Gardening is a conversation with the earth. The gardener does something, and the earth responds via the outcome. If you plant a tomato seedling upside down, for example, the earth will happily swallow it, thereby ending the discussion. A new dialogue starts every time the gardener sows a seed or does anything to disrupt the status quo, even something as mundane as digging up last year’s beds. Like any language, a garden dialectic grows to reflect the landscape, complete with regional variations. When I lived in the New Mexico hills, a seasoned farmer told me to begin planting when the lilacs leafed out. That advice saved me a lengthy conversation with the earth. Farmers, unlike most gardeners, do this stuff all day and are fluent in these things. Up here in Montana, some farmer friends of mine begin the annual conversation with a handful of peas. It goes like this: …