Raspberries for me, peas for Antler Boy

Well, there’s good news and bad news. Might as well get the bad news out of the way first.

Thanks to the 40 days and 40 nights of rain we had from May to the end of June (and where, one wonders, was Noah?), my brassicas took a beating.

My suspicion (awaiting confirmation from my garden guru cousin Peter) is that the cauliflower got so badly waterlogged that I will be hard pressed to get one cauliflower cheese out of the two of them put together.

The green cabbage still has a chance, I think, but the red cabbage is showing no inclination to do anything except sprout large outer (and no inner) leaves. I ha’e me doots about the Savoy cabbage, but I’m keeping my fingers crossed.

And then there’s the mystery of the broccoli. Before the sun finally came out, the heads (or whatever they’re called) weren’t worth harvesting. Then, what seemed like a day and a half later they’d gone completely to flower. What the fuck? (Another question sent off to Peter: Despite the addition of manure and lime, is it still my soil?)

So, now some good news.

The cherry tomatoes and red peppers, which I thought were going to rot in the rain, have stage a comeback. Amazing what sunlight can do.

Definitely tomatoes coming along.

And definitely some red peppers. (We have, however, been here before with the red peppers, so least said, soonest forgotten.)

Look closely and you will see (I swear) peas coming along nicely. Podding peas. Yum. (One for the pot, two for me was the ratio when I was a kid and I see no reason to change it.)

And look!

Yes, lettuce growing in the sun. Have had my very first salad with my very own lettuce. (Yeah, yeah, okay, so I didn’t grow them from seed. I tried, didn’t I?)

On the fruit front… (Yes, yes, I know tomatoes and peppers are fruit, but you also know what I mean, so shut up.)

There will soon be lots of luscious blueberries. Unlike last year, when the birds got most of them, I actually got around to putting some netting up. Live and learn.

And check out these raspberries!

As I’m picking today’s raspberries, I happen to glance across the road.

Uh, oh. Pat left his gate open when he went out and Antler Boy is having some peas for lunch. I walk across the road and yell at him.

Ever seen an animal whose expression more clearly says, “Who me?” I’m half way up the driveway before he finally bounces away.

Raspberries with lunch. Yum! And, no, you’re not mistaken. That is indeed a solitary strawberry in with the raspberries. Turns out the birds also like strawberries. Shame I didn’t put any netting up around them. Oh, well. Next year.

Bearing fruit

The bad news is that it’s been raining quite a bit during the past week, including a mini-break taken to Tofino with Irmani. As a result, much planned hiking was put on hold and had to be replaced with cocktail consumption. Unfortunate, I know, but it had to be done. Irmani may not have discovered much in the way of regionally unique flora and fauna, but she did discover Bloody Caesars – and has taken to them like a duck to water.



Fortunately, it wasn’t pouring with rain on the afternoon we booked our bear watching trip. Hurrah!

The good news is that all that rain seems to have been quite beneficial for the garden.



Look at the lettuce! Oh, all right, all right: The lettuce seeds failed completely to transform themselves into actual lettuce, so I broke down and bought some plants. But they were tiny, pathetic looking things before we went away and now I really can look forward to producing my own salad this summer. (The rocket, I’m sorry to say, did not do as instructed and sprout in small pots for transplanting. I have, therefore, tossed all the remaining seeds into the soil and must now simply hope for the best.)



Trip to the garden store before Irmani and I left for Tofino. The cherry tomatoes (already flowering) have now been planted and – in a triumph of hope over experience – so have more red peppers. The first year of the Gabriola garden project produced one solitary (though nonetheless tasty) red pepper. The second year, all four plants I bought died before producing any fruit. But this, of course, is the year. The soil has been enriched with compost, manure and lime. Nothing can go wrong. (Oh, ha, ha – see lettuce and rocket update.)



Check out the Brassica bed! Although they still have a long way to go, the Savoy cabbages already look like Savoy cabbages. I’m definitely getting some food out of this lot.



Moving right along, it took them a while to sprout, but it now seems as if I will actually get some peas this year. Last year the garden managed to produce one (yes, one) pod in total.

And then there is the berry segment of the programme…



If the birds don’t get them first, there will be lots of blueberries.



Still can’t believe last year’s strawberry plants are fruiting so well. In Walthamstow, Ben and I had to buy new strawberry plants every year.

