asters

These asters were a Thursday morning indulgent purchase from Sobeys. I always suspect that the cashiers and other various employees at high-end supermarkets can sense that I am a fraud, that I am much more accustomed to purchasing milk and eggs from a bargain grocer. The wide-eyed near swoon over the store's cleanliness, the guilt in my eyes as I watch someone else bag my groceries, the barely contained wince at the prices as they pop up on the register screen - all of these betray me. I can hardly help myself on even my best days. As my eyes go to the Bottega Veneta flapper dress in Vogue, so do they have little trouble smiling on the autumnal displays and sparkling rows of fresh produce at Sobeys. Chrysanthemums, gourds, haystacks. I won't weep over the dying garden if fall will linger a while!

Asters make me think of Walter Bishop. Aster, Astrid.

that sounds like a personal problem, part II

My sunflowers refuse to stand at attention.

(One of our industrious backyard spiders has spun a web connecting the tallest flower to the garage, as though in an effort to help me out.)

Also of note - I picked up some bulbs today at the supermarket. King Alfred daffodil, Violet Queen snow crocus, ranunculus specialty mixture. Further research tells me this latter is poisonous, which means it may not make the cut. Fall shall be upon us soon, and I don't really have a game plan just yet..

hey, sunflower

are you a good witch or a bad witch?

A recent purchase, and one of the coolest books I own:

I will warn, though, that it is something of a tease, offering up all sorts of uses for mandrake, when it turns out that the entire plant is poisonous, especially to children. Nevertheless, Gardener's Magic and Other Old Wives' Lore is chock-full of information and advice of dubious practical value, including, but not confined to, the following:

Never take a house with an established garden in which parsley is not growing, or you will never see the year out. The trouble for the previous owner may have been, of course, the fact that it takes an honest man to grow parsley; or he may have been aware that he who grows it well will have no sons and only barren daughters. All round, it seems safer for a man to make his wife sow it; and indeed there is another saying that where it grows well it is the man of the house who wears the trousers. (32)

Before picking or digging up, the plant should always be 'saluted' and told for what purpose it is needed, and if possible for whom, thus pacifying it and ensuring its cooperation. (33)

The (mandrake) root does go down exceedingly deep, certainly as much as five feet. The Greeks believed that you might even, if you fell into the hole when you had dug it up, tumble straight down to Hades. (37)

Both Bartholomew and the good Bishop Vincent of Beauvais testified that a decoction of heliotrope, drunk with the invocation of powerful enough spirits, had the power to give invisibility at will. (43)

Gardener's Magic and Other Old Wives' Lore was preceded by Old Wives' Lore for Gardeners, another title I'll have to snatch up some time in the near future. I'm thinking the 2012 garden might have something of a theme to it. Now, if I could only remember where I put my broom and pointy hat...

balls.

Ladies and gentlemen, I give you the loathsome squash vine borer...

...or, as I briefly considered titling this post, "MOTHERF*@KER!" Imagine my surprise when I dug up a zucchini plant whose stem seemed to have rotted and discovered one of these fellows pulsing cheerfully away, a silent, slimy death knell. He and his buddies have found their way into the roots of my zucchini plants and rendered them unable to take up water, which is the real reason for their recent wilted look and not, in fact, the extreme humidity we have been facing around these parts. They've all since been dug up and laid to rest in one of the yard waste bins. Disappointing, but the show must grow on.

small victories: cherry tomatoes

Garden salad, natch.

surprise hosta!

Observe the wonders one discovers upon cleaning years of weeds and accumulated detritus from one's garden. This is a hosta (presumably planted by the previous homeowner) that flowered just recently. Bellissimo!

novelty

Just so you know, this whole put-seeds-or-green-in-the-ground-and-get-fresh-edibles thing has high potential for never getting old.

small victories: green pepper

Dear First Green Pepper,

I'm afraid I owe you an apology. Hand to the stars, I swear I followed this recipe for Vegetarian Korma to the letter! Okay, okay, I omitted the carrots, because they make the husband whine, and I left out the jalapeno peppers, because the kids don't like too much spice, but other than that, everything was by the book! Nevertheless, the end result was bland, and for that I am sorry. You deserved a debut worthy of all your shine and green. You have to admit, though: it did look pretty.

