The charm is in imperfection. We can think of many uses for these homemade, twisted wire frames, spotted via Luli; they are sturdy enough to hold balls of twine or small flower vases. Here's how to make your own:

Above: You'll need bendable wire, a pair of wire cutters, pliers, and twine. Photograph via Luli.

Above: Cut several equal lengths of wire and then use the pliers to fashion hanging loops and to wrap them around unmarked clear glass Test Tubes with round bottoms (available in a variety of sizes, for prices ranging from 45 cents to $1.50 each, from Science Company). Or cut a single long length and shape it into a round frame; to form a basket, attach pieces of equal length to the frame by twisting loops at the ends of each piece of wire. Photographs via Luli.

Above: A 200-foot coil of 16 Gauge Steel Galvanized Wire is strong enough to do the job and still pliable enough to twist; $6.51 from Amazon.

Above: A pair of 8-inch Long Nose Pliers (L) is $5.34 from Amazon and a pair of crafter's Keiba Wire Cutters capable of cutting wires as thick as 1.5 millimeters, is $26 from Tickle Me Beads.

Above: A ball of two-ply Jute Twine is $1.93 from Dick Blick.

For another wire-wrapping project, see "DIY: Koushi Lamp by Mark Eden Schooley."

What do you do with all those stray bits of branch you rake up in the garden? We like to use them in the hearth to start a fire. Here's a twig-sized bag to collect kindling:

Above: A jute Kindling Sack with a shoulder strap is $39.95 from Williams-Sonoma Agrarian.

On the Road to... Bob Hope's House. One weekend recently, I found myself in Palm Springs for a film festival, at which my friend Neil Barsky's new documentary, Koch: The Movie, was being screened. (It's a wonderful movie. You will love it.) The day after the screening, with nothing better to do, Barsky, our friend Nick Goldberg, and I set off to find the fabulous 17,531-square-foot home (6 bedrooms, 9.75 bathrooms) that Bob Hope had built in 1979.

We learned where the house is from a site called I Am Not A Stalker, which mentioned that you cannot drive because the road is gated.

Photographs via Hiking in Palm Springs except where noted.

The Araby Trail is just off East Palm Canyon Drive. There was plenty of parking and the trailhead was easy to find.

The trall meanders through an old, sprawling trailer park, then starts to climb. And climb. While it's a vertical ascent of only 800 feet, we had to stop every 15 minutes or so for Barsky to catch his breath.

Snake territory? We didn't see any, perhaps because it's winter time and the vipers are abed. But the terrain here, with cholla cactus growing beside the trail, looks exactly like what you'd see in the Reptile House at the zoo. The trail is rocky and arid—Palm Springs gets about 5 inches of rain annually. Photograph by Barbee Lin via Flickr.

I love cactus. It's the feline of the plant world, mean and misanthropic and meant to be looked at, but not touched. The trail could have used more.

While we were waiting for Barsky to catch his breath, a skywriting airplane buzzed across the valley. I don't know why people pay for this form of sky pollution: It was too windy up there for the letters to form. I think it said "hk hgt$3j ksal;d." Photograph by Josh Quittner.

You get a great view of the Coachella Valley, almost from the start. A green belt of way too many palm trees; for some reason, it brought to mind a picture in a grade school textbook labeled "oasis."

The trail is a 5.5-mile loop that takes you back to your car; the highest elevation is at "4" and Bob Hope's house is at "5." Map via Ride With GPS.

(N.B.: Do you have a favorite winter hike? Send email to edit@remodelista.com to tell us the route, and we may feature it as an upcoming "Hike of the Week.")

The filmmaker, Barsky (R) wheezing. Goldberg (L) handled the hike with aplomb because he works out every morning on a stationary bike. That domed home at the top of the photo is Hope's place. Not too much farther. Photograph by Josh Quittner.

Above: Bob Hope's house, which went on the market with an asking price of $45 million in November, was designed by the modernist architect John Lautner, whose space-age architecture is at least one cultural benefit of southern California. Photograph by Harold Willome via Flicker.

For another California hike, see "Hike of the Day: 7 Miles to Stinson Beach."