Not bad, not bad at all.

Brown is down

Some non-garden news for Irmani, Krys, Becky, Catherine and other followers of the Down with Brown project. I’m pleased to announce that Brown Is Down.

I did consider trying to paint these beams myself, but, what with the odds of falling and breaking my neck and the inability of either of the cats to ring for an ambulance, eventually decided it would be safer to get some painters in – even though I couldn’t really afford it. Worth every penny. (The sad thing is, if Mike was still around, like me, he would love it.)

Speaking of things I (really) can’t afford, I’ve also broken down and ordered a new sofa to replace the green monster. Had to be done. Unfortunately, Irmani won’t get to see it when she visits, as it won’t be delivered until mid-June. Photo will follow.

Now all I have to do is figure out how to get rid of green monstrosity without having to pay someone to take it to the dump in Nanaimo.

PS Still no sign of my lettuce. Humph.

Seeding doubt

Okay, I’m a patient woman (yes, yes, ha bloody ha), but where are my lettuce? The seeds went in at least a fortnight ago and nary a lettuce in sight.

Where are my peas?

If you look really, really closely (does a magnifying glass work on a computer screen?) you might spot a few popping up. Of course, I’d completely forgotten – until Pat reminded me last weekend - that you’re supposed to soak them overnight before you plant the seeds. Oops. Soaked seeds went in yesterday which will probably soon overtake the others.

Is this rocket sprouting?

Between the photo being out of focus and the sprouting greenery being so very much smaller than the pine needles, rather hard to tell. Fingers crossed.

Humph. This growing food from seed lark does take a while, doesn’t it?

If all else fails (and, of course, this year nothing will fail) I can rely on a crop of cherry tomatoes.

Too early, of course, to plant the tomatoes, but at least the bed is ready.

A day on my knees weeding the bed with the never-yet-shown-any-inclination-to-actually-flower lilac tree and the rose bushes. The soil may be crap, but, my, oh, my, the weeds certainly thrive. Once all the weeds are gone I look at it and suddenly remember my original plan, all those years ago when I first fenced off this sunny corner. This area was going to have lots of roses. I’ve planted two bushes since I’ve been back (and nurtured the one which somehow survived). Time to get some more.

Manure dug in. Lime added. And two new rose bushes – a deep red and a pale pink. What’s that you say? Looks like there’s plenty of room for at least a couple more? How right you are.

More floral plans afoot.

This by way of a before picture. Nasturtium seeds planted in the beds surrounding the ceanothus and the camellia. Please note that nasturtium petals are edible in salads, so this also qualifies as food production. (And the packet says nasturtiums will thrive no matter how crap the soil is. Bonus.)

Elsewhere on the property…

The deer are taking a break from eating all my herbs. Apparently the branches of the freshly felled trees are tastier. (In addition to providing firewood next winter, the tree felling will provide more light at the back of the house – enough, one hopes, for clothes to actually dry on the line.)

La dame aux camelias

Another afternoon in the garden. I’m dive-bombed by the first hummingbird I’ve seen this year and also spot my first butterflies. Spring is indeed sprung.

So, the vegetables are sorted (ha, ha), but what about flowers?

At the garden shop I take a gamble. This flowerbed has never been wildly successful before, but with some lime and some manure, can it support a camellia? Will it at least live long enough for the other eight buds already visible to open up? I can but cross my fingers and hope.

Wouldn’t it be lovely, I also think, to get some wisteria growing along the fence? Yes, I decide, yes it would.

So, in addition to the Stargazer lily bulbs I buy and plant in pots, I also plant a young wisteria (behind). Pat has these lilies growing in pots on his deck. Not only are they as lovely as the illustration suggests, but they have the most heavenly aroma. And now I shall have my own.

Suspect it will be a while (decades?) before my wisteria coverage will be in competition with Becky’s dream home.

I don’t really mind, because it’s still only April and look!

How beautiful is this looking? Seriously. I am gobsmacked. (As will Pat be when he gets back this week from his snowbird holiday with his Alberta lady friend.)

Oh, and PS: This one specifically for Irmani.

Lots of new growth on the fuchsia. Hope it’s flowering when you get here next month. Can’t wait!

Ton of bricks

The dastardly fucking deer have now gone for the mint. Really? Bastards.

So, a trip to the garden shop to buy a replacement mint, which I plant down in the garden – definitely not as convenient as just outside the kitchen door.

