Compare and contrast

It’s almost exactly three years now since I returned to Gabriola, determined, amongst other things, to reclaim my once-upon-a-time garden, which had, in my absence, been reduced to this.

And now it looks like this.

Even if the scorecard on vegetable growing has been bloody awful (and that is going to change this year), you have to admit the transformation is pretty bloody amazing.

Anyway. A weekend in Vancouver last weekend which included a WISE women meet up and trips to various garden shops. I have a shopping list of things I cannot get on the island: more stargazer lily bulbs, some (affordable) ceramic pots, a cushioned cover for the plastic mesh fold up chair (now that the herb garden has been moved, I actually have somewhere level where I could sit and read near the house) and… some pink flamingos! (Yes, yes, I know: kitsch beyond words, but come on. Also totally fab.)

Discover at Home Hardware that chaise lounge cushion covers are (a) fairly hideous and (b) cost more than I thought they possibly could. Decide to see if they’re cheaper/less hideous elsewhere. As we’re leaving, Catherine spots a couple trying out an on-sale zero gravity chair. (Don’t ask me why they’re called that.) She thinks Bob might like one, tries it out, decides, yes, she should get one. The chair looks pretty nifty to me. I ask her if she’s sure she only wants to get one. (I see some arguments over who gets to sit in the chair in their camping future.) She realised that, of course, she needs two. Salesperson offers to fetch a dolly to transport chairs to car. While we’re waiting, I look at chair again. Wait a minute, I think, this chair is the same price on-sale as one of the hideous cushion covers. I try out chair. Oh, my god, it really is comfortable. Why am I buying a cushion cover for a crap chaise lounge when I could, for the same price, get this great garden chair?

Total no brainer.

So, yes, I get the chair and the ceramic pots and the pink flamingos.

Oh, and some more stargazer lily bulbs to plant in the other ceramic pots.

And, while I’m at it, decide to get a clematis to replace the wisteria, killed last year by my crap soil. No crap soil for this baby. Replant it in nice, big pot near the fence where it will eventually spread, looking bootiful.

While I’m in Vancouver, two of the butternut squash seedlings have sprouted enough for me to realise the mystery seedling planted by Krys bears a passing resemblance and could indeed by a successfully sprouted courgette.

Plant all three out. Actual vegetables growing (along with the already planted out beets and the well sprouted peas) in my raised bed! Okay, it isn’t the first time vegetables have looked as if they were growing in my garden, only to flower and perish, but this is the all new raised bed with the quality soil. This is going to be different.

Think it might be time to go sit in my chair.

Oh, ha, ha

Have only just noticed a comment left by Jane after the first post this year: "We have one of those grafted apple trees. It's been, like, eight years? Nine? and it's produced in all a handful of one kind of apple. Almost all of which have been eaten by squirrels JUST before we were ready to pick them. So... good luck..." (Sorry, Jane.)

Okay, I can now treat apple blossom as a present for the bees and stop worrying about the law of gravity. (Inertia always suited me better anyway.)

Law of physics?

Okay, I barely managed a passing grade in physics when I was in school. (The only thing I still remember, perhaps appropriately, is the law of inertia.) So I may have this wrong. Maybe it is actually possible for this thin little twig of a branch to support six apples. Then again, maybe not. Apparently there is no reason for concern. When I pose the question to Krys, she informs me: “Don't worry, most of the apples will fall off while still quite small and some of the blooms won't necessarily produce fruit.” Oh, good. (Or do I mean bad?) Hopefully the poor old bees will get a bit of a buzz out of the blossom. Suddenly find myself wondering what Isaac Newton would have to say about this.

Anyway, no sooner is this mystery semi-solved than another crops up.



Watering the garden, I see that it’s (nearly?) time to transplant some of the beets Krys potted. Excellent.



But what the hell is this? One of Krys’s other seed pots appears to be sprouting. (Unless it’s a weed, of course.) Unfortunately I’m having a hard time remembering what else she planted. Courgettes? Could this be a courgette? I’m pretty sure it’s unlikely to turn into mixed salad greens. Oh, well. Time will tell.



Elsewhere, strawberries are coming along nicely. And the first sign of peas are beginning to pop up through the ground. Excellent.