It's always hiking weather as far as we're concerned. On the trail you may encounter rain or snow, of course (or even a few rattlesnakes if you're in Palm Springs and headed uphill for a look at Bob Hope's house), so take along a walking stick. Here's a rustic wooden one we've been admiring:

Above: Made by Commune Design for the Ace Hotel, the handmade stick is just the right diameter to grip easily. Photograph via Ace Hotel.

To inquire about pricing and availability, see the Ace Hotel Shop. For a similar stick, a Mountain Ash Hiking Staff with Ash Wood Shaft is $46.30 from Canes and Walking Sticks, and for UK hikers a Rustic Handmade Holly Stick is ₤30 from Walking Sticks Online.

For an uphill trail in southern California, see "Hike of the Day: A Glimpse of Bob Hope's House in Palm Springs."

The best time to plant roses in northern California is January and February. Before rushing off to the nursery, we turned to our friend Samantha Greenwood, the special events chef at Alice Waters' Chez Panisse restaurant in Berkeley, who also happens to grow 80 varieties in her garden. Our question: Which roses grow best in northern California?

(N.B.: This is the second in a series about the best roses to grow in different zones. For more, see "5 Favorites: A Rose for All Regions, Northeast US Edition.")

Above: "My favorites are easy, healthy, repeat bloomers," says Ms. Greenwood. A climber like Tess of the D'Urbevilles ($23.95 from David Austin).makes good use of vertical space. Photograph by Kendra Wilson. For more, see "DIY: Endless Cutting Garden."

Above: Othello has double blooms and a strong fragrance; it blooms all summer. Shown here in Ms. Greenwood's garden, it's $24.95 apiece from David Austin. Photograph by Mimi Giboin for Gardenista.

Above: English rose Charles Darwin has a flower whose color varies from a deep yellow color to a lemony shade; $23.95 from David Austin. Photograph by Michael Fowler via Flickr.

Above: Ms. Greenwood in her rose garden: "If they don't smell, what's the point?" she asks. For more, see "A Riot in Berkeley: Roses Gone Wild." Photograph by Mimi Giboin.

Above: On Ms. Greenwood's list of favorites is tea rose Monsieur Tillier, which has a spicy scent; available for $8.95 from Chamblee's Rose Nursery. Photograph by Carolyn Parker via Flickr.

Above: Hot Cocoa. a shrub rose whose blooms repeat, is $17.50 at Heirloom Roses. Photograph by Dark Spinner via Flickr.

Above: Hot Cocoa. Photograph by Iwantitall via Flickr.

Concerned that fewer and fewer birds are able to find nesting spots in developed cities in the Netherlands, Arnhem-based designer Klaas Kuiken came up with a novel way for them to build homes on rooftops:

Above: The Rooftile Birdhouse, designed after consultation with the Dutch bird association Vogelbescherming, seamlessly integrates a nesting place with a red roof tile. For more information and pricing, see Klaas Kuiken.

Above: The Birdhouse Rooftile comes with a wooden slat basket framed with metal screening to prevent a bird from passing through the bottom of the birdhouse.

Above: For more birdhouses, see "Bodega Birdhouses by Roost" and "5 Favorites: Birdhouses."

Spring seems like a distant daydream. Luckily Michael Leva, a reader who gardens in Connecticut's Litchfield County, sent us some photos to remind us of what's ahead (in four months or so: stay strong).

When Leva, a New York-based fashion creative director, bought an 18th century farmhouse on four acres nine years ago, the gardens were in disrepair; he worked with Dave Bergman of DWB Botanical Design in nearby Southbury to fix that. "A house had been built next door where there used to be an apple orchard, which broke my heart," says Leva. "We closed off an entrance to the old orchard, and built a stone wall. That was the catalyst for the beginning of the garden."

(N.B.: This is the third in a series about readers' Secret Gardens. For more, see "Beauty in the Berkshires" and "What a Landscape Architect Plants at Home.")

Photographs courtesy of Michael Leva.

Above: The kitchen door on the side of the house is "the entrance," says Leva. "There's no walkway through the lawn to the front door. There is another side door, which was a funeral door—they had 'showings' in the 1700s and couldn't meander in and out of hallways with caskets, so that door goes directly into the parlor. If I have a formal party, I use the funeral door."

The kitchen door's granite stoop, which dates to the 1700s, is flanked by boxwood and a myrtle topiary.