Alas, something had to have gone awry in the making of the dish to make it, flavour-wise, such a snore. It wasn't your fault, green pepper. It was bad korma. Bad korma, indeed.

small victories: zucchini

Note: I realized too late that the frost on the frozen store-bought bananas looks a bit like mould. You'll have to take my word that it is, in fact, not.

Yes, I shall call my first zucchini a small victory because it was an incorrect ratio of wet to dry ingredients that caused my interpretation of the Wednesday Baker's recipe for zucchini banana bread to turn out more like bread pudding even after 20 minutes of extra baking, and not any lacking on the part of this green giant. (Next time, self, strain the wet ingredients after food processing, or don't be lazy about it and just grate and mash as needed.) Fortunately, though the lolling loaf received an F from me for structural integrity, on the taste front it was gold stars across the board.

I did manage to wiggle out a satisfactory slice for photo-taking purposes.

A parting - albeit unrelated - bit of news: there were fireflies in the fairy garden tonight. I fell a little in love with at least one of them, which I guess means that my sense of wonder remains intact. Always good to know.

the tallest sunflower, or, you win some, you lose some

The garden, as I greeted it this afternoon:

The bad news first, then: The rain must have washed away my Tabasco sauce barrier, as my JFK tea hybrid rose, which seemed, after a weak beginning, to be regaining some healthy green in its one sprouting cane, is bereft of its bud. Bother.

The rest of it is sunshine.

These are my best growing sunflowers, and the one at the end is the tallest. (A fourth can be seen peeking out from behind the overachieving zucchini leaves. I staked it; we'll see what happens.) I'm hoping August will bring out the big golden flowers; how perfect will that be?

I can almost smell the zucchini bread baking!,

I go away for a week, and my baby (pepper) is nearly ready for harvesting upon my return. *sniff* They grow up so fast!

photo post: jardin botanique Montréal

More photos under the cut!

photo post: Royal Botanical Gardens

Traveling with toddlers is always something of a crap-shoot, a reality we experienced firsthand today when we entered the gardens in Burlington with two restless little ones in tow. This meant that we kept our touring time short, before finally leaving to check into the hotel and go to dinner. Another thing I should mention is this small piece of advice: if you go to RBG, do not go on a Saturday! Hendrie Park was overrun with wedding parties and their accompanying photographers, none of whom seemed to have much patience for us, despite the fact that we paid the $13 per person admittance fee which gave us access to all of the open grounds. (We intended to visit Laking Garden in addition to Hendrie Park, but it is temporarily closed due to accessibility issues.)

More photos after the jump!

I love the smell of mulch in the morning. And the afternoon.

Weeding? Sort of check.

Mulch? Check.

This latter item has me feeling slightly more confident that my going away for a few days will not mean I return to find a garden of weeds and dried out plants. (We will most likely have someone stop by to give the thirstier customers a drink while we're gone, as well.) It is a curious concept, this drive thru soil and mulch pick-up business. Drive right up and through is easier said than done when one's vehicle is beastly and minivan-shaped. Mulch is beautiful, though, right? It smells like a lush, warm forest. I want to work in a garden centre. I want to plant trees in British Columbia. Dang, I love mulch.

I've begun what I hope will be a life-long effort to make use of the compost bin we inherited when we bought our house. Sure, I have to traverse a great jungle filled with blood-suckers - (and now, having arrived in what seems to be a bumper crop, what we call around these here parts "June bugs") - to get to it, but you say it's green and good for the soil and plants? I'm in.

Finally, we are departing tomorrow on a road trip bound for Gatineau. The Royal Botanical Gardens and Montreal Botanical Gardens feature prominently on our itinerary. My laptop is tagging along with me, so I may post as we go, or the yellow monster that keeps me connected to the outside world may sit neglected in my bag for the whole six days. Time will tell.

baby green peppers!

zucchini flowers!

to do: some light reading

small victories: another strawberry

This, the second ripe strawberry of the season, differs from the first in that it was not trampled beneath the feet of my giant. We actually got to taste it! I felt it needed its own post. I washed it thoroughly and cut it into four pieces. It was the family strawberry, and it was delicious - quite possibly the best strawberry I have ever eaten.

