Hello,
Giving gifts can be challenging. When they receive my gifts, I want my people to feel seen, loved, and appreciated. Sometimes that means socks & underwear — sometimes that means a handcrafted project made while holding my dear one in mind. But there’s always a gift card, an easy or, dare I say, problem solving last minute gift.
My family has a complicated relationship with gift cards. We love to give the gift of an experience, or getaway, or decadent meal. That said, we (and by we I mean my dear ones) often lose gift cards – like seriously, more often than not. We’ve thought about attaching a giant something or other like convenience stores do to keep the key to the restrooms from walking away. We’re working on it, but we remain committed to giving gifts of experience and enrichment.
This is all to say that did you know that you can give a gift subscription to this newsletter. [details below] Not only is this a great way to introduce friends and family to a handmade garden, paid subscriptions, including gift subscriptions, have access to everything. Well, everything is a big word, but in this context, I mean everything I’ve created for this publication. Even if you gift a single $5 monthly subscription, your giftee will have an entire month to explore the archives, that’s 130 issues and counting. Thank you for allowing me into your inbox. It’s privilege I don’t take lightly. I’m so glad you’re here.
xo Lorene
P.S. I’m clutching my pearls over here because I messed up last week’s “send” on the newsletter.
Here’s a link in case yours went missing.
Once you purchase a gift subscription, the gift recipient will receive an email and be able to access paid content immediately. If they don't have a Substack account, one will be created for them automatically, and they can sign into a handmade garden to start reading.
Before the gift subscription ends, Substack will send reminder emails to the recipient (on my behalf) a week before and a day before it ends with the opportunity to purchase a paid subscription or subscribe as a free reader. If no action is taken, the recipient will be automatically unsubscribed on the expiration date.
Shop Talk
A suggestion for those of you who would like to give a tangible gift, like a signed copy of Color In and Out of the Garden because let’s face it, unwrapping gifts is fun. 2025 in Living Color calendars are sold out (thank you! ) but I’ve got loads of postcards and DIY color kits ready to ship quickly.
Enter the code: MERRY at check out to get 25% off your entire order.
It’s Evergreen Week
It’s evergreen week which seems only fitting since many of us have a fragrant tree in the corner of the living room and possibly garlands and wreaths to boot. Sometimes I wonder why I persist in posting my color studies. I know what they mean to me. I guess I’m hoping that they might connect with you too.
“A passing nod in the direction of beauty can reverberate across time and space.”
— from
All year long the plants in my garden swallow the sun. Come winter, when the days are so short and dark, ‘Daub’s Frosted’ juniper returns the glow with golden stems while the frosty blue green needles hint at snow. A girl can dream. Evergreen week continues.
I love a chartreuse conifer that smells like lemon, especially in winter. It’s evergreen (🍋) week.
Cupressus macrocarpa ‘Wilma Goldcrest’
While not technically “evergreen”, cyclamen are dormant in summer, their beautiful heart-shaped leaves with silver veining are striking in my winter garden. So I’ve dubbed the plant an honorary member worth recognizing during “Evergreen Week” — a botanical garden party game (that I made up).
Yew (Taxus sp.) is often described as “inky” green. I’m fascinated by the many ways in which language helps us to see more. I collect names for color. Keeping a growing list of words specifies and deepens my perception. And it’s fun!
Lime, olive, emerald, ivy, peridot, verdigris, sage, pistachio, avocado, moss, mint, jade — play along with me
Here in the Pacific Northwest we know a thing or two about green, Washington is the Evergreen State and I live in Seattle, otherwise known as the Emerald City. Our generous rainfall is responsible for our verdant environment. Also, moss is everywhere. During extended summer dry spells, moss dries up. Then with the return of the rain, it resurrects itself back into a plush, living carpet.