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!

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.

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.)

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.

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!

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.

in which my imagination trips o'er my wallet

I have, of late, grown quite fond of region 2. The faux mint continues to pop up in small patches, and one day I hope to vanquish it entirely, but it seems to be, at least for the time being, manageable. I pulled and dug out a lot of the out of place grass from this area, and at present it looks a lot neater than it did initially. This is a lovely little corner of the garden, where two trees - the umbrella and the reverse umbrella (not their actual names!) - stand and provide ample shade. Some sunlight reaches region 2, as the baby sunflowers presently poking through the soil indicate. Yesterday, I planted four patches of Irish moss here, with the hopes of turning this area into a sort of whimsical fairy-inspired garden. Speaking of fairies, though, I would love to create a set-up like the one featured on the homepage of this site. Alas, funds are limited, but I can't promise you won't see a set of these in region 2 before the summer is out! Around the moss, I plan to add some colour. There will still be far too much boring exposed soil even once everything has spread. I have very vague plans for this addition of colour - pansies, maybe, and marigolds? I'll know it when I see it, I am convinced.

Other dreams for this part of the yard include a stone bench and some solar paper lanterns to hang from the trees.

In another world, I planted a golden cascade climbing rose bush with the hopes of filling in a bare spot. I suspect it won't be quite enough, but it will be lovely anyway.