail—the same route that long-distance runners follow every year in the locally famous Dipsea Race—the answer to his question would have been "not too much farther." From here, the Dipsea Trail dips into Muir Woods, where you get to see the towering redwoods without having to deal with the tourist traffic in the parking lot, and then heads straight to Stinson Beach.

But I prefer the Sun Trail.

But I'm getting ahead of the story. Backtracking, here's a look at the start of the hike—the Dipsea Stairs. There are 688 of them to climb to get from downtown Mill Valley to the trails. Photograph via Dipsea.

I know it looks horrible. Even if you are a resident of Mill Valley and consider the Dipsea Stairs and the Dipsea Race and the Dipsea Trail to be sacred national treasures (a prerequisite of living here), the stairs look daunting. I think the reason we all went up them, instead of turning around and heading back to civilization to spend the afternoon at the Beerworks, was simple: if you make it to the top, it means you are immortal. For the rest of the day, you think to yourself with quiet satisfaction, "Well, I guess I'm going to live forever."

OK, back to the Sun Trail. The reason I like it best is because of the amazing views. In the distance, ahead of me, you can see my friends walking along the trail.

Above: In December, after the rainy season starts, the trails are pretty green. Two months earlier, the grass would have been dry and wheat-colored.

Above: This is a rough approximation of our route via Google Maps. At this point, after about an hour and a half of hiking (including a stop to eat some sandwiches) we were between Points B and C. My husband wondered if we were almost there, and I said yes.

N.B.: Have you ever hiked this same route (or a variation)?

Above: We saw a toadstool -- amanita muscaria, which the FDA says is poisonous—and stopped to admire it.

Above: A windblown tree grows over the trail.

Above: More mushrooms growing on a mossy log.

Above: The saturated colors along the trail were otherworldly -- this is not Instagram magic.

Above: Our route took us past the Mountain Home Inn and the Throckmorton Ridge Fire Station to the Matt Davis Trail, another of my favorites. The Matt Davis Trail takes you across lots of little wooden bridges above streams. In the rainy season, water rushes over the rocks. In the summer, it's barely a trickle. A Mt Tam Trail Map for iPhone, iPod or iPad is $4.99 from iTunes.

Above: A mossy tree trunk partially blocks the path.

Above: A view of Stinson Beach and the ocean from the Matt Davis Trail. Photograph by Christina via Flickr.

It took some of us longer than others to make it to the end. I caught up with everybody (including the contingent who, it turned out, had saved time by sliding down the hillside on their butts to avoid the last few hundred feet of switchback trails) on the porch at the Sand Dollar Restaurant in Stinson Beach. The sun was starting to set, about five and a half hours after we began the hike. Photograph by Clatiek via Flickr.

Fingerless gloves, the gardener's best friend in winter:

Also a hiker's best friend. I wore a similar pair last week (see "Hike of the Week: 7 Miles to Stinson Beach, CA") and am happy to report I had full finger dexterity when unwrapping my tuna sandwich and various trail snacks.

Above: A pair of brown Fingerless Gloves made of a wool and nylon blend have elasticized wristbands to keep out the cold; available in three sizes, the gloves are $12 from Brook Farm General Store.

Add a bright note to winter gardening, indoors or out, with one (or more) of these brightly colored metal watering cans.

Above: The powder coated metal watering cans are offered in three shapes (L to R): Short Slant Metal Watering Can ($26), Globe Metal Watering Can ($26), and the Tall Slant Metal Watering Can ($34) in a choice of four colors at the Potted Store.

Above: The metal watering cans have lightweight with handles to make pouring easier.

Above: Tall Slant Metal Watering Cans are $34 each.

N.B.: For more options, see our earlier post Alchemy in the Garden: Metallic Watering Cans.

A simple cold frame keeps seedlings warm when the garden is frozen. The baby lettuces will love you for it.

As humble as many of these mini-greenhouses may look, cobbled from bits of scrap wood and salvaged windowpanes, cold frames have an amazing ability to create micro-climates. You can buy a ready made one (see "10 Easy Pieces: Cold Frames"), or build your own in an afternoon, following Martha Stewart's meticulous step-by-step instructions. Better make that two afternoons.

Or wing it, with an old piece of glass and some two-by-fours, because as the garden writer Henry Mitchell once put it, "it is more important for the gardener to be enchanted than for critics to be pleased."

Above: A sheltered sunny spot in the garden; image via The Turnip Truck.

