​In a town of fewer than 4,000, Grantham has more than its share of angels.  Unlike typical angels who wear immaculate, white robes, these angels aren’t afraid to get dirty. Instead of wings on their backs, they carry shovels in their garden-gloved hands. Instead of floating over clouds, they dig down in the dirt. Here’s the story:
 
The Grantham Garden Club ran a bulb sale fund raiser to benefit their scholarship and grant funds, educational programs, and civic gardens. Bundles of bulbs were delivered to GGC president Elise Kendall’s home. Elise reached out for volunteers to help sort the 1,250 bulbs. Soon an assembly line of nine workers filled bags with the correct number of bulbs for each customer. In no time, folks were sipping Elise’s warm mulled cider and celebrating a job well done. 
 
The Garden Angels are people who bought 380 bulbs for the town, and/or sorted, delivered, and planted them. Early on a crisp autumn morning, the planting was done. My job was to photograph these angels going about their good work. Like all angels, these were somewhat elusive. I often came to a spot with freshly dug dirt but nary an angel in sight. As I drove up and down Route 10, I would think I spied some angels only to discover stuffed scarecrows or people waving election signs. My perseverance paid off, and I was able to get some pictures to share with you.
 
As I chatted with these wonderful volunteers, the Saint Crispin’s Day speech from Shakespeare’s Henry V popped into my mind.  I know, that’s a little bit of a stretch, but imagine how happy this band of angels will be next spring when daffodils start popping up all over town. 

​Ferns are the oldest group of plants on earth with fossil recordings dating back 390 million years ago. The type of ferns we see today evolved a mere 70 million years ago. And evolve they did. There are about 12,000 species of ferns worldwide with fewer than 70 species in New England. I’m a big fan of the home team ferns. They thrive in shady areas and add gorgeous shades of green throughout the forest. In autumn, many turn tan or yellow while some keep their deep green color all year like the christmas ferns. The only edible fern is the ostrich fern whose fiddlehead are highly sought after in the spring. 
 
The fern life cycle takes two generations of plant to procreate—known in scientific terms as diploid and haploid. I failed in my attempt to write the process succinctly. I would need to explain all sorts of things like rhizoids, archegonium, and apogamy; but trust me, it takes two generations. The two-generation system must work well because there are zillions of ferns growing everywhere. Nature continues to astound.
 
Here are some photos of a tiny fraction of the ferns I’ve seen on my hikes in the forest and include hay scented, cinnamon, christmas, interrupted, wood, hay scented (up close), bracken, sensitive, maidenhair, polypodies, braun's holly, new york, and lady fern