The garden shop has finally sounded the all clear on planting basil outside. As anyone who’s ever had a herb garden knows, for some reason slugs seem to prize basil above all other food. Last summer I finally came up with a solution to the problem. Try crawling down that wire to get to the basil, you slimy bastards. You can’t, can you? Ha!



Now, as long as that other, quite a bit larger pest stays away from the herbs, I’ll be happy. Yes, that’s right, Bambi. Lots of lovely undergrowth to chow down on. Please stick with that and everything will be fine.

PS

As Krys can attest, it’s not easy to score decent planters at the recycling depot on this gardening-mad island. Unless you happen to be leaving just as someone else is arriving with planters to donate and you can get to them first. Major score yesterday: two more window boxes and several decent pots. Now all I have to do is figure out what to put in them.

Blooming marvellous

While I was in the UK, Krys decided it would be a good idea to put up a hanging bracket for another flowering basket. And I have to say I think this is a good idea – not least because flowers hanging in baskets are less likely to get eaten by the bloody deer. Such a good idea, in fact, that I decide to add another and shift the one she’s put up so they can actually be seen from inside the house.



As Irmani’s fuchsia isn’t looking likely to flower any time soon (although it does seem to have survived its fall), decide the new basket should be more dark eyes fuchsias.



Krys also suggested a window box under the diningroom window. Again, excellent idea – although one can but hope the bloody deer will leave it alone.

Meanwhile, back in the garden…



I know I’ve already mentioned the apple blossom coming along, but today I do a count. There are at least 35 flowers, which one presumes means at least 35 apples. How on earth can this poor little tree, with its thin little branches support 35 apples?



Again, yes, already mentioned, but look at the lilac blossom! When Krys emailed me in the UK to say she thought the lilac was actually going to flower this year, I couldn’t believe it – but it’s true! (Claps hands together, bounces up and down. It's been a long time coming.}



And the first rosebud. Hurrah!

Playing gooseberry

After three days of sitting, hunched over the computer, creating and loading content to my very own website, how lovely to spend a lovely day yesterday in the garden.

I don’t think I’ve actually acknowledged this, so time to do so now: How very, very lovely that, thanks to my wonderful friend Krys, getting stuck into the garden this year did not involve two days of weeding (and all the attendant sore muscles). Thank you so much, sweetie.

So, what did the day in the garden involve?

During my last visit to the garden shop, I mentioned that my black currant produces very little fruit. Turns out that, like blueberries, black currants need a buddy. More slightly ribald comments about cross pollination ensue and a second black currant bush is purchased.



Too late this year, I fear, for the original to produce more than its usual handful of black currants, but hopefully this will change next year. And who knows? Perhaps the new bush will produce enough fruit for me to finally be able to make the wonderful pork with black currant sauce recipe, which was the main reason I bought a bush in the first place. (Although red currants do occasionally turn up for sale in the produce section of the local supermarket, black currants never do.)

While there, I also decided to play gooseberry for the first time, after spotting a pink gooseberry bush for sale. (Pink gooseberries, as I learnt from my cousin Peter, being sweeter than their green cousins.) What I don’t think to do, until I’m back home with both and look on the internet, is check to see what sort of conditions gooseberries like. As much sun as possible. Uh, oh. The spot I had in mind at the end of the raspberry row by the fence will not do the trick. Ring the garden shop. Can gooseberries be grown in containers, I ask? They hem and haw a bit, say, yes, well, probably for a year or two, but this is definitely not ideal. Look around garden for somewhere sunny. Well, I suppose I could use part of the original “raised bed” (ha, ha), usually devoted to cherry tomatoes. Worth a try.



Empty out one section completely and refill it with a mixture of topsoil and compost. Plant gooseberry and cross fingers. While I’m there I also weed the remaining three sections and mix some compost in, ready now for the tomato plants at the end of May.

Come inside for some lunch. Talk to Ginny on the phone about the Gabriola Youth Group session I’ve agreed to help out with this weekend. Mention I’m off to Wheelbarrow. She says she’s just been to pick up her tomato plants. Too soon! I cry. Tomatoes cannot be planted until the end of May. Of course she knows this. Hers have been placed in the cold frame. I need one of those, I tell her. Easy, peasy, says Ginny (a bit of a dab hand at carpentry). She can, she says, show me how to make one for next to nothing. Hurrah! Again, too late for this year, but next year…!