Dedicated followers of this hapless horticulturist blog may remember when I first started the herb garden by the kitchen.

The project involved the dismantling of a brick “feature” created by one of the many idiotic workmen Mike once employed.

Two years later I’ve finally figured out some use for all the bloody bricks (other than the ones Darryl and I used to weigh down the tarp on top of the leaking woodshed).

Look, an actual vegetable plot.

The stick marks where I’ve planted the first of the lettuce seeds. Wild rocket (arugula here – why?) seeds are germinating. The last time I tried to grow rocket from seed it committed suicide. But not this time, oh, no. This time I haven’t just hoped I had soil in my garden capable of nurturing life. This time I’ve dug in manure and lime. This time the rocket (and lettuce) will thrive. Not only that, but the wild rocket is a perennial. I will have rocket for salads every year for the rest of my life. (Short break while I cross my fingers.)

And look, another bed!

Oh, my god, how good is this well manured and limed soil? It’s a miracle.

Oh, okay, I bought and transplanted broccoli, cauliflower and cabbages. Yes, I cheated, but after the disappointments of 2010, I need some guaranteed results.

The purists can scoff. Someday I may, too – but that will be after I figure out how I can afford and where the hell I can put a greenhouse.

Vodka and tonic, I think

Another day begins with noticing the absence of something. Bastard Bambis have chomped the tops off all my tulips and two of my hyacinths. Again I ask: What the fuck? I’ve grown bulbs in pots by the back door before and never had a problem. Bastards. (I think I may have said this already.)


Fortunately, the other pot – the one in the fenced-in garden has survived.


Well, now that I’m down here – and seeing as it’s stopped raining and is actually a lovely day – I might as well do something.


Yeah, okay, doesn’t look like much, but the first batch of peas have now been planted – both shelling peas and mangetout (which, I learn after baffling the man in the garden shop, are, for reasons I cannot fathom, called snow peas here). Fingers crossed.

Oh, look. The fig tree does appear to be staging a comeback.


Decide it will probably do better if I transplant it into a pot which isn’t as thin and cheap as the one I originally used. (According to the instructions which came with it when Irmani and I bought it last year, fig trees are more successfully grown in pots. We shall see. I’m thinking figs this year are unlikely.

Take a break for a cup of tea and a biscuit. Is that enough for today? Oh, sod it. Go to the shed and get the shovel.


Some hours (and much dirt in my fingernails and on the knees of my jeans) later, I’ve weeded and dug over the second bed.

I need more manure and (oops, nearly forgot) some lime. If the forecast is correct (oh, ha, ha), it’s going to be a warm sunny weekend. Just the right weather for preparing the soil.

Back in the house, two questions remain to be answered.

Is my ass going to be as sore tomorrow as it was last time? God, I hope not.

Shall I have another cup of tea? Nah. Vodka and tonic, I think.

Are you deaf?

Sunday morning, still riding high from three sold out performances of The Death of Me.

Take my cappuccino outside to have a fag and check on the progress of the fuchsia Irmani bought for me last year. Yes, lots of new shoots coming along, so, unlike the one I bought for the garden, this one is going to come back beautifully.

As I turn back towards the door something (or rather the lack of something) catches my eye.


Difficult to tell from the picture, I know, but the two pots of chives, which were coming back nicely, have been nibbled down to the soil, as has the returning parsley. What the fuck? I’ve had herbs growing in pots by the back door for two years and the deer – who are not supposed to like herbs – have never touched them. Bambi bastards.

So, a trip to the garden shop to buy replacement chives and parsley. Clearly these can no longer be safely planted so close to the house.

Down to the garden, where I weed and add manure to one of the raised bed sections. (Yes, cherry tomatoes have successfully grown in this soil for the past two summers, but, as previously noted, they will grow anywhere. Nothing else I’ve ever planted in these beds has survived, so let’s hope the manure does the job.)

As I am completing this task, two women, out for a walk, stop to say hello, as you do on Gabriola. After commenting on the beautiful colour of the blue hyacinths, one of the women points at me and asks, “Are you deaf?”

Not at all sure what I’ve said which could have prompted this, I say (rather appropriately) “Pardon?”

She nudges her friend, looks at me, says, “You are, aren’t you? From the play?”

Ah, I’ve misheard her. Death, not deaf. Yes, I admit, I am the Angel of Death.


