Anyone can tell you that I appreciate gadgets and geegaws. That fascination doubles for gardening implements or plant-saving gimmicks. I owe my plants a fighting chance of survival.

In fact, I could be a tester for products As Seen on TV … and someone should test those things. I have numerous glass globes guaranteed to water your plants even when you don’t. They are lovely, delicate ornaments. As to the watering part, not so much. But when the plant shrivels up and dies because you’ve forgotten to water it, there’s still something nice to look at in the pot.

I also bought a plastic bird that is supposed to “sing” when the soil is dry. Turns out this one is hydrophobic; it electronically screams when I water the plant, but remains blissfully silent through the most severe house drought.

Outside, my plants fare better because there’s a good chance it will rain in time, thank goodness and Lake Superior, and because I haven’t been picky about whether my “flowers” are technically ornamental, native or pleasant-looking, hardy noxious weeds. Gardens, like the weather around Lake Superior, really should be a bit unpredictable.

My mom seeded beautiful flowers that honor her green thumb each year … red roses, white peonies and orange poppies, of which I am particularly fond because they are so festive, and because they returned even after I accidentally weeded most of them out late one summer when I thought they were some type of prickly plants.

What my gardens lack in desirable flora, they make up for in funky store-bought fauna … swinging moose (upright and snoozing), poker-playing reptiles and amphibians, goofy-faced metallic birds and other “exotic” species. I am unapologetic about these items because there is a whole segment of the economy, here and in China, that depends on my questionable gardening skills and even more questionable sense of humor. If a garden doesn’t bring out a smile, is it really worth the weeding?

Raised near a Great Lake known for its fickle weather patterns, I take deep pleasure in the surprises. Often the weirdest looking plants produce the most brilliant blooms, or one of our newly planted trees will have an incredible growth spurt or a forgiving part of our little acre will sustain a late-season impulse buy … like the yellow roses that return each year - to feed the deer and bunnies, naturally - but were listed for “Zone 5,” a zone not usual in our Big Lake neighborhood.

When this issue reaches subscribers, there may still be a late-season snowstorm in the Lake’s 2009 plans. Or you might be reading this outside on your porch on a balmy, sunny day. One never really knows until spring is sprung what the year will bring.

To tide you over until summer - a more predictable season in terms of sun and warm days - this issue gets you outside in advance. You can visit with some Wisconsin apple-belt farms and gardens that cater to flowers and many things Spring. Or you can dream of the open road on your motorcycle or bicycle in our Recreation Guide. You’ll also find birding, hiking, kayaking and golfing ideas there. It might be June before we’re ready to take out the bike (although some hardy lake residents use bikes and motorcycles on dry winter days), but those unpredictable seasonal shifts are just one of the things I adore about living by Lake Superior.

What do you love about living by the Big Lake?
We’d like to publish answers to that question in our special anniversary issue.

So while you’re waiting to get outside, take time inside to send your thoughts about Big Lake living to me at my e-mail address or by mail to me at Lake Superior Magazine, P.O. Box 16417, Duluth, MN 55816-0417.

I suspect your answers will be as surprising and delightful as a Lake Superior spring.

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