The house is painted a custom color Leva describes as "kind of a green-y taupe. They cringed when I walked into the paint store because I kept saying, 'Add two more drops of black.' It took me forever to mix it."

Above: The back patio outside the kitchen. The path is lined with pots, including a bay laurel standard underplanted with euphorbia.

Above: The Long Border. Leva inherited the blue spruce (R) when he bought the property. In the border: Joe Pye weed, phlox, echinacea, artemesia, heuchera, smoke bush and "tons of hydrangeas," says Leva.

In the spring, Leva trains clematis on tuteurs; in the fall, sedum Autumn Joy blooms.

"It's a layered garden—I really like the idea of planting something tall right in the front and then have things sprout up and out in a way that looks like wavy water," says Leva. "It takes a fair amount of maintenance to keep that from looking like a mess."

Above: An intimate view of the Long Border: black cosmos, Queen Anne's Lace, euphorbia, and white coreopsis. The big leaf in the background belongs to a cardoon; its silvery foliage makes a dramatic foil.

Would you like us to feature your garden in an upcoming post? If so, send us some photos. For more information, see "In Search of Secret Gardens, Reader Edition."

Above: Through the rustic gate is a mown path that cuts across a wildflower field of QueenAnne's Lace and yarrow and goldenrod and wild sunflowers.

Above: When Leva bought the property, the cedar fence surrounding the pool was bare. "It looked like a fort to me; I used to call it Fort Apache," he said. "I immediately started planing vines all over that structure."

Now he keeps the vines—a jumble of climbing hydrangeas, kiwi, grapes, and clematis—pruned into curvy shapes. "It's elaborate now," he says, "all these mounds of vines trimmed into bubbly shapes."

Above: The bottom of the pool is "intensely painted to look like a pond, with about nine different colors of paint," says Leva. "The first time my father came, he said, 'you have to get someone out here because there's algae in the pool,' and I said, 'No, that cost extra.' "

Lamb's ear, salvia, Love-lies-bleeding, and and chives are allowed to spill into the pool. "It's so lovely to in the pool just staring up at the plants and the thousands of honeybees and bumblebees," says Leva. "

Above: Connecticut is not an easy place to garden, says Leva. "The winters are really brutal and the summers are brutally hot." Yet his garden has no in ground irrigation and the only things he waters are brand new plantings. He choose plants—such as Lamb's ear and artemesia—that don't need a lot of water.

Above: An allee of PeeGee hydrangea standards bordered by a privet hedge.

Above: A view of the Litchfield hills—and a real cornfield—at the edge of the property. "All that pink phlox would be too precious, too 'phoofy' without the Joe Pye weed to take it down a little," says Leva.

What does your garden look like in the spring? Send photos to edit(at)remodelista.com and we may feature it in an upcoming "Reader's Secret Garden" post.

We've been admiring a collection of warm birdhouses for cold weather, offered by Dille & Kamille, Belgium's version of a hardware store (translation: a shop where everything is beautiful as well as being utilitarian).

Above: A braided Nest Pouch for Small Birds (Top) was designed especially to please wrens; it's €6.50 from Dille & Kamille.

Above: The Apple Cottage is a bird feeder that requires an apple but no seeds; €4.95. To vary birds' diet, consider a Bread Bird Feeder ($7.49 from Backyard Gardener).

Above: A Birdhouse for Great Tits also offers refuge to pied flycatchers and pimpelmeesjes is €12.50; hang it in a shady spot and out of the reach of the neighborhood cats.

Above: Made of weatherproof spruce, a Sparrows Flat can accommodate a group of birds that likes to nest together; it's €22.50 from Dille & Kamille.

For more ways to keep birds warm this winter, see "Up on the Roof: A Red Tile Birdhouse" and "5 Favorites: Birdhouses."

N.B.: For more, see "Shopper's Diary: Dille & Kamille in Bruges."

A few years ago when my mom was living in Napa Valley, she had an ongoing battle against the local deer and turkeys over the almost-ripened fruit she had been waiting for all winter. Recently I spotted this simple (and not completely unattractive) way to cover fruit trees in the winter, keeping them safe from nearby birds and animals until ready to harvest.

The idea comes from Blue Hill Farm, a 138-acre farm in Great Barrington, Massachusetts, where pear trees were covered in a lightweight fleece cover and tied off with sturdy twine. After flowering and pollinating are over, cover green fruit with our sources below—and see this week's 10 Easy Pieces: Plant Blankets for more ideas for keeping the garden warm.

