Pretty impressive, eh?

Yesterday’s blog about the transformation of the diningroom window into a hummingbird haven, prompted me to think it was probably time for the semi-annual “compare and contrast” posting.

I may not (and let’s face it, never will) be successfully growing and harvesting enough fruit and veg to feed myself year round, but, dang, the garden sure does look pretty these days.

This photo was taken yesterday.

This is where we began in May 2010. Pretty fucking impressive contrast, eh?

So, how did we get from this sad photo to the one above it?

Considering where I started in May 2010, I was quite pleased that three months later the garden looked like this. Please note the ceanothus (planted for its bee-friendliness to replace the dead rhododendron marking Jenny’s grave) in the bottom left corner.

I don’t seem to have taken a comparison photo in 2011. It was a bad year for the blog. Not much better for the garden. Hardly surprising, under the circumstances. The photo above was taken in April 2012 – first year I attempted to fertilise (semi) proper beds.

 

By the time this photo was taken in May 2013, I had (thanks to Krys and Glenn) a proper raised bed with fresh top soil. It was a good year for peas, beets, tomatoes, courgettes, squash and strawberries.

 

Alas, I don’t seem to have taken a comparison photo in 2014. Closest thing is this one of the prayer flags I put up confound and confuse Bambo after his garden invasion, but you can at least see there is now a second raised bed, thanks to the wonderful Cec Ashley.

By June 2015, the garden swing (best garden news of that year for both Stella and me) was added. Now let's see that first photo again.

Once again I say (along with giving thanks for the friends who’ve helped), pretty fucking impressive, eh? Oh, and FYI, remember that ceanothus I said to note?

This is what it looks like now.

The ceanothus is a buzzing

Honestly, it’s all go in the Gabriola garden. I will, I promise, do a longer update soon, but for now…

Remember this hole?

Well, thanks to the wonderful Cec Ashley, I am able to acquire that yard of sea soil.

The photo doesn’t really do it justice. That’s a lot of soil.

Which is just as well, because filling that hole requires a lot of soil.

And this is what it looks like now. On the left is a wisteria which is just about to bloom. In the middle a lilac tree which, small as it is, I am promised will bloom next year. On the right (temporary filler until I can identify a flowering shrub able to thrive on partial sun) some of my favourite fuchsias.

Elsewhere…

The ceanothus is a buzzing

Every blossom has a bee

And I’m prepared for Christmas

With a partridge in a pear tree.

Time to compare and contrast again

I figure every now and then I should probably – for the sake of my sanity – measure and celebrate progress. For example…

the bee-friendly Ceanothus planted in 2010…

is now five feet tall.

Although it did not bloom again this year

as it did last year,

this is the tiny shrub I discovered choked in a bed of weeds in 2010. It is also nearly five foot tall now. (Fortunately, Pat is being very generous with his lilacs.)

And then there’s the fig tree I purchased during Irmani’s visit in 2011.

It may not seem like much, but this plant has never produced more than one (admittedly large) leaf per branch.

And it may not be easy to see, but this year it has four leafs per branch. (Admittedly, as I said to Krys, it’s still going to be quite a while before I see an actual fig.)

No further progress with the giant hole, as I’ve been working on my column. In case you’re interested, it does feature the hole.

Back to digging tomorrow.

Oh, my aching arse

Two days of crouching and stretching and bending have left my under-used glutes screaming in protest. However…

the boulders are no longer in the hole and…

the hole is getting bigger and bigger.

I was going to try mixing some compost into the sand (which is basically what the soil back here is), but I’ve decided, to hell with it, I’m going to invest in some landscaping fabric, fill the hole with top soil and have another bed which is actually capable of supporting life. (Note to self: Ask Krys where she got the landscape fabric.)

Elsewhere (get your magnifying glass out again)…

Whether you can see them or not, beet leafs begin to appear.

And carrot leafs.

And peas!

And what’s this we see?

When she was here, Krys told me about her mum’s system for starting new bushes from old. Cut off the end of a branch, stick it in the ground and put a mason jar on top of it. Mini-greenhouse effect, as it were. So, given how much the bees love the ceanothus when it flowers, I’m thinking it would be good to plant more.

