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.

Going to pot

Seeing as I had to go to GIRO today anyway, seemed like a good time to pop into the garden shop for some seeds.

We’ll get to the sweet peas in a minute, but first, please note that I am going to try growing some catnip just to see how mad the cats go. And note also what the wildflowers packet says: Bee blend. I cannot wait to find out what these will be.

While I’m there I decide to pick up a sage plant for the herb garden (in case Krys ever needs it for stuffing). Oh, and what’s this, sitting by the cash register where I can’t miss it? A bag of purple dahlias. Well, I think I’m going to have to get these too. The manager recommends potting them at this point, rather than planting them in the ground. No problem. If there’s one thing I’ve got, it’s plenty of pots.

Back home for an al fresco lunch and then down to the garden.

First I dig along between the new bed and the fence, mix some sea soil in and plant the sweet peas. If all goes according to plan they will grow up the fence and will look – and smell – amazing.

Then I pull out my empty pots and start potting the dahlias. When I tip the peat out of the last bag, this appears.

This thing bears absolutely no resemblance to a dahlia tuber. What the hell could it be? (If you have any idea, please let me know.) Well, waste not, want not. That’s what I say. And, I admit, I’m wildly curious.

So, in a pot it goes and time alone will tell what it might be. (Rest assured there will be progress reports.)

The actual dahlias are potted and now line up nicely between the raspberry bed and the fence. I think I might just leave them that way. 

After all, as I’m sure you recall, the Star Gazer lilies (old photo) stay in their pots year round and flower beautifully every summer. Why not the dahlias?

Short break for a fag and a cuppa, while I consider what to do about the unsightly former raspberry bed. I know Cec will get to me eventually, but meanwhile it’s a bit of an eyesore. What to do until there’s a raised bed?

Wait a minute! I know exactly what to do! Scattered around the garden there are pots of fuchsias, dwarf roses and bulbs.

I’ll move them all to one place. Much better. A pot for everything and every pot in its (however temporary) place.

Time for a gin and tonic.

PS: Speaking of pot, a headline in the Globe and Mail caught my eye today: “Tories sweeten pot for seniors”. As someone who is now in the sooner rather than way later countdown to retirement (how the hell did that happen?), I was momentarily thrilled at the idea of CRAP trying to bribe seniors with hash brownies. Alas, the headline actually referred to changes in the laws about when you can and can’t cash in RRSPs (ISAs, for UK folk). As if I’ll have any to worry about. I’d far rather have the hash brownies. Although that’s probably more Justin Trudeau’s thing.

The bees' needs

If I have a gardening philosophy it’s this.

In the absence of any innate ability, I find a philosophy is useful.

Of course, the keeping calm part was a challenge last year, after this bastard got into and wreaked havoc in the garden.

Bee friendly, on the other hand, has remained my buzz phrase. Furthering that goal was job one this Easter weekend.

Thanks to Cec (who is now – hurrah! – staying on the island), I have another yard of sea soil, which I can put to good use.

We begin, not in the garden, but in the back forty (as if I have forty acres – ha!).

As you may (or may not) recall, back in 2012 I had some trees felled.

The rounds were duly chopped and have by now been burned over the intervening winters. The ground remained covered in branches. After two years I accepted that these would never biodegrade during my lifetime, so I hired someone to help me clear them. Then I set about “landscaping”.

Rocks, as you can see, are a big feature. With no fence (not that that stopped frigging Bambo last year), planting options were limited. Deer do not eat daffs, so lots of those went in the ground last autumn. (Is it just me or do I definitely need more pink flamingos back here?)

As a rule (which can be broken), deer do not eat heather or lavender, so I planted both. Bees are very partial to lavender.

I was delighted to discover that another plant deer generally leave alone is my old bee-friendly favourite, the Ceanothus. (Which, as I was informed today, is also known as a California lilac, a name I’ve decided I prefer.)  

So, job one today was digging a hole in the rock-encrusted so-called soil, filling it with sea soil and adding a new California lilac.

This is the third one I’ve planted out back. Eventually, I suspect, there will be more.

I dig landscaping

A rainy day keeps me indoors, offering a chance to do some much-needed housework and to catch up on the blog. Hmm. Which shall I do first? Three guesses.

Well, ladies (I say, suspecting this blog has no gentlemen admirers), it’s been a busy couple of weeks.