Above: A pear tree covered in the garden at Blue Hill Farm; photograph via EATspeak.

Above: Jute Twine (from $1.89 to $19.99 from Dick Blick) and a pair of Scissors ($12 from Brook Farm General Store).

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. Photograph of broccoli under twine from Fiskars.

N.B.: Looking for more DIY in the garden? See 115 other DIY Project Ideas in our archive.

From Holland’s Sneeboer Company, known for high-quality, hand-forged Dutch garden tools, comes a stainless steel snow blade that may be the last snow shovel you will ever need to buy:

Above: Designed for a lifetime of use, the Stainless Steel Snow Blade has a natural ash wood handle; $88 at Terrain. No need to worry about blade wobbling from inferior construction as each piece is hand-forged of sturdy 16-gauge stainless steel.

Above: The Stainless Snow Blade measures 10-inches high and 20-inches wide, with a 63-inch long handle.

To see more Sneeboer Tools, see "World's Best Garden Tools From Holland."

A cozy home for feathered friends, this terra cotta nest is perfect for gardeners who love their birds.

Fashioned from a classic ceramic pot with a Douglas fir front, the rustic/modern bird sNEST (No, that's not a typo) is quite at home in any garden. Real enthusiasts could even hang several staggered along a wall, making for a very stylish avian apartment complex.

Above: bird sNEST is available at All Lovely Stuff; $48.

Above: Industrious types could even make their own terra cotta nest. (For more birdhouses, see "Bodega Birdhouses by Roost."

Above: A detail of the Douglas fir plywood front shows the grain of the natural wood. (Are your birds craving warmth? See "Cold Weather Birdhouses from Belgium.")

Above: Exposed to the elements outdoors, bird sNEST will soon take on a lovely patina.

N.B. Looking for more avian housing options? See "Up on the Roof: A Red Tile Birdhouse" and "A Penthouse for the Birds."

Always, it was about the marble. My platonic ideal—the house I would lie awake and fantasize about—involved carrara: countertops, mantels, thresholds, and backsplashes. Pretty much every surface except toilet seats. For years I collected inspirational photos. Then finally, a few months ago I finished a remodel and marble was everywhere and it was perfect. Until one morning, when something went horribly wrong:

Above: The Malmo, Sweden, kitchen of designer and stylist Emma Persson Lagerberg, photographed by Petra Bindel.

"Nooooooo," I screamed after I walked into the kitchen, where sunlight bathed the beautiful backsplash above the stove. Except it wasn't beautiful anymore. A nasty nicotine-yellow stain was licking its way up the marble, starting at the stovetop and stretching all the way to the exhaust hood.

"Oh my God," said my husband, who had come running. "How did this happen?"

That was the question. I felt like a character in a caper film who had just been foiled (?) as she casually strolled out of a museum wearing a priceless diamond tiara heisted from a display case. Surely, to finish the remodel had involved every bit of wiliness and cunning I was capable of channeling. To get to this point, I had to: wait for my older daughters to grow up and leave home; sell one house; buy a wreck; assure my husband the wreck which he referred to as "Michelle's Folly" was salvageable; rent it out; move to New York; supervise the remodel from 2,500 miles away, and move back with the project behind schedule and nowhere to live.

Then finally, it was finished. You think a remodel will change your life by turning every part of your house into something new and clean and perfect. And that does happen. For about one minute. Then you move back in—with your mud-tracking family and your little dogs named Sticky and Larry and your old chairs with the scratchy feet—and things break, chip, get dinged and scratched and stained.

The first year of living in a perfect house is actually about learning to accept imperfection without falling into a deep state of despair. A scratch in the paint here, a leak in the basement, a hot water problem. These are all easy to fix. The crookedness that makes a nose perfect.

But this marble problem? It was the crookedness that demanded a nose job.

Above: The Greenpoint, Brooklyn, kitchen of painter Sarah Bedford and graphic designer Alan Hill; first spotted on Design Sponge (see our Steal This Look on the space).

Roast chicken was the culprit. The previous night, we'd had company and I'd slathered a bird in butter before consigning it to a 425-degree oven. Although I'd forgotten to turn on the exhaust fan until the fire alarm went off, in the candlelight of a dinner party I hadn't noticed the smoke damage.

