Arghhhh!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Yesterday I had leafy wisteria and clematis vines entwined in the back fence of the garden. Even though the clematis failed to flower this year (apparently this is not uncommon when clematises – clemati? – are replanted), the leafy vines spreading across the fence did look quite pretty. 

This morning when I went down to water the garden, there were no leaves left on the vines of either plant. 

A quick look around the rest of the garden reassures me that he didn’t get into the garden itself, merely managed to squeeze in between the trees and the fence. Bastard, bastard, bastard. 

Elsewhere, in long overdue garden news… 

The spaghetti squash plant, despite a profusion of flowers, has produced one squash. The baby watermelon plant, despite a profusion of flowers, has produced one baby watermelon. 

Disappointing realisation that all the squash seeds I planted that actually sprouted are scallopinis. Which is fine, I suppose, except I really did want more acorn squash this summer and it’s now too late to do anything about it. Oh, well.

The courgette plant, which wasn’t looking too promising, is now producing at a decent clip. (Recently made my first batch of Becky’s excellent courgette and gorgonzola soup.)

One nice surprise: For the first time since I planted it two or three years ago, the pink gooseberry bush has produced fruit this year.

Hardly enough for the gooseberry fool I was dreaming of when I planted it, but tasty nonetheless.

The cherry tomatoes are still producing an abundance of fruit.

Given the tastiness of the yellow cherry tomatoes I planted last summer (after fucking Bambo ate all the red ones), I decided to plant another one this year. This is it.

You can’t fool me. Not only are these tomatoes not yellow, they are three times the size of the cherry tomatoes. (Tasty, admittedly, but not what I thought I was buying at the market back in May.

Like the ridiculously early raspberries, the blackberries are ridiculously early this year. 

Started picking them in mid-July and genuinely cannot keep up. This would be a good year to make jam – if I was a jam maker, but I’m not. Even sharing them with Pat, there is an overabundance. I’ve already frozen about two pounds of them. (Good to know I may not have to buy any frozen berries for my cereal over the winter.)

Another nice surprise in “the back 40”. When it occurred to me a couple of months ago that deer do not eat rhododendrons, I decided to plant a couple in the back. Assumed at the time that they were well past flowering time, but look!

One of them is flowering now. And very pretty the flowers are. 

I’m pleased to report that, touch wood (short pause for me to touch both the desk and my head), the well is still holding up. (Or should I say filling up?) An ongoing worry nonetheless.

Apologies that the updates have been so few and far between, but what can I say? I’d rather be in the garden on the swing with Stella and a good book than in the house writing about the garden at my desk.

Zukes alors!

Okay, okay, okay. I know I am long overdue for an update and I do promise there will be one – eventually. For now I simply pose the question: are courgettes/zucchinis mutants?

When I left for Seattle on Sunday morning for the Mike Wallace Memorial Baseball Game, there were two young courgettes on the plant and two barely starting to grow from their flowers. When I went down to the garden this morning I had two fucking huge courgettes and two smaller ones. WTF?

Thank heavens for Becky’s courgette soup recipe, another batch of which I am about to make, otherwise I’d have to give the damn things away.

I reproduce it here for anyone having a similar problem.

Courgette and cheese soup

• 2 tbsp olive oil
• 1 tbsp butter
• 1 medium onion, roughly chopped
• 900g courgettes, trimmed and sliced
• 1 tsp dried oregano (or 3 tbsp fresh oregano)
• 600 ml veg stock
• 115g dolcelatte cheese, diced (or gorgonzola for more cheesy input)
• 300ml / 1.25 cups of single cream (Becky: I don’t think you really need this*)
• salt and pepper

1. Heat oil and butter in saucepan until foaming. Add onion and cook for about 5 mins stirring frequently until softened
2. Add the courgettes and oregano, with salt and pepper to taste. Cook for 10 mins on medium heat, stirring.
3. Pour in stock and bring to boil, stirring frequently, lower heat and half cover pan, simmer gently for about 30 mins.
4. Stir in cheese until melted
5. Process in blender until smooth
6. Add 2/3 of the cream and stir over low heat until hot but not boiling. 
7. Adjust seasoning if you like.
8. Pour into bowls and swirl in remaining cream.

* Like Becky, I really don’t think the cream adds anything.

Elsewhere: As you can see from the photo above of today's pickings, the blackberry bush has gone mad this year, which means there will be lots to freeze. Hurrah.

The yellow cherry tomato plants – the only kind available when I needed to replace the red cherry tomato plants eaten by the deer (grr) – have been producing well and are very tasty indeed.

And, in case you’re wondering how I’m keeping further invaders out of the garden…

So far, so good. Namaste. 

Blueberry thrill

The raised bed seems to be doing its job, inspiring me to reengage with the garden.

Even though last winter was not particularly harsh, one of the blueberry bushes Becky very kindly bought me in 2011 didn’t make it.



