There was a wooden picnic table under the grape arbor, where Zelma sat all day when she wasn't actively gardening. She shelled peas there. The older she got, she said, the less she wanted to be inside. Following Zelma's model, I will age ungracefully until I become an old woman in a small garden, doing whatever the hell I want. There was a time when this would have sounded unfulfilled to me, if not downright depressing, but now I look forward to it.
“A little Dave Barry, a little Ellen Goodman, a little
Marion Winik. . . This woman absolutely has a gift for
making people, even readers, feel at home.”
-Los Angeles Times
“The author’s humility and humor...keep this book
comfortably ensconced near the chatty diary of
-The New Yorker
“Chotzinoff’s fascinations are our lucky breaks.”
“Hip, anecdotal, and just plain fun to read.”
-San Francisco Chronicle
“An exquisite storyteller, and one of the most original
-CLARISSA PINKOLA ESTES
"Chotzinoff gathers a delightful gallery of men and women devoted to the promise of the earth. While she obviously shares their devotion...she also manages to plumb the roots of this magnificent obsession."
"I can imagine how wild and particular and full of humor Chotzinoff's Colodaro garden must be, because this woman absolutely has a gift for making people, even readers, feel relaxed and at home."
- Los Angeles Times