"It must have come up from the oven through this grate," I said in a dead, beyond-shock tone.

"Can you get it off?" my husband asked.

I started to scrub. First I tried a mild solution of dishwashing soap and water. Then marble cleaner/polish.

The yellow stain didn't fade a bit.

I escalated, from diluted Simple Green to undiluted Simple Green to a vinegar-water solution to a diluted bleach situation to pureuncutbleach on a toothbrush. (I don't recommend this unless, like me, you come from a family where the bleach gene has been passed down for many generations, from one shaman to another who whispered the secrets of bleach cleaning in your ear while rocking you to sleep. In which case, feel free to take your bleach pot into the living room next, to deal with that stain on the rug. The rest of you—stay away from bleach.)

"Any luck?" my husband called supportively from the sofa, where he was watching football.

Above: A kitchen in Scandinavia photographed by Stellan Herner.

No luck. By now I was starting to panic. So I turned to the Internet for help.

After about two seconds of Goggling (as my father puts it), I learned that there is only one way to get embedded grease stains out of a porous stone like marble: you have to make a poultice.

"A poultice?" my husband asked (it was halftime). "Isn't that what doctors used in the 19th century to draw pus out of a boil?"

Above: A detail of Emma Persson Lagerberg's Malmo kitchen, photographed by Petra Bindel.

Following instructions gleaned from various discussion threads with subject lines such as "Can This Marble Be Saved?" and "ARRRRGGGHHHH-help," I came up with a recipe for a simple poultice. The basic idea was to mix an inert white powder—like flour, say, or cornstarch—with water to make a paste.

Adding mineral oil or ammonia to the paste would increase the poultice's effectiveness at drawing out oil, and also be something cool to brag about at my next family reunion. But my backsplash is above a stove; I wanted to avoid flammable substances. Instead, I got a stone cleaner from the hardware store and mixed some into the paste.

I slathered the paste on the backsplash and prepared to wait, as the Internet suggested, for 12 to 24 hours for it to dry. Then I scraped it off carefully with a knife and—it worked! Not perfectly (I had to re-apply another coat to stubborn, darker sections of the stain). But for the most part, it was a miracle cure. As the poultice dried, the floury paste sucked all the moisture—in this case, the tiny droplets of oil—from the stone.

Above: A kitchen in Australia via Dunlin.

The mystery, as my husband pointed out, was: why did this happen in the first place? All across America, people have lovely marble backsplashes above stoves, unsullied by horrible yellow grease stains. We wondered if ours had been sealed improperly. We phoned the installer, who said (no surprise) that he was shocked by this problem and had never heard of it before. "Of course," he said, "I've never heard of anyone else installing one."

Just in case, we re-applied sealer—three coats—to the backsplash ourselves. We plan to mount a 3-inch-high strip of stainless steel flashing against the backsplash to divert future chicken smoke and grease from the marble. I am sure it will be perfect.

(N.B.: To see my real kitchen, go to Rehab Diaries: Michelle's Mill Valley Kitchen Redo). And if you've had a similar experience, tell us about it in the comments section (misery loves company).

On a recent trip to Rome, I turned down a quiet street near the Piazza Navona, came face to face with the facade of the Hotel Raphael, and suddenly understood all the fuss about vertical gardens:

Above: Perhaps this was the original DIY vertical garden; 30 years ago the prime minister used to stay here when he was in town. Nowadays, in springtime the ivy vines on the wall act as structural support for other plants, allowing purple wisteria to drip down five stories of wall. Photograph by Yolaswinkels via Flickr.

Above: In December, when I walked past, the vertical garden was no less showy although the vines were wearing winter colors. Photographs by Julie Carlson.

(N.B.: Want to grow your own? See "DIY Vertical Garden Kit: Just Add Water (and a Wall)."

Inspired by today's post "The Original Vertical Garden via Rome," we asked a handful of garden professionals to recommend the ideal ivy to use for a DIY vertical garden. The hands-down recommendation: English ivy. Considered by some to be a garden pest and by others to be a garden helper, it is a voracious grower and seems to thrive on benign neglect (my kind of plant).