While I'm talking eats here, I want to mention tonight's dinner: I tackled Smitten Kitchen's recipe for linguine with pea pesto. The peas were store-bought, but the basil garnish was garden fresh! (Small note: I used fettuccine in place of linguine, because that was what they had at the store that was fresh.)

I have a strong suspicion that peas may find a place on the 2012 To Grow list, as my son adores them.

epitome

Source: "Glorious Disrepair" Iekeliene Stange by Sonny Vandevelde for Karen #12 [Editorial] via Honestly...WTF

July 2nd thunderstorm, aftermath

A right tempest blew through the Windsor-Essex County region last night. If not for the damage on the ground, it would be strange to look out at the blue and sunshine morning and think the violence of the previous evening was anything but a dream. An ominous sky that changed from yellow-green to a burning orange dropped sheets of heavy rain, and wind whipped the world around in a veritable blender. Fortunately, it could have been a great deal worse.

Just the same, I suspect everything will need a bit of nursing today.

like a boss

the zucchini, today's MVPs

Happy Canada Day!

I celebrated our nation's 144th birthday by putting some work into the beautification of the very minute percentage of her I have on loan. For the most part, this involved a great deal of weeding. Funny thing about weeds, I have a rather unorthodox policy when it comes to dealing with them. That is, if they are pretty and look as though they might serve as a parasol (or midnight snack) for beings with wings and/or pointy appendages, they get to stay. (I have always been of the opinion that dandelions are underrated.)

Case in point:

yellow oxalis

Another maintenance item I was able to take care of today was the staking of the tomato plants.

Tomato plant B (on the right) is still suffering from a case of droopy leaves. Yet, it has actual tomatoes growing on it, while plant A does not. Curious. Henrik the gnome is giving them both the thumbs up, anyhow.

I picked up the stakes at Walmart, as well as five new moss plants - Scotch, this time, to replace the Irish, which was starting to look dry and beige at the roots and just not spreading at all. I'll have to take more care with this stuff - make sure not to over-water and all that. Scott asked if I plan to feed it whiskey, and, really, that's not all that bad of an idea. Desperate times, desperate measures.

Kidding.

Oh, and these are some wild mulberries growing between our neighbour's fence and ours. Isn't it nifty how nature just does its own thing? Respect.

In conclusion, I leave you with these few parting thoughts/lessons:

1. Dear Pale Woman, No amount of diligent application and re-application of sunscreen will keep us from you. Accept that a tan and likely some sunspots are in your future. You say you have SPF 40 and a hat with a wide brim? Ha ha. It is to laugh. Sincerely, The (UV) Rays.


2. When spraying oneself with insect repellent, take great care not to neglect the bum cheeks. It should come as no surprise to know that mosquitoes have no sense of personal space. ("Oh, excuse me there. I'm famished. Might I have a drink of your blood, please?") They will not hesitate to fly up your shorts.


3. The first thing to do before driving a shovel into the ground is to check for buried power cords. (No shocks, thankfully, but a definite whoops! moment.)

a casualty

A giant in shark sandals squashed my strawberry this morning. Only the well-meaning look on his sweet face and the fact that my blood runs through his veins saved him from exile from the kingdom. No, it was an accident. He is two years old. Sometimes, when he is trying to help me, he mistakes the green pepper plants for weeds and yanks at their leaves. I won't lie, though, and say that I didn't experience feelings of disappointment and frustration as I tossed the pulverized berry out to the grass for some lucky bird. It was not my finest hour. Perhaps some Moroccan floor pillows and sunset meditation are in order?

getting to know you: yucca filamentosa

Allow me to open by saying that I can take no credit for this angel, nor can I take credit for her sisters in the backyard. They came with the house; I just took the pictures. Nevertheless, my hope with this project is to better familiarize myself with all the components of my home landscape, as well as to expand my gardening knowledge in general. What kind of gardener can't name the plants in her own yard? Some quick work with Google ("tall plant with bell-shaped white flowers") tells me that what I have here is yucca filamentosa. I am a fan, I must say. I enjoy the incongruity - long spikes at the bottom, soft white blooms at the top - and the way the epic shoot culminating in such bright flowers essentially makes yucca filamentosa the floral equivalent of an orgasm. A pleasure to meet you, darling.