The Stargazer lilies I planted last year turned out to be every bit as beautiful and fraigrant as I’d hoped. (The wisteria behind – which I had visions of growing and blossoming all along the fence – not so much. Dead as a doornail.) Definitely need some more.

Bollocks. There are none to be had. What, oh what to buy instead? The other lilies just don’t cut it. Oh, but wait – what’s this I see? Freesias? I love freesias. Okay, they’ll do.

Woo, hoo!

Woo, hoo!

Go out to water apple tree (yes, Krys, I have been watering every day) and what do I see?



Check out the red blossoms getting ready to open! Is it possible I could actually get some apples this year off this glorified stick? Who’d have thought it?

And look!



Strawberries coming along. Hurrah.

And look!



Okay, not so much with this photo. You can’t really see, but five of the raspberry bushes are already starting to flower.

Sadly, temperature has plummeted rather since last week, so some concern about the seeds Krys planted – and the row of peas I put in over the weekend and the butternut squash seeds I put (in one last leap of faith) in sprouting pots.

Once again, fingers crossed.

Meanwhile, out back...

It’s not all going on in the garden. Oh, no.

Thanks to the excellent scavenging skills of Krys, I have lots of planters (spotted free for anyone who might want outside Arbutus one day).



As a result, my herbs really are now just outside the kitchen door. The oregano and the mint should be safe, but last year the deer munched the chives down to nothing. They seem to be staging a comeback, but only time will tell. (Assuming the bloody deer don’t go after them again.)

And, speaking of the bloody deer, at the garden shop I spot a bag of bulbs/tubers which (a) are supposed to be happy with a combination of sun and shade and, most importantly, (b) are “deer resistant”. Can this be true? It would be nice to have some sort of flowers out the back.



Will I, I ask at the nursery, get my money back if the bloody deer do eat the plants? They smile, because, of course, the only guarantee that the deer won’t eat something is a 10-foot, electrified fence. (Perhaps 15-foot.) This I do not have.

Decide to take a chance and buy a bag. And, thanks to the aforementioned planter scavenging, I have a pot which is exactly the right size.



Fingers crossed.

Blueberry thrill

The raised bed seems to be doing its job, inspiring me to reengage with the garden.

Even though last winter was not particularly harsh, one of the blueberry bushes Becky very kindly bought me in 2011 didn’t make it.



So, off to the garden shop I go. Following a somewhat ribald and amusing chat with the staff about the need of blueberry plants for a cross-pollination buddy, I purchase a replacement.



The construction of the raised bed has left me with a surplus of bricks (used last year to mark off the area of crap soil where vegetables would go to die), so why not put some of them to use?

At the garden shop, I also purchase a bag of gladioli, planning to use these to replace the apparently not perennial purple African daisies installed in the turquoise planters last year. (Yes, I did indeed manage to find planters which match the bench. Not bad, eh?)



There are 50 bulbs in the bag – far, far more than I could possibly squeeze into the pots. Stick some into another dead plant (last year’s basil) pot, then think to read the instructions. (Great for cut flowers, stagger planting every two weeks to ensure ongoing supply.) Ah. Decide not to plant them all and make mental note for staggered planting.

Check the seed pots started by Krys. Yes, it really does appear there may be some beets coming along. (Wonder in passing how long it’s been since I made borscht. I do believe it might be 20 years.)



Sadly, nothing else appears to be popping up. A greenhouse would be a lovely thing for starting this process, but there is absolutely nowhere to put one – not that I could afford one. A cold frame, on the other hand, seems feasible. How difficult could it be? Have a look on-line.



Yikes. This looks a bit complicated – unnecessarily complicate, I suspect. As Krys has pointed out, there are windows to be had for next to nothing at the recycling centre. Surely I could clobber something together? Perhaps not this year.

Do some weeding, water apple tree (for the second time that day) and the roses. Gaze once again in wonder at the purple buds which will be the first lilacs ever on my lilac tree.

It is, I do believe, time for a cocktail on the deck.

Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more

When my lovely friend Krys came out at the end of March to stay on Gabriola and take care of Angie the ancient cat while I was away in the UK, she asked what needed doing in the garden.

“Nothing,” I said. “I have officially given up. My soil is crap. I can’t take another summer of watching plants flower and die before bearing crops. I simply do not have the stomach for it. Until such time as I can sort out a raised bed loaded with quality top soil, I am growing nothing except tomatoes and berries.”