The age-old debate is whether Ivy is a benefit or a bane to the homes to which it clings. The English seem to have perfected the ivy-clad building. As described in an article in the Daily Mail, scientists at Oxford argue that ivy can be a protector.

Have a love or hate relationship with ivy? Tell us why in the comment section below.

Above: The garden professionals we contacted recommended the full-proof English ivy (Hedera helix) for your DIY vertical garden. Grown easily in zones 4 to 8, this evergreen is available in several varieties, including the Thorndale, which is known as being an especially hardy strain. Ubiquitous at most garden centers, Thorndale English Ivy (Hedera helix Thorndale) is also available in 3-inch pots through American Meadows (shipping begins in early March); $5.48 each.

Above: A fan of changing colors? Consider Boston Ivy (Parthenocissus tricuspidata), a deciduous plant that turns a brilliant red in the fall and is a fast spreader; it can grow upwards to 60 to 100 feet in length. It is also known as Japanese creeper; $29.98 at Nature Hills Nursery. Image via National Geographic (UK).

Planning spring plantings? See more of our Flora Features. For more DIY vertical gardens, see "Vertical Gardens Made With—"

If French gardens are formal and English gardens are not, then British textile designer Neisha Crosland’s London garden is the perfect combination of both.

Known for her oversized graphics and symmetrical geometric motifs, the Royal College of Art-trained textile designer finds inspiration in nature, especially in her garden where the influences of her second favorite city (her husband is Parisian) are apparent in the controlled wildness of espaliered and trimmed trees mixed with potted ferns and raised vegetable boxes.

(N.B.: Crosland’s designs are available in her newly launched online shop.)

Unless otherwise noted, photography by Christine Hanway for Gardenista.

Above: Topiaries and a and boxwood hedge bring formal aspects to the garden.N.B.: Want to try growing the same kind of vines against your walls? For instructions and materials, see Design Sleuth: Neisha Crosland's Espaliered Vines.

Above: The designer Neisha Crosland wears her own mix of Parisian chic and English comfort. Photograph by Antony Crolla.

Above: Crosland uses a large scale vintage mirror to create a focal point of interest on an otherwise blank wall.

Above: Potted plants are arranged casually against trained vines.

Above: The glass and metal doors bring a Parisian feel to Crosland's London home.

Above: Lush ferns sit in planters of assorted sizes.

Above L: Ferns inspired by Crosland's Gypsy Design have been sand blasted into stone by artist Paul Clifford and form part of a water feature inthe garden. A sample of Pollen (R) in gray from Crosland's recently launched herWallpapers 8 collection is available either through Neisha Crosland (retail) or through Turnell & Gignon (trade). Photo by Jan Baldwin Studio.

Above: An espaliered tree has been trained to fill out the bay of the garden wall.

Above: Gentleman's Cap Lime (R) from the designer's Wallpapers 8 Collection echoes the twisted but controlled vines in her garden. Photo by Jan Baldwin Studio.

Above: An old toy car with a rusty patina blends in with the garden.

Above: Galvanized metal raised vegetable beds stand in a nine square grid.

Above: Square raised vegetable beds share a similar geometry with the trimmed boxwood hedges.

The secret to getting vines to grow against a wall—and to taming them to grow in the right direction—is to build them scaffolding. To recreate the look at designer Neisha Crosland's house, you just need a few inexpensive hardware store items:

Photographs by Christine Hanway for Gardenista.

Above: Crosland created a grid system of support on the walls of her house like a large-scale vertical garden kit, giving the vines a clear idea of what was expected of them. To see how vines can act as structural support for other plants, see the Hotel Raphael in Rome.

Above: The three major components of the system are lag eye bolts, a turnbuckles, and steel cable.

Above: To build a similar grid, use inexpensive components that are widely available at hardware stores or online from Sears, such as 3.75-inch-long stainless steel Lag Eye Bolts (Top) for $1.99 apiece; Stainless Steel Cable for $62 for a 125-foot roll, and Stainless Steel Turnbuckles for $24.05 for a package of ten.

Above: After measuring and marking the shape of the grid on the wall, drill holes, using a drill bit the same diameter as the solid body of the lag eye bolts Screw in the lag eye bolts. Hook one end of a turnbuckle to a bolt and thread the cable through the other end, twisting cable to fasten it securely. (N.B.: Once you've got the support system in place, try adding to your facade with a DIY vertical garden kit.)

