Cherry (tomato) picking

It’s the Victoria Day long weekend and everyone on Gabriola knows what that means.

But before we get to that, shall we take a minute to ask why Canada, in the 21^st century, has a public holiday honouring a 19^th century prudish, colonialist British monarch? No idea? No, neither do I.

A couple of years ago a group of Canadian notables petitioned the Harper government to change the name of the holiday to “Victoria and First Peoples Day”. I hated the name, although I applauded the sentiment. On reflection, I do like the name, marrying as it does the name of the woman in whose name treaties were made and broken with the people whose land was stolen and culture almost obliterated. Of course, this suggestion was never going to fly with bizarrely anglophile Harper. Perhaps it’s time to propose the idea of a name change to the new Prime Minister. (And if he disagrees, suggest taking it outside.) Failing that, how about making National Aboriginal Day – which is also happily the first day of summer – a national holiday and day of atonement?

Anyway, what the Victoria Day weekend means on Gabriola is the official opening of the farmers market at the Agi Hall. And this means the lovely lady whose name I can never remember (but I think might be Linda) will be there selling her wonderful tomato plants. Which means it’s time to get going on the cherry tomatoes!

The market is heaving when I arrive. I clock that the lovely lady is there, then have a quick wander around. The market operators have stated that this year there will be a lot more actual food, compared to the tables selling crystals, tie-dyed apparel and other hippie dippie extravagances. Hmm. There is definitely more produce than there has been in past years, but I think the volume of New Age product is still considerably higher. Unless the tie-dyed apparel is actually being grown in fields, it’s still not clear to me why this is called a farmers market.

Never mind. The artisans need somewhere to flog their wares. Makes no odds to me. The stall I want is there. I head back to it. When I arrive I overhear some terrible news: The lovely lady is moving to Nanaimo. This is going to be her first and last appearance of the year at the market. Thank goodness I came today.

I ask about cherry tomatoes and she points me towards the large selection of pots behind the stall. I go to investigate. My goodness. They’re huge! I’m almost certain her tomato plants aren’t usually this tall this early in the year.

Two years ago, after fucking Bambo got into the garden and ate the tops of all the profusely flowering red cherry tomato plants, I bought a couple of yellow cherry tomato plants (all she had left by then) from her. The plants turned out to be prolific and the tomatoes turned out to be delicious.

So delicious that last year I bought another yellow cherry tomato plant from her. Not quite as much success.

Whatever variety these fairly large tomatoes were, they were not yellow cherries. Still, not a complete loss. Not being a big fan of large tomatoes for eating, I did end up making my first ever batch of tomato sauce, which was very tasty.

Despite last year’s not yellow cherry tomato mix up, I decide to take a chance again and purchase one purportedly yellow tomato plant and two reds. Time will tell what I actually have in these pots. 

The other thing the Victoria Day weekend always brings is my holiday-home neighbours. Their “house” is actually a glorified shed, fractionally less than the ten foot square maximum after which new homes must pass a building inspection. Not a lot of space in which to spend a lot of time, ergo the picnic bench and outdoor furniture which would be very pleasant if it didn’t bucket down every time they come. Typically, their arrival on Thursday brought rain.

This afternoon, however, was merely overcast. Fine for planting and staking the tomato plants. Oh, and what’s this? After the plants are in their pots and have been watered, the sun actually comes out.

Clearly I need to go into the house, make a cup of tea and return to the garden with the paper, in order to spend some quality time on the garden swing with Stella.

After a few minutes I realise something may not be quite right. The buzzing from the California lilac does not seem anywhere near as loud as it did this time last year. Is it my imagination (oh, lord, I hope it is) or are there substantially fewer bees buzzing around the blossom?  

I come back into the house and check the “buzzing” blog entries from previous years. Both seem to be from early June. Perhaps the word hasn’t got out to the wider bee population yet. 

Oh, lord, I hope that’s what it is.

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.

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?

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.