It's all a bit sad

Wake up this morning to the surprising realisation that there is absolutely nothing I absolutely have to do today. No costume or music meetings for the panto (which I am once again directing). No Zumba class at 9am. (Yes, you read that right. I recently started going to Zumba classes twice a week, despite the fact that they start at the ridiculous hour of 9am.) No preparation for a rehearsal tonight. Nada. And the sun’s shining!

Perhaps it’s time to visit the garden.

I confess I have not spent much time down there since the well ran dry earlier this month. I simply cannot afford to be watering the garden with the water I had to buy to fill the cistern. Going down to the garden to watch things slowly die held no particular appeal.

I head down after breakfast. It’s all a bit sad.

It may look as if there are still quite a few leaves on the pear tree, but what you’re seeing is the bottom third. The top two thirds of the branches have only a couple of leaves between them all.

Not many leaves left on the apple tree. The little tree that gave me eight apples last year didn’t even blossom this spring (more than a little worrying). The pear produced lots of blossom, but no fruit. No idea if the rain which has started to fall and will hopefully continue to so over the winter will be enough to rally my fruit trees.

I don’t honestly remember if the leaves on the fig tree

or the lilac tree

were this yellow and ready to drop before the beginning of October last year. I have a feeling they weren’t.

Time to give up and pull up the courgette and squash. Not a great year for either.

The few cherry tomatoes left on the various plants are too small and too green to salvage for chutney, so I pull them out and leave their containers ready for next year.

On a brighter note, my fuchsia corner seems healthy and is still producing flowers. 

I take a tea break and hang out on the garden swing for a while with Stella (who’s very happy to have me back in the garden). Spend most of the time wondering what, if anything, I should be planting next year. We had a long, dry summer in 2014, but it was neither as long nor as dry as this summer. We really didn’t have much rain last winter (which probably explains the well running dry this year). I shall have to do some research before next spring, figure out which vegetables require the least water and (assuming I actually like any of them) think about planting different crops.

For now I think I’ll do something to cheer myself up. Dahlias definitely don’t need much water. Nor do the Star Gazer lilies. So, let’s get them out of their pots and into the ground.

A nice little new bed that will produce beautiful flowers for me to admire when I’m reading on the garden swing next summer. Not exactly edible, but you can’t have everything, right?

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.

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.