Above: Another use for flea market finds or your neighbor's castoffs; image via Green Upgrader.

Above: An elaborate Victorian scheme, in the melon yard of the Heligan estate in Cornwall, England.

Above: Fill hollow eggs with potting soil, as they do at Stony Run Farm, for a clever homemade seed-starting kit. Another environmentally friendly option is to start seeds on a bed of coir fiber pellets, available from Grow Organic ($6.49 for 20 pellets).

Above: Monitor soil for optimal germination temperatures for healthier seedlings; image via Burbs and the Bees. We favor using a simple dial model, like a sturdy Taylor, available for $9.99 from Grow Organic.

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Above: Dutch bulbs, including hyacinths and daffodils, forced in a cold frame; image via Growing with Plants.

Above: Transplants in simple clay pots brighten a windowsill; image via Growing with Plants.

A mix of nursery garden starts and flowers welcomes spring in Montana; image via Knitting Iris.

N.B.: This is an update of a post originally published February 28, 2012.

As far as we’re concerned, it’s never too early to start thinking about the joys of spring in the garden. This week UK garden designer Richard Miers takes us to a uniquely shaped urban London garden to describe his planting strategy. For the next 48 hours, he will be available to answer any and all questions. Ask away:

If graphic designers think in two dimensions and architects think in three dimensions, then the garden designer must think in four dimensions with a full understanding of how different plant species grow and—most critically–the timing of it all. You want certain plants to bloom in tandem, after all.

When working with a client, Cambridge based garden designer Richard Miers, a member of the Remodelista Architect/Designer Directory, first agrees to the plan or structure of the garden. Next he establishes a color palette. Finally, the planting strategy is his coup d’état; he develops it systematically, works through it methodically, and supplements it with his imagination. “I list all the plantings on an Excel spreadsheet with their heights, flowering time, and number per square meter,” Miers says. “I then list all the beds, close my eyes, and start to imagine.”

Photography by Richard Miers.

Above: The garden is at the rear of a classic terraced house in North London. Miers worked with the client to come up with a color palette of purples, blues, and pinks; the pale blue flowers are the Campanula lactiflora 'Prichard's Variety.'

Above: The beginnings of an espaliered James Grieve apple tree, which produces particularly juicy fruit to harvest in mid-September.

Above: Spring irises (Jane Phillips) and alliums (Allium albopilosum cristophii) introduce more blues and purples into the garden.

Above: A mixture of flowering plants includes fragrant Harlow Carr rose bushes, Schizostylis coccinea 'Mrs. Hegarty,' Verbena hastata 'Pink Spires' and Campanula lactiflora 'Prichard's Variety.'

Above: With terraced houses, the typical garden extends straight out the back at the same width of the house. When Miers' clients purchased their house, they were able to annex an additional garden plot to the side of the garden hut.

Above: Stalks of color are created with Alcea 'Park Rondell.'

Above: Salvia nemorosa 'Caradonna' and Schizostylis coccinea 'Mrs. Hegarty' decorate the foreground with James Grieve apples in the background. In the fall, the apples will be bigger and red—and ready to eat.

Above: Miers carved out a "secret garden" from the additional garden plot by raising it up a few steps and creating an entrance.

Above: A water feature in the"'secret garden" leads to the door to the communal garden, which is shared by other neighborhood houses and where the children play ball games.

Above: The "secret garden" offers shade in the summer.

Above: A medley of blues, purples, and pinks courtesy of salvia, Dipsacus fullonum (also known as common teasel), Campanula lactiflora Prichard's Variety, and Rosa de Rescht.

Above: The mood board that Miers created for his clients and upon which the garden plantings are based.

Above: Miers uses drawings to illustrate and agree to the basic structure of the gardens with his clients.

N.B.: For more English spring garden designs, see "Season of Mist: Ben Pentreath's Dorset Garden" and "Passion Play: Jane Cumberbatch's Tulip Garden."

At one of our recent editorial meetings, a discussion about plants in the bedroom revealed two diametrically opposed camps: Love them or hate them.

Photosynthesis creates the love as the process adds oxygen and purifies the air (which is why Michelle has plants in every room). But... because plants require light to photosynthesize, at night the process apparently reverses and may cause plants to respire as humans do, emitting the dreaded carbon dioxide (this is the part that Sarah finds creepy).

How to get to the bottom of this? I asked an expert: my 15-year old son who happens to be a bit of a plant biology aficionado (go figure).

Me: Is it true that plants emit oxygen in the day and carbon dioxide at night?

