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.