She looked quite disappointed, but what could I do?

“If you really want to do some gardening,” I told her, “some weeding in the side beds would be much appreciated.”

Off I went to the UK.

Sun shining and temperatures well into the teens when I left Vancouver. Overcast and freezing in London. Never mind. Becky had tickets for The Book of Mormon on the day I arrived. Quite possibly the funniest thing I’ve ever seen. Well worth a bit of shivering. (The following week we finally made it to see War Horse. Well worth the wait.)

Three days later it actually snowed. I had to break down and buy a pair of winter boots, as my canvas sneakers just didn’t cut it.


Hail falling on London.

The sun did actually come out on Friday when Becky and I spent a cultural day, starting with a visit to Tate Modern for the Lichtenstein exhibition. During a stroll along the South Bank to the original Tate for the vastly superior (and hopelessly promoted) Schwitters show, we came across the floating man.

I kid you not, he was floating on air. When I asked how he did it, he simply smiled and said, “Magic!” Close enough for cynical Becky and me. We both coughed up a pound.


Pausing for a fag (me) on Harry and Ruth’s bench, we made the acquaintance of some black-headed gulls. Apparently quite common, but I’d never seen one before.


Happily, the sun kept shining the next day for Irmani and Jonno’s wedding.


The bride, relieved that it’s not snowing. (Note open-toe sandals in previous pic.)


First fag as Mrs Smallwood.


The wedding really was beautiful, the reception a huge amount of fun.

Off to Stokey the next day to catch up with Tony, Rhidian and Ben. Decided to walk from the Defoe to the flat through Abney Park cemetery.


What’s this we spot surrounding multiple graves?


Turns out the jobsworths in Hackney council’s health and safety department had outdone themselves.


And here’s another interesting sign, spotted while I was on my way to meet my cousin Michael for dinner. Fucks Coffee? Yucks Coffee? Hard to say.

Lots of lovely visits with friends and family, tinged with great sadness at the death of my wonderfully formidable 101-year-old Aunt Jess. (Centre stage, below, with the five generations of her family at her 100th birthday celebrations.) I am so pleased the timing of my visit allowed me the opportunity to say goodbye to her.



And then it was time to introduce Becky to Amsterdam, where there was a crooked house.


And another one.

And many, many more.

A visit to the Rijksmuseum (newly reopened after a 10-year renovation) introduced us both to the Amsterdam Impressionists.


My favourite was Isaac Israels.


Becky went for Willem Witsen.

A sunny day stroll around Amsterdam the next day. Becky takes lots of no doubt very artistic photos. I snap yet another sign.


Although I need no reminder, the sign suggests it’s time to head back to BC.

WHAT ABOUT THE BLOODY GARDEN?

Yes, yes, I’m getting to that.

While I was away, gallivanting around galleries and going to the theatre, Krys and her husband Glenn, visiting for a week, built me a raised bed.


Oh, my god. This extraordinary act of kindness fills me with gratitude and dread. (The dread caused by the realisation that failure to actually produce crops now cannot be blamed on the soil and will rest squarely with me being a completely crap gardener.)

She’s even started some seedlings.

Beets, courgettes, peas and… And what? Damn, I’ve already forgotten. Hopefully it will become obvious.

Inspired by this, we go off to the nursery to buy more top soil and look for a fruit tree to plant behind the bench. A cherry tree would be nice, but, let’s face it, the birds will steal all the fruit. Moira at The Wheelbarrow explains why pears (my second choice) are a challenge. (Like the mystery seedlings, I’ve already forgotten what she said.) We look at apple trees. Holy moly! Who knew you could graft bits of apple tree together to create one tree producing five different variety of apples? And all the varieties (except the golden delicious) are actually delicious.

Now the only question is whether it is possible to dig a big enough hole in my rock-riddled garden. We come back to the house and dig a hole. Success! Back we go to The Wheelbarrow to buy the tree.


Assuming it lives (and I really will do my best, I promise, Krys), I will eventually have wonderful apples.


Yes, yes, I’ve said it before, but I know this really is going to be the year.

And the reason I know is that, 15 years after it was originally planted and three years since I rescued it from the deer, my lilac tree is actually producing blooms for the very first time.


It’s a miracle!
,
Well, I hope it’s at least a sign.

Wish me luck.