They tell me they loved the play, thought I was fabulous.

My soil may be crap, the deer may be chomping my chives, but apparently I’m a star. Not a bad day.

This will be the year

Yeah, yeah, you’ve all heard it before, but seriously, this will be the year.

When I came back in 2010, it was the end of June before it stopped raining and I could get started. Far too late. (Nor did I appreciate how totally crap the soil in the vegetable plot was until my garden guru cousin Peter wrote to inform me that the rocket was flowering before the leaves were large enough to eat because it was starved of nutrients and was desperately trying to reproduce before it perished.)

And last year, after Mike died, well, my heart just wasn’t in it. No surprise there.

Thanks to Krys and Becky, the vegetable plot did get dug over (compost added), but, to be honest, without Mike around, I was hard pressed to think of any vegetable I liked enough to make it worth growing.

Berries, I thought. I like berries. So, blueberry and raspberry bushes (and a black currant) were purchased and planted in the plot. Truth be told, I didn’t get all that many blueberries.

The raspberries were also very disappointing – until I discovered that four out of five of the bushes I’d bought were actually the late fruiting variety. Lots of raspberries in October. How odd.

I did get lots of cherry tomatoes in and they were yummy, but no great horticultural breakthrough, given that they will grow absolutely anywhere.

And so to 2012

Easter Monday. It’s a lovely day and I’m thinking of going for a walk. But, no, I decide. Let’s get into the garden.


The hyacinths I planted last autumn are looking pretty, but I’m not sure the fuchsia is going to stage a comeback.

First things first. I spend some time raking up twigs and thousands of pine cones.

Now I want to move the fruit bushes to side beds. This requires digging and weeding said beds. My neighbours Sally and Jamie, out for a walk, stop to chat, comment on what good quality the side bed soil appears to be. I cannot help but agree with them. Is this where the decent soil in my garden has been hiding? How annoying would that be?


I transfer the blueberry bushes. Difficult to tell from the photo, I know, but there is already a great deal of growth on them. Lots of blueberries this year? One can but hope.


I transfer the raspberries, including a few, small new ones. The roots of these appear to be connected to the larger plants, so not something appearing from the seeds of fallen fruit. Who knew raspberries did this? (Lots of people I’m sure, but until this moment, not me.)


Last year’s strawberries seem to be coming back nicely. Not sure how well the fig tree in the back pot is doing.

Go inside, make myself a cup of tea, come back to sit and admire my morning’s work. I really should stop now, but…


Maybe just dig over part of the vegetable plot? Yes, why not? I’ve actually bought some manure and a bit of topsoil, which I add. This really is going to be the year.

Next day

Oh, my god, how much do I ache? And why the hell is my ass so sore? Surely it’s all fat? Where are the muscles hiding?


Take my cappuccino down to the garden. Okay, the sore ass is worth it. Look at the garden! What a great start.

Becky finds her dream home

Yes, yes, I know. I got everyone all excited about the blog starting up again and then dropped you all. Not my fault.

First I had a piece of work land in my lap which has a very tight deadline, necessitating 10+ hours a day at the computer, a sore neck, sore shoulders and, eventually, the need to forage in the freezer for some of Mike’s old supply of ready meals.

Then my friend Becky visited, so, again, not much time for updating blogs.

A lot has been going on in the garden and I promise I will get to this soon, but today’s entry is for Becky, who may be joining me permanently on Gabriola, now that she’s found her dream home. (If she’s decided, now that she’s back in Leyton, that she really can’t live without opera, theatre, art galleries, electricity, running water and all the other excitement of London, I’ll have to let Rowan know before someone else snaps it up.

It was the wisteria that prompted us to stop and get out of the car for a look.



Not only is it for sale, but you don’t even have to arrange a viewing.

Bit difficult to get in through the front door.



So we went round the back.



We were immediately struck by all the indoor plants.



There’s a lovely fitted kitchen.



Unfortunately the bathroom has neither hot nor cold running water at the moment.



But, in the livingroom, there is a lovely tile surround for a wood stove.



A few problems with the bedroom floor, as Becky discovered when she fell through it. Fortunately no permanent damage – to her.




The garden, it must be said, could do with a bit of work.



The television reception’s probably a bit dodgy.



But that’s okay, because I think she’s going to be too busy to watch telly.

Garden news anon. I promise.