a gramophone in the greenhouse

My seventh grade science experiment posited the question, "Does music affect the growth of plants?" Our teacher suggested we use mung beans, saying they would grow quickly and easily - both important qualities given our timeline. Thus, my long-suffering mother drove me to Bulk Barn, where we picked up what we understood to be mung beans. Whether they were mung beans or something else entirely will remain a mystery for the ages, but know that they did not grow even one bit, even after vigorous doses of August & Everything After and Much Dance Mix '93. (My beans, it seemed, did not agree with the assessment that rhythm is a dancer, and they certainly were not in the mood to jump around.) My science partner and I had to resort to established plants. One was exposed to music, and one was not. As I recall, we noted no significant difference between the growth of the two. Astonishing! Somehow, I still went on to win the science award in eighth grade, most likely for my groundbreaking comparison of the effectiveness of various laundry detergents. I expect that Nobel prize nomination to happen any day now. Anyhow, this is a whole lot of preamble leading up to a realization I made this morning on my daily garden visit: one of my tomato plants (sweet 100 hybrid tomato) is sad, and I need a hero. A hypothesis based on oh-so-reliable empirical evidence viewed by my twelve year old self that would suggest this fella is indifferent to The Beatles means that the Internet will probably have to suffice.

Symptom: drooping leaves at the very top of the plant. The bottom three quarters are healthy, and I even spotted fruit - (yes, keeping with the "scientific" theme of this post, I am putting tomatoes in the "fruit" category).

Theories:

1. blossom-end rot
2. over-watering
3. some sort of nutrient imbalance in the soil

Thoughts: Further observation is required to determine whether #1 is the problem. I have not seen any of the lesions described on the referenced page on any of the leaves. Mostly, the leaves just look depressed or tired, like they have had a rough go of things and need a cocktail or two and a Gossip Girl marathon. #2 and #3 seem unlikely, given that both tomato plants have received the same treatment, and only one is struggling.

Here's the plan: Switch from a daily to a once or twice a week watering schedule. Administer milk and water solution via spray bottle weekly. Research, bookmark, wait, and watch.

A more cheerful customer in region 1 is my strawberry plant.

Finally, I went on a mission to Home Depot the other night to obtain a shepherd's hook and hanging basket for the still far too bare spot at the front of our house (where a giant bug-magnet of a shrub once stood). My secret fear of being impaled by large unsecured objects whilst driving was alive and well as I transported my purchases to the gym and then home, but I am happy to report that there were no freak accidents. Yes, I am still as unhole-y as ever.

impatiens, my friends.

tiny new addition and other dreams

fairy garden toadstool, $1.50 (local dollar store)

This blog is intended to be not only a chronicle of my adventures in the world of gardening, but of my love affair with the little green space that has given me leave to tend to it and enjoy its beauty on a daily basis. Our backyard is straight out of Terabithia. When my husband and I were looking to move out of our apartment and into a house, it was the backyard of our present residence that wooed me first and last.

This is, you may recall, the King of Trees, (as of yesterday).

He is, and has been for some time, in need of a tire swing. He told me so himself.

I have visions of the evergreens that line the berm along the fence lit up with colour come December. Required for this task would be an exceptionally long and sturdy ladder, a gazillion strands of outdoor lights, a power source (or maybe just the mother of extension cords), and an individual (or several individuals) with not an ounce of acrophobia. Anybody know any firefighters?

On a less whimsical note, I need to step it up when it comes to the weekly weeding. Weeds weeds weeds. They are everywhere, and they are infinite. They break up through the rocks and under the zucchini leaves. When we are all dead and long gone, weeds will remain. Consider that for a moment the next time you catch yourself sneering at the crabgrass.

small victories: cilantro

easy butter chicken

Upon second glance at this recipe, I noticed that it read "coriander" and not "cilantro". As it turns out, they are essentially the same thing, with coriander referring to "the dried seed of the cilantro". As the accompanying photograph to the recipe would indicate, it was the author's intention that the leafy cilantro be used by us home cooks rather than the seed. Learn something new every day, you do.

one toe into summer

The little prince went away, to look again at the roses.