After all this digging – and to compensate for all this butt ache – I think it’s time for a large gin and tonic.

Bollocks. Lots of gin, but no limes and no tonic. Very bad planning indeed. A spritzer will have to do.

Floral notes

Back in the spring, when Krys was taking a turn digging the hole for my (one) apple tree, she tried to move this pot out of the way, not realising the rose bush had taken root in the ground underneath. She ended up being scratched by a rose thorn. “Well,” I said, unable to suppress a smile, “it is Clancy.” (This being the rose bush I’d bought to replace the bedraggled fuchsias marking crazy Clancy’s shallow grave.) Given the temperament of my old black cat, she did laugh.

I’d already pointed out to her the ceanothus marking Jenny’s grave and the rose bush marking the spot where last autumn I buried poor old Tri. Krys looked from Clancy’s rose bush to me. “This isn’t a garden,” she said. “It’s a pet cemetery.” Well, perhaps, but it is a garden, too. (That said, I suspect it’s not going to be long before I need another rose bush. Angie, Tri’s sister and very much Mike’s cat, has held on longer than the vet thought she possibly could last year. She’s a game old gal, who hopefully will turn 20 soon, but it’s just a matter of time.)

Clancy’s rose bush hasn’t been doing all that well. I think it might have managed one blossom per year the previous two summers, but, as elsewhere in the garden, this year is a whole new year.

There are already four red roses ready to open up.

Tri’s rose is also ready to bloom.

Elsewhere in the garden…

The dahlias Pat donated to the cause earlier this year are starting to flower. Unfortunately, when Krys asked me where I wanted them planted before I left for the UK, I picked the wrong spot.

They’re behind the tomato plants, which are much taller this year than I remember them ever being in previous years. Thus, you can barely see the dahlias. Note to self: move dahlias next spring.

And another floral note to self: I need to investigate bee-friendly late flowering plants. The bees loved the apple blossom (main reason I am being very philosophical about the lack of actual apples). Just as the apple blossom was disappearing, the ceanothus (which they really love) bloomed. And just as the flowers on the ceanothus were finishing, the blackberry bush started to flower. Again, happy bees. But what about after the blackberry blossom? The bees are still around, but I have nothing for them.

Must do better for the poor bees.

Après le déluge

Almost immediately after the cherry tomatoes are planted, the skies open and the temperature plummets. This goes on for a fortnight. Eventually, the rain, rain goes the fuck away. Happily, despite the weather, the tomato plants are flowering, so all is not lost.

The same, sadly, cannot be said for the basil. Apparently it was too early to plant outdoors.



The Genovese basil withers and dies (drowns?), but, on the plus side, the African Blue basil is hardier and seems to be responding well to the sun finally coming out.

Satisfy myself, in between rain showers, by planting another window box.



Now there are flowers to be seen through both the kitchen and diningroom windows.

Outside, Irmani’s fuchsia has sprouted its first bloom.



A week later, look at it.



Okay, okay. This isn’t Irmani’s fuchsia. I broke down last time I was in the garden shop and bought another one. I couldn’t resist. It’s all instant gratification for me. Apparently, my motto is spend, spend, spend – even though at the moment I have nothing, nothing, nothing coming in. (Yes, Mr Mikawber, I am ignoring your recipe for happiness.)

And now that the sun has returned, out in the garden…



The second row of peas I put in is starting to sprout. The squash, courgette and beets have survived the deluge and, one hopes, will soon be responding to some sunshine. There is no sign of anything which might possibly turn into an apple to be seen anywhere on the mini-tree, but that’s okay. I can be patient – especially now that I know Jane’s tree hasn’t produced an apple in eight (or was it nine?) years. After all, it took at least 12 years for the lilac to finally produce any bloom.

The ceanothus, on the other hand, is blooming beautifully.



And, as I hoped when I planted it in 2010, the bees are loving it.



And the first of the flowers are beginning to make their way indoors.



I don’t know how I could have lived this long without knowing that rose bushes will cease to produce flowers if you don’t snip the first ones off before the petals start falling, the bush will cease producing flowers. Stumbled across this very important piece of information in a novel (can’t remember which one) last year. Explains not only why my roses have been disappointing, but how important it is to read.

