It's comforting to know that the President of the Garden Club has already been elected.

The President of the Garden Club suppresses a tiny sigh as she moves the hose yet again.

The dog of the President of the Garden Club appears—alas—to have been hunting the squirrel.

The problem with a green thumb, muses the President of the Garden Club, is that it wreaks havoc with one's manicure.

On a day like this, a cooling drink on the veranda sounds about right to the President of the Garden Club.

Impatiens in full sun—a GC no-no

There are moments when the President of the Garden Club wishes she had never heard of impatiens.

You have to get up pretty early in the morning when you are President of the Garden Club—especially if it promises to be a scorcher.

Sometimes the President of the Garden Club lies awake wondering if this year, too, the wild turkeys will gobble up the blueberries.

After dealing with the perennial bed, the President of the Garden Club decides that a small glass of something couldn't do her a mite of harm.

En route home to her own neglected garden, the President of the Garden Club can't but feel a twinge of fear about what may await her.

The President of the Garden Club fails to identify a lovely gift shrub.

Having inspected the grounds, the President of the Garden Club risks a small siesta.

the coronation

I am the sister of the President of the Garden Club.