"You are not at all like my rose," he said. "As yet you are nothing. No one has tamed you, and you have tamed no one. You are like my fox when I first knew him. He was only a fox like a hundred thousand other foxes. But I have made him my friend, and now he is unique in all the world."

And the roses were very much embarrassed.

"You are beautiful, but you are empty," he went on. "One could not die for you. To be sure, an ordinary passerby would think that my rose looked just like you--the rose that belongs to me. But in herself alone she is more important than all the hundreds of you other roses: because it is she that I have watered; because it is she that I have put under the glass globe; because it is she that I have sheltered behind the screen; because it is for her that I have killed the caterpillars (except the two or three that we saved to become butterflies); because it is she that I have listened to, when she grumbled, or boasted, or even sometimes when she said nothing. Because she is my rose.

And he went back to meet the fox.

"Goodbye," he said.
"Goodbye," said the fox. "And now here is my secret, a very simple secret: It is only with the heart that one can see rightly; what is essential is invisible to the eye."
"What is essential is invisible to the eye," the little prince repeated, so that he would be sure to remember.
"It is the time you have wasted for your rose that makes your rose so important."
"It is the time I have wasted for my rose--" said the little prince, so that he would be sure to remember.
"Men have forgotten this truth," said the fox. "But you must not forget it. You become responsible, forever, for what you have tamed. You are responsible for your rose . . ."
"I am responsible for my rose," the little prince repeated, so that he would be sure to remember. (Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, The Little Prince)

Now that I am a little over a month into this experiment, I thought I would do a quick progress report. Playing in the garden has been a positive experience thus far, aided in part by my attempt at practicing an easy-going, optimistic attitude. For every misadventure, there is a lesson learned.

Misadventures

• The Case of the Melting Peony


• broken/bent stems on the behemoth, one celosia plant, the remaining un-chomped rose bloom. I am uncertain as to the cause of the breaks, but I have a list of suspects: recent heavy rainfall and winds; the local fauna holding careless aerobic sessions in my backyard; our long, unusually harsh winter (in the case of the JFK rose bush only). My salvage mission consisted of extracting the broken out-of-place sunflower and laying it to rest in a yard waste bin, staking the bent celosia (as well as the other as yet upright and healthy sunflowers), and saying a prayer to Chloris for my roses. Also, Miracle Gro (c/o Mumsie, yet again).


• the Irish moss' failure to flourish. The moss seems to be stuck in Garden Limbo - neither perishing nor spreading like the carpet for faery feet that I hoped it would. I am still hoping this problem is merely a result of transplant shock and will resolve itself in time. Until then, a little magic blue dust + water never hurt anyone.

Looking Forward

• Next week: The cilantro is going places! First stop, easy butter chicken.


• I am longing to see the lavender in bloom.


• July garden tour!

more fun with macro function: lilies c/o mumsie

My mother is a robo-gardener. An alpha. One day I will take some photos of her garden, but, until then, know that I will most likely only ever aspire to have the green thumb that she does. Case in point: being blessed with an overabundance of lilies, she offered me some to transplant to my own garden when I commented on how lovely I thought they were. I planted them in the front yard, as these ladies desire and deserve an audience. I sure hope they like it here! Thanks, Mom. ♥

small victories: basil

roasted red pepper cream sauce

Monday discovery: macro function

here there be dragons

I am not much of one for rules when it comes to forms of creative expression. Moreover, my intention in embarking upon this backyard journey has always been to embrace the joy of experimentation I missed out on by being a straight-laced girl with her nose in a book in my youth. (Books rule, though. Just saying.) The late blooming rebel in me, therefore, gardens in maxi skirts or hot pink cropped skinny jeans and plays fast-and-loose with "ideal" growing conditions. Region 2 receives a mix of sun and shade throughout the day. The dappled light lends to the enchanted feel of that little corner of our yard. I, the rebel Gardener (N.B. my theme song), have decided that this area can accommodate plants that prefer "full to part sun" or "partial to full shade". Sunflowers are growing here, albeit slowly. We may trim some of the surrounding trees before the summer is out. Regardless, in region 2, the fairy garden, it's all happening!

More photos of today's plantings after the jump.