So, off to the garden shop I go. Following a somewhat ribald and amusing chat with the staff about the need of blueberry plants for a cross-pollination buddy, I purchase a replacement.



The construction of the raised bed has left me with a surplus of bricks (used last year to mark off the area of crap soil where vegetables would go to die), so why not put some of them to use?

At the garden shop, I also purchase a bag of gladioli, planning to use these to replace the apparently not perennial purple African daisies installed in the turquoise planters last year. (Yes, I did indeed manage to find planters which match the bench. Not bad, eh?)



There are 50 bulbs in the bag – far, far more than I could possibly squeeze into the pots. Stick some into another dead plant (last year’s basil) pot, then think to read the instructions. (Great for cut flowers, stagger planting every two weeks to ensure ongoing supply.) Ah. Decide not to plant them all and make mental note for staggered planting.

Check the seed pots started by Krys. Yes, it really does appear there may be some beets coming along. (Wonder in passing how long it’s been since I made borscht. I do believe it might be 20 years.)



Sadly, nothing else appears to be popping up. A greenhouse would be a lovely thing for starting this process, but there is absolutely nowhere to put one – not that I could afford one. A cold frame, on the other hand, seems feasible. How difficult could it be? Have a look on-line.



Yikes. This looks a bit complicated – unnecessarily complicate, I suspect. As Krys has pointed out, there are windows to be had for next to nothing at the recycling centre. Surely I could clobber something together? Perhaps not this year.

Do some weeding, water apple tree (for the second time that day) and the roses. Gaze once again in wonder at the purple buds which will be the first lilacs ever on my lilac tree.

It is, I do believe, time for a cocktail on the deck.

Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more

When my lovely friend Krys came out at the end of March to stay on Gabriola and take care of Angie the ancient cat while I was away in the UK, she asked what needed doing in the garden.

“Nothing,” I said. “I have officially given up. My soil is crap. I can’t take another summer of watching plants flower and die before bearing crops. I simply do not have the stomach for it. Until such time as I can sort out a raised bed loaded with quality top soil, I am growing nothing except tomatoes and berries.”

She looked quite disappointed, but what could I do?

“If you really want to do some gardening,” I told her, “some weeding in the side beds would be much appreciated.”

Off I went to the UK.

Sun shining and temperatures well into the teens when I left Vancouver. Overcast and freezing in London. Never mind. Becky had tickets for The Book of Mormon on the day I arrived. Quite possibly the funniest thing I’ve ever seen. Well worth a bit of shivering. (The following week we finally made it to see War Horse. Well worth the wait.)

Three days later it actually snowed. I had to break down and buy a pair of winter boots, as my canvas sneakers just didn’t cut it.


Hail falling on London.

The sun did actually come out on Friday when Becky and I spent a cultural day, starting with a visit to Tate Modern for the Lichtenstein exhibition. During a stroll along the South Bank to the original Tate for the vastly superior (and hopelessly promoted) Schwitters show, we came across the floating man.

I kid you not, he was floating on air. When I asked how he did it, he simply smiled and said, “Magic!” Close enough for cynical Becky and me. We both coughed up a pound.


Pausing for a fag (me) on Harry and Ruth’s bench, we made the acquaintance of some black-headed gulls. Apparently quite common, but I’d never seen one before.


Happily, the sun kept shining the next day for Irmani and Jonno’s wedding.


The bride, relieved that it’s not snowing. (Note open-toe sandals in previous pic.)


First fag as Mrs Smallwood.


The wedding really was beautiful, the reception a huge amount of fun.

Off to Stokey the next day to catch up with Tony, Rhidian and Ben. Decided to walk from the Defoe to the flat through Abney Park cemetery.


What’s this we spot surrounding multiple graves?


Turns out the jobsworths in Hackney council’s health and safety department had outdone themselves.


And here’s another interesting sign, spotted while I was on my way to meet my cousin Michael for dinner. Fucks Coffee? Yucks Coffee? Hard to say.

Lots of lovely visits with friends and family, tinged with great sadness at the death of my wonderfully formidable 101-year-old Aunt Jess. (Centre stage, below, with the five generations of her family at her 100th birthday celebrations.) I am so pleased the timing of my visit allowed me the opportunity to say goodbye to her.



And then it was time to introduce Becky to Amsterdam, where there was a crooked house.


And another one.

And many, many more.

A visit to the Rijksmuseum (newly reopened after a 10-year renovation) introduced us both to the Amsterdam Impressionists.


My favourite was Isaac Israels.


Becky went for Willem Witsen.

A sunny day stroll around Amsterdam the next day. Becky takes lots of no doubt very artistic photos. I snap yet another sign.


Although I need no reminder, the sign suggests it’s time to head back to BC.

WHAT ABOUT THE BLOODY GARDEN?

Yes, yes, I’m getting to that.

While I was away, gallivanting around galleries and going to the theatre, Krys and her husband Glenn, visiting for a week, built me a raised bed.