Son: You know about photosynthesis and respiration right?

Me: Yes, respiration is the reverse of photosynthesis.

Son: Yes, but it’s slightly more complicated than that.

Me: How so?

Son: Well, plants respire at a slower rate than they photosynthesize, so there is actually a net gain of a few molecules of oxygen per cycle.

Me: Do you think it’s unhealthy to sleep with plants at night?

Son: (suspicions aroused) Why are you asking me these questions? Is this your way of testing me for my biology exam? I thought you were working.

So, for readers avoiding a family domestic, I have decided that it comes down to personal preference. What’s yours? Let us know in the comments below.

Above: I can't see the harm in having a few slow-growing succulents, given their Crassulacean acid metabolism (CAM), which allows them to take in carbon dioxide during the night and store it to use for photosynthesis the next day. Image via Old Brand New Blog.

Above: Alexa likes the way these plants on the windowsill add cheer to a children's bedroom in a summer house in Söderfors, Sweden. For more, see Simple Scandi Children's Room.

Above: For some, one plant in the bedroom is enough; they draw the line at more. What do you think—can you have too many? Image via Fresh Home.

(N.B.: Whatever side of the debate you favor, we all agree that plants in the rest of the house can only be a good thing. See 915 images of Plants as Decor in our Gallery or rooms and spaces.)

Would I feel guilty in winter, curled up under 50 layers of blankets in bed, if my most sensitive garden plants weren't covered too? Possibly. Of course that's not the only reason to use bamboo cloches; they look great, too:

Above: In the garden, cloches can provide enough protection to keep tender plants or new seedlings alive until spring arrives. Line the the cloches with newspaper to create a warm microclimate for plants in extreme cold. Bamboo Cloches, available in three sizes at prices ranging from $40 AU to $60 AU from Karen Wagner.

Above: For US and UK gardeners, woven bamboo Tunnel Cloches and Dome Cloches are available in five sizes; for prices and shipping information, see Gifts and Gardens.

Above: Cloches create architectural interest in the winter garden even as they repel birds, deer, the neighbor's cat, and errant snowballs. Photograph via Whole Life Gardening.

For more winter gardening, see our January Garden Chores pinboard on Pinterest.

True, my garden has gotten a little overgrown. Renovating a house and moving across the country have been distracting. I suppose the flower beds are sort of weedy. But I wouldn't say I'm envious of my neighbor Susan—the one with the great garden—or of the huge bruise-purple hydrangeas she's growing. I like of think the emotion her success inspires in me is "admiration." Especially since she so generously offered, after she came by the other day, to let me in on her greatest secret:

"Mango mulch," she said, leaning over the gate to add in a low, conspiratorial tone, "and I can hook you up." It turns out that Susan knows a guy with a special blend, and every year he pitchforks a load of the precious dark stuff onto her garden.

I spent the rest of the week averting my eyes from the weeds and fantasizing about how the mulch was going to turn things around for me. Monster hydrangeas! I imagined how Susan might admire them as she walked past the house, and rehearsed how I would insist with false modesty that no, hers were better.

Then disaster struck on the eve of Mulch Delivery.

"Hey Toots--bad news," Susan wrote in an email. She and her guy with the mulch had walked down to my house to look at the front yard. "He said you would have to do a de-weed before applying the mulch. ...He did the mango mulch on my yard yesterday because he knew it was going to rain and he wanted it to soak in. Come over and take a peek."

De-weed? I was shocked. Maybe there was some stray clover lurking under the salvia. But too weedy for mulch?

"You look pale," my husband said.

"I've had a shock," I said.

"Don't take it personally," he said. "It's just a few weeds. You can turn this around in an afternoon."

I went outside to survey the situation with a clinical eye: crab grass, bindweed, errant holly seedlings, volunteer sedums springing up beneath a daphne. How had things gotten so out of hand?

The weeds crept up on me. It's not unlike when you hit middle age but you don't realize your metabolism has slowed, so you continue to eat and drink the same amount you always have—well, maybe you have an extra cookie or glass of wine now and then, to distract yourself from the fact you're getting older—and then one day all of a sudden you can't zip your favorite skirt. You're late to work, you still have to put on makeup, and the damn thing seems stuck on...a horror-movie-roll of flesh. You scream.

They're both gradual processes, midlife weight gain and unwelcome undergrowth among the ferns. But it's normal to react the same way to both: with a vow to immediately reverse the damage.