Oh, and by the way, what appears to be a bud vase is in fact a glass I stole from a champagne bar in Edinburgh at the end of a raucous night out with Lucy and Wanda. Oh, happy days. (Actually, I say end of the night, but that was just me. I’ll draw a veil over what Lucy and Wanda - both mums now - got up to after I got a cab back to our hotel, shall I? Doesn’t stop me having a giggle at the memory, though.)

Now we're cooking

Yes, dear reader, I do acknowledge the somewhat defeatist tone of your humble gardener’s last entry. Well, we can put all that behind us today.

A trip to the garden shop yesterday may not have borne fruit (fortunately the blackberry bush guarantees that outcome in a couple of months), but it has scented the property with the sweet smell of success.

I’m not exactly cooking with gas here (impossible as there is no gas on the island), but tonight I will be cooking with my very own herbs.

No, I can’t fool you. This is not a photo of the garden. This is the patch just outside the kitchen door. And, no, that is not some sort of cool, makeshift barbecue pit you spy. At some point in my absence someone decided to pile (I can’t say “build” as there is nothing to bind them together) bricks which had been lying around forever into a circle “feature”. You wouldn’t exactly call this a “feature”? No, neither would I. Doing something about this so-called feature is just one of many items on the long list of Things I Really Must Get To At Some Point.

Anyway, in view of the exciting news that deer don’t like herbs, I decided having some close to the kitchen door would be more convenient than having them way down the side of the house in the garden – especially while doing and undoing the wire fence stretched across the entrance remains my only “gate”. So, the herbs have been re-potted and are currently residing near the back door while I assess whether they can actually get enough sunlight there to survive. If the answer is no (which it very well might be) the herbs will be moved to the garden, by which time, I sincerely hope, there will be a proper gate.

And what, you ask, is with all the oyster shells? Well, I vaguely recall someone once telling me that oyster shells (of which, for some reason, there was a surfeit scattered around by the back door) are good for gardens. I even more vaguely recall this is because they keep slugs and snail at bay. Of course, this exceedingly vague recollection may be completely wrong – or, indeed, I may have imagined this long ago conversation. Only time will tell. (A further advantage of keeping the herbs in pots where they are is that I will never be planting anything edible in the surrounding ground (as it’s almost entirely rock), so slug and snail pellets can be scattered in abundance. (I do want to be an organic gardener, but as I decided in Walthamstow, there are some limits and slugs and snails are those limits.)

But wait, the excitement doesn’t end with the herbs!

I also purchased a ceanothus. I have always loved and wanted one of these, just never had anywhere to put one before. Wish I could say mine looked like the one above already, but that photo was stolen from the internet to give you (and me) a thrill of what’s to come. Mine actually looks like this:

Two very important things about this ceanothus. First, it makes me very happy to have something which will be absolutely beautiful marking the grave of Jenny and Clancy. Second, some research reveals that ceanothus are both deer-resistant and bee-friendly. These are two things I want very much to build into the garden of my dreams (or the garden I end up with).

Although I have discovered that deer repellent exists (no surprise there, I suppose), I am determined not to resort to this unfriendly (and no doubt toxic) product. There are trees galore and lots of undergrowth on my property and as far as I’m concerned the deer have an open invitation to munch on these. One of the loveliest sights on the island (as far as I’m concerned) is looking out the window and seeing deer wandering in your woods. I just want them sniffing over the fence and deciding there is nothing of interest to be had.

Bees, on the other hand, I want to have in abundance. I could (and those who know me know I often do) dig out a soap box to climb on and deliver a toxics diatribe here, but I will spare you, suggesting instead a read of this Guardian article.

Of all the brain dead toxic chemical-related things mankind has done since the mid-20th century (and there have been so, so many), pushing one of the most important creatures for food production on the planet to the brink of extinction has been our greatest crime against ourselves. Ever heard of pollination, you frigging idiot in a lab coat? Do you get why fucking up bees is a bad, bad idea? Clearly these guys had shares in McDonald’s and Burger King, ‘cos they’ve done everything they can to force a meat and wheat diet on the world. Bastards.

Oops, slipped onto the soap box without intending to do so.

Anyway, anyway. You can see why bee friendly and deer resistant is going to be my mantra at the garden shop, wherever possible.