Once upon a time

A couple of months ago I finally felt up to the task of going through the boxes of photos and memorabilia I’d left in the closet after Mike’s sudden death. In amongst the holiday snaps and opera programmes and baseball tickets I found one envelope which contained some photos of the house on the day we first came to see it and in the early months of our occupancy.

I thought those who’ve only been here in recent years (and those who’ve never been), might be interested in seeing the transformation since 1996. And now, thanks to Darryl very kindly scanning the photos for me, you can.

November 1995: We arrive with our estate agent (and friend) Patrick and his partner Jill to have our first look at 460 Spruce Avenue.

We enter through what will eventually become the kitchen, but on first sight is a utility room, with lovely fake wood panelling. (This photo was taken after we moved in, got rid of the ramshackle shelving and put in a table and chairs.)

More lovely fake wood panelling in what should obviously be the livingroom (it’s where the woodstove is, isn’t it?), but is being used as the diningroom. (The “kitchen”, such as it is, is in an alcove off this room.)

The big front room, with wonderful picture windows on three sides is being used as the livingroom. This room and the semi-finished basement underneath it (see below) have been added on to the small cottage at some point.

What we fail to notice on our first or second visit is the lack of a single electrical outlet in either of the extension rooms.

And this tiny room, purporting to be the bedroom, seems as it if might be the deal breaker. By the time you put a double bed in here, there wouldn’t be room to swing a cat – and we have two. (Not that either of them particularly enjoys being swung around rooms.)

But then I say to myself (and Mike): “Wait a minute, this house is backwards. The big front room, with all the windows, is where the bedroom should be, so you can wake up in the morning and see all the trees.” (At this point I actually lay down on the carpet in the front room to illustrate my point.) The livingroom should indeed be where the woodstove is, the kitchen should be where the utility room is and the diningroom should be where the so-called bedroom is.

And, as for the basement, it should one day be the study and spare room, complete with its own bathroom.

Speaking of bathrooms…

Just kidding. Although I don’t have a picture of it, there was actually a bathroom (same dark fake wood panelling as the middle room – and lovely orange carpeting), but the outhouse – until it was felled by a tree knocked over by a wind storm – did come in handy during winter power failures when the pump wasn’t working and the indoor toilet couldn’t be flushed.

After longer than expected negotiations with the owners, we finally moved in with same spare furniture in February 1996.

That was the weekend we first discovered the lack of plugs in the front room, making it necessary to make the acquaintance of an electrician as soon as possible. It was also the weekend when we finally registered that the middle room didn’t actually have a window in it.

Several weekends later it did (see new window on left), thanks to Tom, the wonderful handyman we discovered, who played a pivotal role in all future fixes.

Another thing we didn’t have was a woodshed.

So, in the summer, Tom and I built one. (Yes, that really is me on the roof.)

And then we were ready for the following winter.

The kitchen gets moved. Skylights are installed in most rooms. Painting over the fake wood panelling helps, but several years go by before we can renegotiate a bit extra on the mortgage to start the dream renovations.

The wall between the kitchen and spare bedroom comes down.

Work begins in earnest on the basement conversion (although Tom and I have long since built and insulated a downstairs bathroom/laundry room in one corner).

And, as for how it looks today (and with thanks again to Irmani for her help with the down with brown project), click here. .

Live and let die

I’m sure everyone’s been waiting breathlessly for my garden guru cousin’s verdict on my broccoli disaster. Well, here it is.

“I could do my doctorate on brassica problems.

“First thing, the plants look like calabrese, wrongly called broccoli throughout the restaurant and supermarket trades but not (yet) in the UK misnamed on the seed packets. Calabrese is an annual summer-maturing crop usually a foot or so tall with a single head like a small cauliflower and, when well-grown in the garden, one of the most delicious vegetables.

“Broccoli (sprouting broccoli) is a biannual, sown in spring, growing maybe a yard tall and producing many purple or white shoots or spears the following late winter or spring, depending on variety. It needs much more space, a couple of feet or more.

“Calabrese needs rich soil, full sun, plenty of moisture (which yours apparently had), no cold snaps (not even an unseasonably chilly hour overnight) and no competition from nearby plants – it looks from your pic as if large plants nearby could have spread their roots into the calabrese bed. The lack of any one of those could cause premature flowering called bolting. The reason is that the plant feels threatened so it immediately tries to reproduce itself by flowering in order to set seed. Other causes can be damage to the roots from a disease such as club root (the roots swell and start to crumble) or pests such as cabbage root fly, which lays its eggs at the roots - small white grubs hatch and eat the root. It's a wonder any brassicas ever get grown.

“All is not lost. You could still stir-fry the calabrese stems.”

I have now thanked him for these helpful hints (meanwhile giving up on ever trying to grow broccoli or calabrese again). In return, I shared with him this no doubt apocryphal tale.

In the late 19th century two Italian brothers emigrated from Calabria to New York. All they knew from their homeland was farming and that was the occupation they took up on Long Island. Amongst the vegetables they grew, sold in (and in this case introduced to) NYC was calabrese. Somehow this vegetable became known not by its Italian name, but by the name of the brothers who introduced it: Broccoli.

I can only assume the influence of Italian immigrant farmers spread throughout the US and Canada. Thus we have zucchini instead of courgettes (except, possibly in Quebec), cilantro instead of coriander and arugula instead of rocket - to name but a few.

PS: The grandson of one of those immigrant farmers, Albert (Cubby) Broccoli, turned out to also be quite a propagator. The James Bond franchise which he germinated 50 years ago is still going strong.

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.