With the same zeal with which I recently adopted a pro-exercise, carb-free, sugar-free, alcohol-free lifestyle (in hopes of being able to zip my skirt and tuck in a blouse the very next day), I said to my husband, "Where are my tools?"

I have a (Top) Kusakichi Saw Tooth Sickle ($8.90). I also have (from L) a Kusakichi Flat Scraper ($11.90); a Carbon Steel Hori Hori ($23.90), and a Small Sawteeth Saw ($8.90), purchased from Hida Tool in Berkeley, CA.

And I was prepared to use them all.

As I started pulling and cutting and teasing out the roots of vicious, hateful, mulch-repelling weeds, I made remarkable discoveries. I uncovered a valiant clump of columbine, waiting there for God knows how long for help to arrive.

And the first snowdrops of the season.

The Japanese Student, a statue that my father-in-law's father bought in Japan more than 50 years ago, has moved across the country and back—and back again— with me, standing guard in every garden I've had.

There is something meditative about the process of weeding—a lonely pursuit—that connects you in spirit to every other bindweed root you've ever grimly stripped, like a varicose vein, from a garden. You can get into a state of Pure Gardening, concentrating so hard on grubbing out every single onion bulb that you forget whether it's January 2013 in Mill Valley, CA or October 1989 in Huntington, New York. Space and time collapse; the dirt under your fingernails is the same gritty stuff that was under there 25 years ago.

I lost my engagement ring that time in 1989, when I put it into a shirt pocket while I was planting tulips. The ring fell out, and I had to dig up three dozen bulbs to find it. In 1997, my father came to visit and planted delphiniums for me—blue sentinels marching across the garden, iridescent in twilight. In 2002, I left behind my peonies—oh, the peonies!— when I moved to Northern California, where the ground doesn't freeze hard enough for them to thrive. And in 2013?

Barely lunchtime, but I was exhausted. I surveyed my progress—averting my eyes from the clover that was still cavorting in the jade plants—and realized I probably have another month of hardcore weeding ahead. It's a gradual process, after all.

As for the mango mulch? Next winter, I guess. In the meantime, maybe Susan will bring me a vase full of hydrangeas.

I used to use a butter knife or a dinner fork to tease out roots growing in tiny crevices or in between bricks or pavers. But I recently got a hori hori knife that changed my whole way of looking at the world (of weeds). Here's why:

Above: I have a Carbon Steel Hori Hori; $23.90 from Hida Tool. It's turned out to be an all-purpose hand tool—a digger, a grubber, a trowel, and even a winch. You can jam the blade under a heavy rock and use leverage to lift it up long enough to pull weeds out by their roots.

Above: The serrated blade is sharp enough to hack through a clump of bedraggled irises or lilies; the cleanup work goes faster if you don't have to go hunting for the pruners.

Four dozen spindly baby trees—perfect genetic copies of the grandest sequoias and redwoods that ever lived—were planted last month on four foggy and remote acres on the edge of the Pacific Ocean in southern Oregon. Their job: to save the world.

"We found the biggest trees that ever lived, including many cut down to their stumps, and we've brought them back to life by cloning them," says David Milarch, co founder of the Michigan-based non-profit Archangel Ancient Tree Archive. The goal is to create an old-growth forest where giant trees capable of removing large amounts of carbon dioxide from the air will help prevent global warming. Says Milarch: "We saved these trees, and now they will save the world."

Photographs via Archangel Ancient Tree Archive except where noted.

Above: A rooted cutting taken from a 2,000-year-old tree and grown in an agar solution in a lab was one of nearly 50 trees planted on a privately owned northern slope at Ocean Mountain Reserve n in Port Orford, Oregon in early December. Photograph by Jamie Francis for The Oregonian.

Above: The view from the top of the mountain: "It's one of the foggiest places on the whole West Coast," says Milarch, adding, "Redwoods like fog, especially when they get to be 300 feet tall."

(N.B.: Do you suddenly have an urge to plant a tree? See "5 Favorites: Silvery Conifers.")

Above: Looking into redwoods from the ground up. The reforestation effort has its own roots in Milarch's life: nearly 20 years ago, the shade tree nurseryman from Michigan went into renal failure and had a near-death experience that prompted him to dedicate his life to preserving the DNA of the world's tree "champions"—the largest specimens of every tree species in the US.

Above: In a California forest known as the Lost Grove, Jake Milarch, one of David Milarch's sons, climbs the 3,000-year-old Waterfall Giant Sequoia—the fifth largest tree in the world—to get tissue samples to create clones.