Above: For more, see Paris in London: Neisha Crosland's Garden Oasis.

Craving unity? Repot house plants in matching clay pots and group them on a table or in the window sill. We like these linen wrapped pots in diameters ranging from 4 to 9.5 inches, spotted at Terrain:

Above: Clay Linen Wrapped Pots are handmade and have a rough surface texture from being wrapped in linen during the sculpting process. Each pot has a drainage hole and comes with a saucer; available at prices ranging from $8 to $24 depending on size from Terrain.

(N.B.: For more pots, see "5 Favorites: Jet Black Planters" and "Self-Watering Planter by Joey Roth."

We’ve all heard of the yellow rose of Texas (many of us have even have burst into song about it). But the Texas roses whose praises experts are singing these days are called EarthKind—and they are tough and stubborn enough to survive the villainous growing conditions of the Lone Star State:

(N.B.: This is the third in a series about the best roses to grow in different zones. For more, see "5 Favorites: A Rose for All Regions, Northeast US Edition" and "5 Favorites: A Rose for All Regions, Northern California Edition."

How do a rose earn an EarthKind designation? For the past 24 years specialists at the Texas A&M University AgriLife Extension Service have been laboring in test gardens to create a home gardener’s dream rose: varieties that thrive with minimal water, no pesticides or chemical fertilizers, and very little pruning. The result has been roses like 'Spice' (Above). Photograph by Carmen Cano via Flickr.

Dr. Steve George of Texas A&M has been a leader in this research and he is the one who decides which roses are worthy of the trademarked EarthKind label. He has selected five which he says have met the EarthKind goal of being “beautiful roses for busy people."

Dr. George describes 'Spice' (Above) as a “Bermuda Mystery Rose” because it was discovered on that island and was most probably brought there from Asia before 1810—possibly, he suggests, by pirates. Its name refers to its peppery fragrance. It reaches heights of about 5 feet and blooms successively from spring to fall. An Earth-Kind 'Spice' rose is $8.95 from Chamblee's Nursery. Photograph by AgriLife via Flickr.

Belinda’s Dream, a shrub rose developed by a mathematics professor in the early 1990s, was the first rose to receive the EarthKind designation. It boasts a 114-petal count. In the spring and fall (most of Texas is too hot for roses to bloom vigorously in summer) Belinda’s Dream is covered with gigantic flowers from 4 to 5 inches wide; $18.95 from Antique Roses Emporium. Photograph by Betsy via Flickr.

The original red Knock Out rose is resistant to black spot, a plague in hot, humid areas of Texas, so it can be grown all over the vast state. It is drought tolerant, requires virtually no maintenance, and is recommended for beginning gardeners or those who have had trouble growing roses. As Dr. George notes, people frequently think they can’t grow roses because they have been sold the wrong ones. Knock Out is $9.95 at Chamblee Roses. Photograph by Photograph by Sonya N. Hebert via Dallas News.

Perle d’Or, a small shrub with apricot buds and fragrant golden pink flowers is easy to establish as long as it is not over-watered. It should not be planted in the far west or southwest part of the state where irrigation water tends to be highly saline. Perle d'Or can be purchased online for $8.95 at Chamblee Roses. Photograph by Marialuisa Wittlin via Flickr.

Souvenir de St. Anne’s is a dwarf shrub that grows to about 3.5 feet tall and so is good for small gardens. Its semi-double blooms are a delicate pink in spring and fall but turn white in summer. It is the most fragrant EarthKind rose but, like Perle d’Or, will not thrive where the irrigation water is highly saline; it's $18.95 from Antique Rose Emporium. Photograph via Dreaming of Roses.

When selecting EarthKind roses, it is important to make sure they are grown on their own roots and not grafted. They require eight hours a day of full sun and good air circulation (at least one foot of space all the way around) to hold down black spot. Texas gardeners are advised to plant roses in the fall because they don’t go dormant in winter and are able to get a head start before spring arrives. For more tips on planting and environmental soil management, see EarthKind Roses. Photograph by Doug Sinclair via Flickr.

Just because trees are dormant, doesn't mean the home gardener can be, too. Winter is tree-pruning season and the proper arsenal includes a pruning saw (for the thicker branches when pruning shears or loppers aren't enough). Here are ten to consider.

