Long time, no see

Yes, yes, yes. I know. It’s been a ridiculous amount of time since the last garden update. What can I tell you? I was busy rehearsing and portraying the poisonous Miss Prothero. Then I was busy rehearsing and portraying mischievous Maria in Twelfth Night. Then I got distracted by the gong show in Cleveland. And, yes, truth be told, I’ve also had a bit of a case of what my friend Krys and I used to call the “I can’t be bothereds”. So, here I am, hopefully better late than never, trying to catch up.

For those of you who aren’t on Gabriola, the first thing to report is that, after three long, hot summers, normal weather service seems to have resumed. The return of Juneuary was a bit of a shock. (Actually broke down one evening quite late in June and lit the fire.)  Early July brought its own surprises, including two thunder storms (rare in this neck of the woods.) Good for water levels in the well.

Not so good for tomatoes. After three summers of having more cherry tomatoes than I knew what to do with, this year’s crop qualifies as slim pickings.

This is what I brought up from the garden this morning. May look like a fair few tomatoes, but I’m honestly not sure how many more I will see. Ditto the peas.

Something that is new this summer are the pink gooseberries (the things that look like grapes). Although the gooseberry bush has previously borne some fruit, this is the first year the berries have ripened enough to eat.

Ditto the black currants I picked last month. And in the next couple of weeks I will also be harvesting some blueberries. In all previous summers since the garden project began and the fruit bushes were planted the berries all disappeared just as they were getting ripe.

Thank you, Cec Ashley, for the fruit frames!

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.

A berry busy day

It’s transplant day and Stella is as keen as I am to get working in the garden today.

Krys’s visit last month inspired a trip to Wheelbarrow and the purchase of the California lilac (finally planted yesterday) and another dwarf blueberry bush (planted the day after purchase beside a previously transplanted cousin.

Three weeks later, I’m pleased to see that the transplanted bush now has almost as many leafs as the new one.

While she was here, I started transplanting, shifting into better soil (and light) two black currants, the gooseberry bush and the two taller blueberry plants. All of which appear to be doing well.

Today it’s time to dig out my first lame effort at a raised bed, fill it with sea soil and shift the raspberries.

A sunnier spot, better soil… Who knows how many berries I’ll get this summer? More I hope than last year when the frigging fauna fought me for the flora. First there was the Bambo invasion, then, when the berries were ripening nicely, it was

Although I’ve never had to do so in the past, clearly this year I’m going to need some netting.

As I am thinking this, Jamie and his son Andrew appear, hauling the rubbish and green bins to the end of Jamie’s long drive. When I mention netting, Jamie warns me that I need to ensure I have the right mesh. If the holes are too big, the birds get in anyway, trap themselves and do nothing except eat berries until you set them free. Good point. He tells me his broad beans have already sprouted and I poke my tongue at him. All very well for those with sheltered, south facing gardens. Grr.

Elsewhere, in non-berry related news, the pear tree seems to have bounced back from its Bambo munching.

Difficult, I know, to tell from the photo, but a new, very robust shoot has grown up from the roots. No idea which of the four grafted pear varieties it will turn out to be.

When Krys and I went to Wheelbarrow last month, I mentioned my concern that the grafted apple tree was showing no sign of producing any leafs (unlike the pear, which was already doing well). The owner and I went to look at some of the ones for sale in the back and I was relieved to see none were doing any better than mine.

Happily it is now turning green. (Again, I realise, difficult to tell from the photo, so you’ll have to trust me.) It will be interesting to see, after one apple the first summer and eight the second, how many apples I will see this year.

Day One: Dirty work

Okay, I’ll admit it.

After the triumph of my directorial debut with Inherit the Wind , I did waste some valuable gardening time sitting around resting on my arse (sorry, I meant laurels), but I knew I would be galvanised by the arrival of my friend Krys. And I was.

The day after she got here we hit the garden shops. There are two on Gabriola and I won’t name names. Suffice to say that two out of three of the last blueberry bushes I’ve bought at one have died. So, I figured I should go to the other to buy another one to cross pollinate with the survivor. But I couldn’t remember whether the other one sold seeds, so we went to the doomed plant shop first to stock up on seeds: beets, carrots, peas, scaloppini and acorn squash (hoping that these varieties, being smaller than butternut, might actually produce before the first frost killed them), lettuce and arugula (rocket). I haven’t attempted to grow rocket since the first summer’s disaster, but raised beds have raised expectations.

Then it’s off to the other garden shop to get a replacement blueberry bush, some topsoil and some compost. It is, for want of a better word, an entertaining experience. It’s a busy Saturday afternoon and a photo of the only woman working could be used as a perfect illustration of the word harried. Technology is conspiring against her. Every time she tries to take a debit or credit card payment, the machine is knocked out of action by an incoming phone call or fax (all running on the same phone line). When the payment machine is actually working, the customers whose orders are half rung in suddenly decides there is something else they must pick up, but apparently cancelling a transaction is too great a technological challenge, so we all wait patiently as petunias or pansies are fetched. I can’t help imagining the reaction of customers at a garden shop in the city. On Gabriola we just smile and shrug. We’re on island time.

When we eventually get back to the house, I suddenly realise that the badly-home-built bookcase, inherited with the purchase of the house, now surplus to requirements and leaning against the woodshed, could, in fact, serve as another raised bed. I am so inspired I immediately go out to the garden with a shovel and start digging a hole. I stop digging when it starts to rain, but not before discovering that the small piece of landscaping fabric left over from the large raised bed fits perfectly!

Back out to the garden the next morning to finish digging the hole for the new raised bed.

When it turns out the largest opening from the old bookcase requires an entire bag of top soil to fill it, I realise that I didn’t buy enough. Bugger.

So, back to the garden shop we go to buy more topsoil and some flowers for the window box.

The new raised bed is filled with soil and compost. (Oh, and aren't the stargazer lilies coming back nicely?)

Not one, but two new blueberry bushes are planted. Although it is impossible to see in this photo, there are lots of flowers with the potential to produce lots of blueberries (assuming the bloody birds don’t get them first).

Potted pink gooseberry transplanted in with some raspberries.

And now I do believe it’s time for a glass of prosecco with Krys.