Above: From a tiny fleck of tree tissue, new trees sprout. The growing medium contains a propriertary mix of hormones and vitamins developed by the nonprofit group. Photograph via Second Wave.

Above: There are plenty of reasons to save trees, writes Jim Robbins, author of The Man Who Planted Trees. Trees soak up carbon dioxide. They filter air and water pollution and suck up toxic waste from soil. The book is available for $16.50 from Amazon or for $25 from the Archangel Ancient Tree Archive, where t $8 from each purchase funds the organization's efforts.

Above: Schoolchildren pose on the stump of the Fieldbrook coastal redwood, which was 400 feet tall and 3,000 years old when it was cut down in 1890. "It was the tallest tree on earth, and they cut it down for a bar bet," says Milarch. "I'm happy to say we have many clones of it that are alive and well—and one was planted in Oregon last month." Photograph via Humboldt State University Library.

Above: Planting a redwood clone in Oregon. Photograph by Jamie Francis for The Oregonian.

Above: Bill Werner, a propagator for the nonprofit group, visits the giant sequoias in the Lost Grove, a forest on 700 acres at an elevation of 6,500 feet in the Sierra Nevadas.

(N.B.: Wondering how to take better care of your trees? See "Surviving a Storm: Expert Tips From the Brooklyn Botanic Garden.")

Above: In the lost grove, propagator Meryl Marsh and Bill Werner discuss which tree to climb next to obtain tissue samples.

Do you want to grow your own giant tree? See "A (Tiny) Giant Sequoia Tree."

Imagine a giant sequoia tree in your backyard. And why not? Aside from being way more majestic than the tree your next door neighbor is growing, it would suck up enormous amounts of carbon dioxide and could help prevent climate change:

"You have room," says tree evangelist David Milarch, co founder of the Archangel Ancient Tree Archive. know a guy who lives in a subdivision in Orinda, California who has 17 growing in his backyard—and yes, it's just a regular subdivision yard,"

Above: One difference between sequoias and redwoods is that sequoias thrive in nearly every climate in the world (except the two poles). They will grow in Chicago. They will grow in Africa. They will grow in Queens, New York. They can reach heights of 250 feet or more—the General Sherman tree in California's Sequoia National Park is 275 feet tall. A two- to four-year-old Live Giant Sequoia Tree is $24.95 from Plow & Hearth.

For more about David Milarch's quest to propagate the finest giant sequoias in the world, see "Saving the World's Oldest Trees."

Based in Minneapolis, Silver Cocoon is a collaboration between husband/wife team Tia Salmela (of Finnish descent) and Souliyahn Keobounpheng (born in Laos and a Minnesota resident since 1979). Both have degrees in architecture from the University of Minnesota; together they strive to create "great and sensible design." We especially like this simple potting shed; browse more projects at Silver Cocoon.

For more potting sheds, see "Steal This Look: A Potting Shed Made of Scraps" and "A Simple Garden in Oakland, Chickens and Bees Included."

N.B.: This is an update of a post originally published April 13, 2010.

Yesterday on Remodelista we featured an Antwerp bed-and-breakfast establishment that unapologetically celebrates a style we think of as faded glory meets Wes Anderson. Essential to the Boulevard Leopold look: soaring ceilings and attention-grabbing potted plants allowed to run amok in a manner not encouraged since the Victorian Age:

Photography by Ben Lambers and Tatjana Quax of Studio Aandacht for Design Tripper.

Above: The plant on the left is a philodendron—what else?—but not just any philodendron. There are 900 species; to create a jungle in the breakfast room, Boulevard Leopold's owners chose a philodendron with a lacy bifurcated leaf.

Above: For a similar look of a plant with deeply cut leaves, consider a Philodendron Selloum, native to South America; a two- to three-year-old plant is $39.95 from Palm Trees Online. In Brazil, the split-leaf philodendron grows in rain forests and prefers partial shade and quick-draining soil. Photograph via Exotic Rain Forest.

N.B.: For more, see "Boulevard Leopold: Forgotten Glory in Antwerp."

For plant lovers living in the city, it's nice to know there's a place within walking distance that you can visit and leave with a little something green. Susanne Kongoy's shop, GRDN, on Hoyt Street in Brooklyn is just that sort of an oasis:

Photographs by Erin Boyle.

Above: The small shop is equally delightful if you need to pick up a sweet gift for an earth-loving friend or if you want to enliven your own urban garden. Moss-covered Campo de' Fiori terra cotta pots at GRDN attract shoppers from across the city.