See our earlier post "DIY: Pruning Fruit Trees in Winter" for inspiration and tips.

Wood Handled

Above: The Opinel Folding Saw No. 18 has a beechwood handle and a 7.125-inch long stainless steel blade that folds into the handle for easy and safe storage. This saw can take on branches up to 5 inches in diameter; $47.95 through Opinel.

Above: In the Department of Japanese Gardening Tools: The all-purpose Silky New Mebae Pruning Saw works well for most pruning tasks. It has a wooden handle and sheath (replacement blades are available); $47.90 to $58.90 depending on size at Hida Tool and Hardware.

Above: The Corona Clipper 14-inch Folding Pruning Saw has a curved steel alloy blade designed for faster cutting. It measures 17-inches when folded; $23 through Amazon.

Above: In the UK, consider Joseph Bently pruning saws. The Joseph Bentley Wooden Handled Curved Pruning Saw (top) has a curved handle and blade. Alternatively, the Joseph Bentley Wooden Handled Pruning Saw (bottom) features a solid oak wooden D-handle and straight carbon steel blade; £12.99 each at Amazon.co.uk.

Above: The Fiskars D-Handle Pruning Saw features a fixed carbon steel curved blade and comfortable wood handle; $24.99 at Clean Air Gardening.

Non-Slip Handles

Above: A perfect partner to Felco shears for pruning smaller branches (up to 4-inches in diameter) and shrubs, the compact Felco 600 Folding Pruning Saw has a 6-inch hard-chromed blade that folds into an ergonomic handle for safe keeping; $31.50 at the Garden Tool Company.

Above: The Felco 611 Pruning Saw packs a punch, able to handle limbs of up to 9-inches in diameter. The 12.5-inch long blade is thicker at bottom and cuts amazingly smooth and fast. The fixed blade comes with a protective sheath; $61 at Garden Tool Company.

Above: Add to your collection of Japanese gardening tools with a pruning saw. The red handle of the Fugaku Namaki Pruning Saw denotes good luck (it is based on the color of the sunrise at Mt. Fuji). It is an all-around pruning saw that features fine teeth near the handle that get progressively larger and coarser towards the tip offering smooth and easy cutting starts; $36.90 at Hida Tools.

Above: The Burgon and Ball Pruning Saw features a patented tooth design, with three cutting faces per tooth, for optimal cutting performance. The saw has a secure blade lock mechanism for safety; £22.95 at Burgon and Ball.

Above: A super-compact choice is the Silky Pocketboy Folding Saw with a 130mm (about 5-inches) blade that offers surprisingly strong cutting capability, good for small branches and general gardening work. Each Pocketboy has a color-coded handle associated with the teeth configuration: red equals large teeth, black is medium, yellow has fine teeth, and purple has extra fine teeth; starting at $32.99 at Woodcraft.

For more pruning tools see "5 Favorites: The Best Pruning Knives." See more Japanese Gardening Tools in our Gallery.

Most tourists snap photos of the Coliseum or the Leaning Tower of Pisa, but let us not overlook what in my opinion is Italy's most important contribution to 21st architecture—the world's biggest vertical garden, with 44,000 plants on 13,600 square feet of wall at a shopping mall near Milan. (Plus, you can shop there.) Let's take a closer look:

Photographs via Tutto Green.

Above: Italian architect Francesco Bollani headed up a creative team including an architecture studio from Montpellier in France to build the world's biggest DIY vertical garden at the Fiordaliso Rozzano shopping center in 2010. It earned the designation of "world's biggest," last year, no surprise to its creator. As Boilani pointed out, "It took us a year to grow the plants in a greenhouse and 90 days to build the facade."

Above: In architect Boilani's DIY vertical garden kit were 200 different kinds of plants including long fiber spanghum moss imported from Chile.

Above: If you want to try a (presumably smaller) DIY vertical garden version at home, interplant layers of evergreen and flowering plants to create year round interest as seasons change.

Above: Among the plants Boilani recommends including in your DIY vertical garden kit is the grass Festuca tenuifolia, which forms pillow-y cushions on a wall. In summer, white coreopsis and small pink Delosperma daisiest will create a riot of color.

N.B.: For more, see "Vertical Garden Kit: The Ideal Ivy" and "The Original Vertical Garden: Hotel Raphael in Rome."