When last we met, I was digging a hole. Ya gotta love the diversity of Gabriola soil. It can grow pebbles, stones, rocks and boulders. Thus, as previously noted, when you say “digging a hole”, what you actually mean is excavating rocks and boulders.

These are the rocks from Day One. I quickly realised they need to be spread further around the garden.

Not only will this give you an idea of quite how many (although not all of the) rocks have been excavated. It’s also an amusing example of how unfamiliar I am with the video feature on my digital camera.

Then there was the question of what to do with all the sand surrounding the rocks and boulders. It will never support life, but it has to go somewhere. I know, I thought, I’ll shift it over to the front of the garden in an attempt to level it off a bit.

Stella is incredibly helpful. She quickly grasps the problem. No sooner have I dumped the first couple of wheelbarrows of crap soil to the other side of the garden, than she craps in it to start fertilising it for me.

Eventually I figure out the futility of what I’m attempting. By adding a row of bricks, I can actually create a tiered effect. And heaven knows I have a lot of surplus bricks.

I know I said no stinking boulder would defeat me.

But I have met my Waterloo (and I’m not Wellington). This hole is now as large as it’s going to get. The landscape fabric will simply have to be wrapped around this monster before the topsoil is added.

By this point I am on a digging/excavating frenzy. I need more space for bee-friendly plants. Where else can I start digging?

I don’t know how clear it is from this 2010 photo, but the rear section of the garden (like most of the bloody garden) is sloped. What I need is a large, even bed.

And look what I accomplish in just one day! The photo may not do it justice, but I now have a de-rocked and turned-over bed running most of the way along the rear section of the garden!

The next morning, Stella, by now so used to spending our days together in the garden, shoots down the path ahead of me and gets there first.

At some point I am actually going to have to buy things to put in the new bed and the big hole, but I just can’t stop digging/excavating. I’ve decided I want another fruit tree and the big hole doesn’t get enough light.

I start digging behind the ceanothus, quickly finding my way blocked by the roots of the giant cedar chopped down many, many years ago. Unlike rocks and (for the most part) boulders, there is nothing I can do about huge bloody roots. Start digging nearby. About six inches down I realise I’ve found another large boulder (although not in the Waterloo league). Spend most of the morning digging down and around it.

I finally get to the point that I can roll it around a bit, but I simply cannot lift it out of the hole.

Stella checks out the boulder, but has no practical suggestions to make.

I am not going to be defeated by this fucking boulder. I go into the house and ring my Phase Four neighbours Cec and Joyce Ashley.

Both these fine people were in Inherit the Wind. More importantly at the moment, Cec (back row, far left) is a carpenter and builder who may, somewhere in his well-endowed home workshop, have something to help me get this fucking boulder out of this bloody hole.

Cec arrives 15 minutes later with a pick axe and a shovel, neither of which are required.

Before I can say “Be careful!”, he simply lifts the boulder out of the hole. Blimey.

After this strongman feat, he and I sit down on the bench and chat for a while. At some point I admit that I had been planning to contact him anyway for another garden-related favour. Now that I’ve created a reasonably level bit of garden, I’d really like to put another raised bed in so I can transfer the strawberries which are overtaking the big raised bed. In my haphazard fashion, all I’m envisioning is four planks, which I figure Cec could screw together in 10 minutes.

“I could build you a raised bed,” Cec says. “No problem.” My hero.

The next morning he arrives with, not four planks, but actual proper raised bed materials.

An hour later I have a strawberry bed. Fuck me. Oh so easy when you know what you’re doing. (Before starting on the strawberry bed, Cec inspects the existing bed and pronounces himself well satisfied with Glenn’s levelling job.)

While he’s building the bed he tells me that you can get a yard of high quality top soil from Wheelbarrow for $88. Sounds impressive. I ask him how much that is. Eighty-eight dollars, he repeats. Suddenly we’re in Abbot and Costello territory. No, I clarify, what volume. Oh, says Cec, eight feet by five feet by two feet – and that will fit his trailer. He offers to take me down there to pick a load up next week. Well, that would be a lot cheaper than buying hundreds of bags at $6 per bag. I accept this very kind offer.

When he is leaving, I thank him profusely. “Any time,” he says. I laugh and tell him he’d better not say that or I might just take him up on it. As I said on Facebook yesterday, Cec Ashley totally rocks. (Or should that be boulders?)

Oh, look. It’s stopped raining and the sun’s come out. So much for the housework.