Above: Queen Anne's Lace and peach colored roses greet visitors at the door.

Above: The GRDN staff keeps a front table filled with cut flowers for customers to purchase by the stem or to have the staff arrange into bouquets.

Above: Carefully edited selections of gardening books and cookbooks can be spotted among shelves stocked with clay pots and ferns.

Above: A display pairs New York-based artist MQuan's stoneware garden bells with staghorn ferns.

Above: Serious gardeners have a choice of Burgon & Ball or Garden Works hand tools.

Above: Succulents and gift-ables with a topsy turvy collection of pots from the Connecticut studio of potter Ben Wolff.

Above: Delicate clay planters from Judy Jackson.

Above: Although it's spare this time of year, in the spring and summer GRDN's sunny backyard brims with plants and herbs.

Above: For another local gardener's destination, see "Emily Thompson Flowers: Brooklyn's Florist to the Stars."

Winter blankets are not just for your bed. Tender plants need cover from winter's cold. Use plant blankets to protect, but not suffocate, vulnerable plants that are too big to put under a cloche, or too well-rooted to move to a cold frame or indoors.

Above: Lest you think a plastic tarp will do, consider that plant blankets provide insulation, preventing frost damage or worse, and are also breathable, letting in light and moisture essential for plant health. Use them in conjunction with a simple frame to provide shelter from wind and protection from snow weight that can break branches. The same fabrics can also be used to wrap the trunks of saplings to prevent frost damage. Image by Janet Hall.

Above: Burlap is a great all-natural winter plant protector, and, perhaps, one of the most aesthetically pleasing options. The Gardeneer Natural Burlap Roll is made of 100 percent jute and measures 3-by-24 feet (perfect for cutting pieces to fit your smaller shrubs or wrap sapling trunks); $7.20 per roll at Garden Harvest Supply. Image via Fine Gardening.

Above: Wrap large shrubs and conifers in burlap to protect limbs from damaging winds and heavy snow. Gardener's Supply offers a 3-by-50 foot Burlap Roll for $26.95. Don't forget the essential Ball O'Twine to hold it in place; $8 at Ancient Industries.

Above: For more snow protection, consider erecting a simple frame - three secure tall stakes will do - to create a burlap tent. Image via the Gardening Info Zone.

Above: Allowing 75-percent light transmission, the lightweight Reemay Polyester Fleece Row Cover protects from frost down to 30 degrees; $15.95 for a 67-inch wide, 20-foot long piece at Territorial Seed Company.

Above: For slightly more winter plant warmth, consider the Garden Quilt Plant Cover that protects plants in temperatures down into the low twenties. Available in a 6-foot wide row width (either 20- or 50-foot in length), or a 12-by-20 foot size that can be used not only on beds, but also to drape over shrubs, small trees, or other plants that need a layer of warmth; $12.95, $21.95, and $19.95 respectively at Gardener's Supply.

Above: Fleece is available in pre-made "jackets" for container plants and shrubs. The Small Frost Protection Plant Covers are made of soft polypropylene fleece material that will protect your plants but won't cause harm to buds or leaves. Light and moisture filter through the fabric. Measuring 31-by-24 inches, they are $45.95 for a set of four through Amazon. The XL Frost Protection Plant Cover (6-feet tall) is also available for $23.75. Photograph via Two Wests and Elliot's Garden Blog.

Above: If you need to provide protection from the weight of snow, consider using fleece plant fabric stretched over a frame. The pre-made Frost Cover with Hoops is easy to set up (the galvanized steel hoops are sewn into the fabric); perfect for plant rows. It measures 9-feet, 8-inches long and 24-inches wide; $17.95 at Gardener's Supply.

Above: Prefer green? Planket plant covers are made of spun-bonded, non-woven but breathable material with metal grommets to help secure the covering with stakes or twine. The 10-by-20 foot Planket Plant Cover is $39.99. A Set of Eight Planket Plant Covers (as shown) is $99.99. All at Bed, Bath and Beyond.

Above: Consider a DIY plant protector. Where we spend Thanksgiving in Eastern Washington, small rhododendrons are protected from snow by a simple wood teepee (or put your summer vine Tuteurs to work) covered in cut-to-size shade cloth (6-by-15-foot Shade Cloth Roll is available for $29.97 at Home Depot) and then insulated with straw. Photograph by Janet Hall.

For more cold weather protection, see "Bamboo Cloches to Blanket Your Garden."

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