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.

The bees' needs

If I have a gardening philosophy it’s this.

In the absence of any innate ability, I find a philosophy is useful.

Of course, the keeping calm part was a challenge last year, after this bastard got into and wreaked havoc in the garden.

Bee friendly, on the other hand, has remained my buzz phrase. Furthering that goal was job one this Easter weekend.

Thanks to Cec (who is now – hurrah! – staying on the island), I have another yard of sea soil, which I can put to good use.

We begin, not in the garden, but in the back forty (as if I have forty acres – ha!).

As you may (or may not) recall, back in 2012 I had some trees felled.

The rounds were duly chopped and have by now been burned over the intervening winters. The ground remained covered in branches. After two years I accepted that these would never biodegrade during my lifetime, so I hired someone to help me clear them. Then I set about “landscaping”.

Rocks, as you can see, are a big feature. With no fence (not that that stopped frigging Bambo last year), planting options were limited. Deer do not eat daffs, so lots of those went in the ground last autumn. (Is it just me or do I definitely need more pink flamingos back here?)

As a rule (which can be broken), deer do not eat heather or lavender, so I planted both. Bees are very partial to lavender.

I was delighted to discover that another plant deer generally leave alone is my old bee-friendly favourite, the Ceanothus. (Which, as I was informed today, is also known as a California lilac, a name I’ve decided I prefer.)  

So, job one today was digging a hole in the rock-encrusted so-called soil, filling it with sea soil and adding a new California lilac.

This is the third one I’ve planted out back. Eventually, I suspect, there will be more.

Sorry!

With apologies to friends whose gardens may currently be buried under two or more feet of snow (yes, Jane, I do mean you), this is early February on Gabriola.

Last autumn, to celebrate my land (and rock) scaping work out back, I planted dozens of daffodil bulbs. They are the only thing bloody deer absolutely, positively will not eat. It may not be easily discernible from the photo below, but they’re coming along nicely. Friends on the island who get more rather more sun than I do this time of year, already have daffs in bloom. (Again, sorry, Jane.)

Something new for this year. For the first time ever, I have a sort-of greenhouse. A friend on the island who has one like this swears it does the job, so I figured I’d go mad and splurge fifty bucks on one.

Despite the dozens of pieces arriving in a box without instructions, I managed to figure out how to put the frame together.

When I started unfolding the cover I was suddenly reminded of the toxics talk roadshow I did around BC back in the 1990s. At one point I would always ask: “Has anyone here ever pulled a PVC shower curtain out of the package and felt as if you were being gassed?” Invariably there would be a couple of nods. And then I’d say: “You were.” I would then explain about the various component chemicals in PVC that escaped as soon as the plastic was unfolded.

Oh, crap, I thought the other day. The plastic cover for my mini-greenhouse is PVC. Why didn’t I think to check?

And then I thought, am I really going to take the whole thing apart and try to send it back for a refund? Is there any chance I could get a refund? Almost definitely not.

And then I wondered what sort of chemicals were likely to leach out of the PVC when the sun got on it and what might those chemicals do to any seedlings sprouted inside it for my supposedly pesticide-free garden?

And then I poured myself a drink.

We shall see.

Surprise!

Just as no one expects the Spanish Inquisition,

no one (least of all me) expects a garden update in January. However…

An unseasonably mild week drew me to the garden on Monday. Roses (already budding), raspberries and blackberry trimmed. Seemed like enough for this time of year.  And yet the sun continued to shine.

So, back I went this morning.

The strawberries and the short blueberry bush have now been transplanted to the raised bed Cec built last summer. The sea soil in the blue container is all that’s left of last year’s yard. The saddest news (for Gabriola and for me) of the new year is that Cec and Joyce have put their house up for sale and are planning to move to Vancouver Island. I need to get another yard of sea soil in pronto.

The other two blueberry bushes have been transplanted to better quality soil. Hopefully there will be lots of berries this year – and I’ll get to them before the fucking birds. 

The original raised bed (kindly built by Krys and Glenn) is ready for planting. In January. Blimey.

How self-satisfied am I feeling? Plenty.

And here, for no other reason than it was in the camera when I downloaded the garden pics, is the 2014 Christmas tree.

Happy New Year!

Zukes alors!

Okay, okay, okay. I know I am long overdue for an update and I do promise there will be one – eventually. For now I simply pose the question: are courgettes/zucchinis mutants?

When I left for Seattle on Sunday morning for the Mike Wallace Memorial Baseball Game, there were two young courgettes on the plant and two barely starting to grow from their flowers. When I went down to the garden this morning I had two fucking huge courgettes and two smaller ones. WTF?

Thank heavens for Becky’s courgette soup recipe, another batch of which I am about to make, otherwise I’d have to give the damn things away.