Oh, my god. This extraordinary act of kindness fills me with gratitude and dread. (The dread caused by the realisation that failure to actually produce crops now cannot be blamed on the soil and will rest squarely with me being a completely crap gardener.)

She’s even started some seedlings.

Beets, courgettes, peas and… And what? Damn, I’ve already forgotten. Hopefully it will become obvious.

Inspired by this, we go off to the nursery to buy more top soil and look for a fruit tree to plant behind the bench. A cherry tree would be nice, but, let’s face it, the birds will steal all the fruit. Moira at The Wheelbarrow explains why pears (my second choice) are a challenge. (Like the mystery seedlings, I’ve already forgotten what she said.) We look at apple trees. Holy moly! Who knew you could graft bits of apple tree together to create one tree producing five different variety of apples? And all the varieties (except the golden delicious) are actually delicious.

Now the only question is whether it is possible to dig a big enough hole in my rock-riddled garden. We come back to the house and dig a hole. Success! Back we go to The Wheelbarrow to buy the tree.


Assuming it lives (and I really will do my best, I promise, Krys), I will eventually have wonderful apples.


Yes, yes, I’ve said it before, but I know this really is going to be the year.

And the reason I know is that, 15 years after it was originally planted and three years since I rescued it from the deer, my lilac tree is actually producing blooms for the very first time.


It’s a miracle!
,
Well, I hope it’s at least a sign.

Wish me luck.

Brown is down

Some non-garden news for Irmani, Krys, Becky, Catherine and other followers of the Down with Brown project. I’m pleased to announce that Brown Is Down.

I did consider trying to paint these beams myself, but, what with the odds of falling and breaking my neck and the inability of either of the cats to ring for an ambulance, eventually decided it would be safer to get some painters in – even though I couldn’t really afford it. Worth every penny. (The sad thing is, if Mike was still around, like me, he would love it.)

Speaking of things I (really) can’t afford, I’ve also broken down and ordered a new sofa to replace the green monster. Had to be done. Unfortunately, Irmani won’t get to see it when she visits, as it won’t be delivered until mid-June. Photo will follow.

Now all I have to do is figure out how to get rid of green monstrosity without having to pay someone to take it to the dump in Nanaimo.

PS Still no sign of my lettuce. Humph.

La dame aux camelias

Another afternoon in the garden. I’m dive-bombed by the first hummingbird I’ve seen this year and also spot my first butterflies. Spring is indeed sprung.

So, the vegetables are sorted (ha, ha), but what about flowers?

At the garden shop I take a gamble. This flowerbed has never been wildly successful before, but with some lime and some manure, can it support a camellia? Will it at least live long enough for the other eight buds already visible to open up? I can but cross my fingers and hope.

Wouldn’t it be lovely, I also think, to get some wisteria growing along the fence? Yes, I decide, yes it would.

So, in addition to the Stargazer lily bulbs I buy and plant in pots, I also plant a young wisteria (behind). Pat has these lilies growing in pots on his deck. Not only are they as lovely as the illustration suggests, but they have the most heavenly aroma. And now I shall have my own.

Suspect it will be a while (decades?) before my wisteria coverage will be in competition with Becky’s dream home.

I don’t really mind, because it’s still only April and look!

How beautiful is this looking? Seriously. I am gobsmacked. (As will Pat be when he gets back this week from his snowbird holiday with his Alberta lady friend.)

Oh, and PS: This one specifically for Irmani.

Lots of new growth on the fuchsia. Hope it’s flowering when you get here next month. Can’t wait!

Becky finds her dream home

Yes, yes, I know. I got everyone all excited about the blog starting up again and then dropped you all. Not my fault.

First I had a piece of work land in my lap which has a very tight deadline, necessitating 10+ hours a day at the computer, a sore neck, sore shoulders and, eventually, the need to forage in the freezer for some of Mike’s old supply of ready meals.

Then my friend Becky visited, so, again, not much time for updating blogs.

A lot has been going on in the garden and I promise I will get to this soon, but today’s entry is for Becky, who may be joining me permanently on Gabriola, now that she’s found her dream home. (If she’s decided, now that she’s back in Leyton, that she really can’t live without opera, theatre, art galleries, electricity, running water and all the other excitement of London, I’ll have to let Rowan know before someone else snaps it up.

It was the wisteria that prompted us to stop and get out of the car for a look.



Not only is it for sale, but you don’t even have to arrange a viewing.

Bit difficult to get in through the front door.



So we went round the back.



We were immediately struck by all the indoor plants.



There’s a lovely fitted kitchen.



Unfortunately the bathroom has neither hot nor cold running water at the moment.



But, in the livingroom, there is a lovely tile surround for a wood stove.



A few problems with the bedroom floor, as Becky discovered when she fell through it. Fortunately no permanent damage – to her.




The garden, it must be said, could do with a bit of work.



The television reception’s probably a bit dodgy.



But that’s okay, because I think she’s going to be too busy to watch telly.

Garden news anon. I promise.