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.

Surprise!

Just as no one expects the Spanish Inquisition,

no one (least of all me) expects a garden update in January. However…

An unseasonably mild week drew me to the garden on Monday. Roses (already budding), raspberries and blackberry trimmed. Seemed like enough for this time of year.  And yet the sun continued to shine.

So, back I went this morning.

The strawberries and the short blueberry bush have now been transplanted to the raised bed Cec built last summer. The sea soil in the blue container is all that’s left of last year’s yard. The saddest news (for Gabriola and for me) of the new year is that Cec and Joyce have put their house up for sale and are planning to move to Vancouver Island. I need to get another yard of sea soil in pronto.

The other two blueberry bushes have been transplanted to better quality soil. Hopefully there will be lots of berries this year – and I’ll get to them before the fucking birds. 

The original raised bed (kindly built by Krys and Glenn) is ready for planting. In January. Blimey.

How self-satisfied am I feeling? Plenty.

And here, for no other reason than it was in the camera when I downloaded the garden pics, is the 2014 Christmas tree.

Happy New Year!

Advantage, raised bed

Well, I have to say, it was very satisfying last Sunday morning to sit down with my very own strawberries (and raspberries) and cream to watch the Wimbledon Men’s Final. It was, however, nowhere near as satisfying as seeing Andy Murray win straight sets. (Sadly, eight hour time difference meant I missed the first set and there was no champagne.) Yay, Andy!

And yay, too, for the raised bed with decent soil! (And once again undying gratitude to Krys and Glenn for making it possible.)

The courgette is flowering!

There are beets!

Peas, peas, peas!

No sign of flowers on the squash yet, but I’m hoping it’s still early days.

Lest you think there are a few too many exclamation marks, let me remind you of the final score in 2010, when I first attempted to grow food in the garden:

Peas: 0
Beets: 0
Carrots: 0
Broccoli: 0
Courgettes: 0
Squash: 0
Cantaloupe: 0
Lettuce: 0
Rocket: 0
Red peppers: 1
Tomatoes: tons
Blackberries: tons (for which garden project can take no credit)

And allow me to also remind you about my garden guru cousin Peter’s verdict on the crapness of my soil. And then allow me the elation I am currently feeling.

Once again there will be tons of blackberries. Although, as noted in 2010 final score, I get no credit for this. The blackberry bush was here when we bought the house in 1996.

And once again there will be tons of (grow anywhere) tomatoes.

Oh, yes, all very satisfying indeed.

Cherry (tomato) jubilee

With the May long weekend comes the return of the Gabriola “farmer’s” market. I put farmer’s in quotes because, as I once explained to Morag, unless you’re making healing crystal soup or tie-die salad, the market’s selection of actual produce is underwhelming. (And, yes, for those who’ve never been to Gabriola, there is indeed a definite new age/hippie element on the island.) In late May there is, however, one stall not to be missed: Lovely Linda, the tomato queen. I don’t know what mojo this tiny Thai woman mixes with her tomatoes, but they are the best.

I faff around a bit too much this morning, playing Wordscraper and, oh, I don’t know what else. Before I know it, it’s almost noon. Yikes. The market closes at one and Linda may have already sold out. Jump in the car, drive down to market.

And there, amidst all the crystal crap is Linda, her stall still populated with tomato plants. But are any of them cherry tomatoes? (I only really like cherry tomatoes.) Yes! There are still cherry tomatoes left, some already flowering. How many do I want, she asks. Four, I say. No, bugger it, let’s have six. We load them on a tray, I hand over my cash.

“Here,” she says, picking up another, smaller tomato plant. “This is different cherry tomato, also very sweet. Only one left. You have it.” Bonus.



Come home, plant tomatoes. Clap hands in gleeful anticipation. (One of the few successes I’ve had in this project is crops of cherry tomatoes, so I’m not worried about these beauties.)



Decide I might as well plant another row of peas while I’m out here. First row planted coming along nicely (as, apparently, are beets, squash, courgette and strawberries). Hurrah for Krys and Glenn and raised bed and top soil!

Even though there’s been more than enough rain recently (really, more than enough), figure I should give cherry tomatoes a good soak. While I’m at it, might as well do the rest of the garden.

Oh, my god, what’s this I see?



The new blueberry plant – bought to replace the one that died over winter – which was bursting with fruit last week, is obviously on its last legs.

NOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Nothing is supposed to die this year. NOTHING. This is supposed to be THE year. How can this be? Didn’t they like one another? Did they have a fight? Is the one on the right a notorious predator?

Check labels. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Both bushes are Blue Ray, so no cross-pollination. (What an idiot. Why didn’t I check this before?) But is this really enough to lead to such immediate fratricide? Or, perhaps more appropriately, sororicide? Sadly, I hope so, as the only other answer to the mystery is that I am some sort of homicidal (botanicidal?) maniac gardener and that solution simply will not do.

Perhaps a gin and tonic in the anti-gravity chair to recover?