Sage Gardener

Let others search for what may turn out to be America’s most unwelcome Valentine’s Day gifts (according to one survey) — heart-shaped boxes of chocolates (22 percent say please don’t), flowers (28 percent!) and furry handcuffs (34 percent). Nope, not me. And I’m going to let you in on a very dirty little secret. The Sage Gardener’s partner in grime really digs receiving seeds and plants on February 14th. This year, for instance, I’m focusing on stinking lilies, members of the aromatic allium family, such as Bulgarian giant leeks, Walla Walla sweet onions and Dutch yellow shallots. Imagine the pleasure of spending more than half a century with someone who loves raw onions on top of pinto beans, 40-clove garlic chicken and scallion pancakes as much as I do. And on the off-chance you don’t have access to the internet, “Like oysters, chocolate and hot peppers, the allium is a secret aphrodisiac.” That, revealed in a no less authoritative source than Well+Good’s YouTube series, “You Vs. Food.” So buy now, plant now, and reap, ahem, the benefits of alliums in the spring, summer and fall. NCSU says it’s prime time to get most of them into the ground. My green-thumbed fairy already has leeks bedded down. Me? I’ve planted a platoon of Egyptian walking onions, which are reproductive wonders, multiplying underground while also producing what my neighbor called “bubbies,” botanically referred to as topsets or bulbils, proliferating at the top of the stalk where flowers and seeds would normally be. Let’s face it. What plants could be sexier than alliums? Suggestions welcomed.

— David Claude Bailey

Aquarius

(January 20 – February 18)

You’ve heard the tale of the two wolves, right? The good wolf and the bad wolf at battle within each of us? The one you feed is the one who wins. This wisdom is particularly applicable for you this month, Water Bearer. Although your wolves may have different names — visionary and fool, perhaps — the message is the same. Which animal will you feed?

Tea leaf “fortunes” for the rest of you:

Pisces (February 19 – March 20)

It’s time to shake some dust.

Aries (March 21 – April 19)

Rainbows and sunshine, baby.

Taurus (April 20 – May 20)

Say it with flowers.

Gemini (May 21 – June 20)

Probiotics with the assist.

Cancer (June 21 – July 22)

You can’t rush your own spring.

Leo (July 23 – August 22)

The cake is not done.

Virgo (August 23 – September 22)

Just use what you’ve got.

Libra (September 23 – October 22)

Trust your inner compass.

Scorpio (October 23 – November 21)

Don’t forget to claim your prize.

Sagittarius (November 22 – December 21)

Sometimes the shortcut isn’t a shortcut.

Capricorn (December 22 – January 19)

Shake it and start over. OH

Zora Stellanova has been divining with tea leaves since Game of Thrones’ Starbucks cup mishap of 2019. While she’s not exactly a medium, she’s far from average. She lives in the N.C. foothills with her Sphynx cat, Lyla.

It was the perfect evening for a winter festival.

The air was pleasantly chilly — or perhaps I should say chili — and spiked with the smell of fried dough and the bump of live music.

Revelers lined up to try their luck aboard a mechanical, bucking Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer. In another particularly American display of affection for the holiday, children in padded red suits and headgear tried to knock each other down in spirited rounds of Sumo Santa.

Yes, it really was shaping up to be an ideal Festival of Lights as my husband and I threaded our way down Greensboro’s Elm Street, when what to my wondering eyes should appear but curvilinear gleams of orange and yellow.

“Wait, is that . . . ?”

“What?”

“Oh, my God.”

“What?”

“It is!”

“What are you looking at?”

“It’s the Wienermobile!” I said, breaking into a trot.

I stopped in front of a bubble-shaped windshield, giddy at the fact that I was in the presence of an American icon.

I can’t say for sure when the Wienermobile first entered my consciousness. As a child of the ’60s and ’70s, I’m sure I saw it on TV, in holiday parades and Oscar Mayer commercials.

I have a vague memory of our family car passing a huge rolling wiener on Interstate 75, but I could be confusing that with a colorful tanker. Or it could be the result of wishful thinking and an excellent jingle.

Oh, I wish I were an Oscar Mayer wiener, That is what I truly want to be—ee—ee,

‘Cause if I were an Oscar Mayer wiener, Everyone would be in love with me.

Obviously, all these years later, seasoned by life’s experiences, I believe . . . that’s still true.