I am not yet the old man who plants trees under who's shade he will never sit. I'm stuck on ferns. In my yard, I hope to overtake the forest with so many ferns that a brontosaurus might move in ... oh wait, those are extinct... or never existed. It's called an Apatosaurus Excelsus now. It will always be thunder lizard to me. I'm old fashioned like that, prehistoric. My fern project needed some planning – don't mind wasting money, it's time in the sun that burns me. I keep a small council of advisers on gardening to make sure I do it right. If I am ever appointed Czar of the People's Politburo Committee on Gardens, Forestry, and Green Stuff of the Upper Cumberland, then Betsy Moon is going to be my committee chair. I go to her for gardening answers – she's a pro. Last year, my friend Ivan inspired me to convert my yard to native plants When Invasive species show, measures must be taken. I got aggressive, went to Betsy for professional advice. Betsy knows everything. Her advice paid off BIG & GREEN – lush. (say “lush” out loud. You'll enjoy it.) She saved me work... I'd have saved more labor if she'd manage our 13-year-olds digging holes. As it was, I did the digging and Betsy did the laughing. She's good at that too. I appreciate what Betsy knows. Want to do the job right? Don't call me – I just dig holes - call Betsy: work, 931/ 235 0532.