I reproduce it here for anyone having a similar problem.

Courgette and cheese soup

• 2 tbsp olive oil
• 1 tbsp butter
• 1 medium onion, roughly chopped
• 900g courgettes, trimmed and sliced
• 1 tsp dried oregano (or 3 tbsp fresh oregano)
• 600 ml veg stock
• 115g dolcelatte cheese, diced (or gorgonzola for more cheesy input)
• 300ml / 1.25 cups of single cream (Becky: I don’t think you really need this*)
• salt and pepper

1. Heat oil and butter in saucepan until foaming. Add onion and cook for about 5 mins stirring frequently until softened
2. Add the courgettes and oregano, with salt and pepper to taste. Cook for 10 mins on medium heat, stirring.
3. Pour in stock and bring to boil, stirring frequently, lower heat and half cover pan, simmer gently for about 30 mins.
4. Stir in cheese until melted
5. Process in blender until smooth
6. Add 2/3 of the cream and stir over low heat until hot but not boiling. 
7. Adjust seasoning if you like.
8. Pour into bowls and swirl in remaining cream.

* Like Becky, I really don’t think the cream adds anything.

Elsewhere: As you can see from the photo above of today's pickings, the blackberry bush has gone mad this year, which means there will be lots to freeze. Hurrah.

The yellow cherry tomato plants – the only kind available when I needed to replace the red cherry tomato plants eaten by the deer (grr) – have been producing well and are very tasty indeed.

And, in case you’re wondering how I’m keeping further invaders out of the garden…

So far, so good. Namaste. 

Fuck, fuck, fuck a buck

Today was going to be the day I wrote about how rosy everything in the garden was.

About how well the fig tree was doing now that it was in the ground.

About how many strawberries I will be getting this year.

About the peas and carrots and beets and tomatoes.

And then I went down to the garden this morning to see if there was a rose in bloom for my bud vase.

And there was. One. All the other about-to-bloom roses were gone.

Someone had enjoyed a multi course feast the previous night. I suspect this clown.

Apparently he doesn’t know his place – here, at the back of the house.

See, here’s the thing. I don’t have the world’s best fence, but thanks to the location, it’s almost impossible for a deer to take a running leap at it. Once upon the time there was an actual gate, but in my absence Mike left it open and it rotted. So, what has laughingly been passing as a “gate” for the past four years is some chicken wire stretched across the end of the ever-so-good-for-running-jumps path to the garden. I know Antler Boy must have jumped over it, because the chicken wire was still in place this morning. Up until now I’ve been lucky.

So, how did he do? Well, there’s the chomped roses

and the remaining half of the fig tree, which may or may not survive.

He had a good chomp on the lilac and the pear tree. I don’t know how likely it was that the latter would bear fruit this year, but I think that ship has sailed.

He took most of the young apples.

But not all.

Neither Stella nor I have any idea whether or not the tomatoes, all of which have had their tops chomped off will survive.

Most of the beet leaves are gone (I’ve no idea if they’ll keep growing without leaves), along with some of the carrot tops. And then there are the strawberries.

Almost every leaf gone, although most of the berries are still there. (Easier for the slugs and squirrels to find them.) Are these, I wonder, even worth transferring to the new raised bed in the autumn?

And then there’s this fabulous irony. A few days ago, I took a photo of these now-safely-in-the-garden, proven last year (contrary to the claim on the packaging) to be not in the least deer-resistant plants.

I thought it would be nice for people to see what last year’s red flowers might have looked like. Small, but pretty, I thought. Now they’re gone.

On the plus side (yes, there is an extremely small plus side), apparently Antler Boy doesn’t like squash.

So, having surveyed the damage, I have now, in a pathetic attempt at a barn door/horse solution, dragged the rotten disparate part of the old gate out of the woods, in the hope that this might add enough of a deterrent.

Bastard bastard bastard bastard bastard bastard.

The ceanothus is a buzzing

Honestly, it’s all go in the Gabriola garden. I will, I promise, do a longer update soon, but for now…

Remember this hole?

Well, thanks to the wonderful Cec Ashley, I am able to acquire that yard of sea soil.

The photo doesn’t really do it justice. That’s a lot of soil.

Which is just as well, because filling that hole requires a lot of soil.

And this is what it looks like now. On the left is a wisteria which is just about to bloom. In the middle a lilac tree which, small as it is, I am promised will bloom next year. On the right (temporary filler until I can identify a flowering shrub able to thrive on partial sun) some of my favourite fuchsias.

Elsewhere…

The ceanothus is a buzzing

Every blossom has a bee

And I’m prepared for Christmas

With a partridge in a pear tree.