Blooming (not so) marvellous

Yes, I know. The garden updates are coming thin and slow. What can I say? First I was busy rehearsing for the world premiere of my play, and since then I have been (believe it or not) in rehearsals for staged readings of A Midsummer Night’s Dream. Seriously.

And then, of course, there is the almost completely irresistible prospect of spending time on the garden swing with Stella and a book. When am I supposed to find time to catch up?

So today we are going to have a few words about blossoms, going back to early May.

There are vases filled with lilacs all through the house, thanks to a bumper crop of blossoms.

Pretty impressive, eh?

Unfortunately, this is not my lilac tree. It’s Pat’s. My tree has once again failed to produce a single bloom. Apparently my tree will only bloom for Krys. And then (given that she was here in March) only if she’s here at blossom time.  Even more annoyingly, the second lilac I bought last year and planted in the excavated hole filled with sea soil has also (despite the promises of the garden shop) failed to produce a single bloom.

It’s a good thing Pat is very generous with his lilacs.

Elsewhere, the apple tree, which produced an abundance of blossom the first year (and one apple) and an abundance of blossom the second year (and eight apples), doesn’t seem all that happy. It took a long time for it to even begin producing leafs and this year there is not a single blossom. Oddly enough, neither has Pat’s much older and well-established apple tree, so I tell myself (somewhat optimistically) that perhaps apple trees occasionally take a year off. Au contraire, I discover when I later make enquiries at the garden shop. Have I, they ask, pruned it? Pruned it? It’s a tiny little spliced apple tree that consists of little more than twigs. Surely pruning it would kill it? Apparently not. Oh, well. Next year.

Back in early April, the pear tree, added last year, did produce a lot of blossom.

Several weeks later there is nothing on the tree even hinting it might turn into a pear.  So much for my orchard plans. (Yes, I am kidding.)

Leaping forward to June, there is some better bloomin’ news.

 The never-watered, never-disappoints blackberry is once again producing an abundance of bee-friendly blossom.

And every day there are new roses for the bud vases.

Now. If you’ll forgive me, the garden swing calls.

Buzzing

A lovely, lazy afternoon spent stretched out in the garden swing with stellar Stella and a good book. (Her by Harriet Lane, ordered from the library months ago after reading a good review, only now arrived.)

This is one of the best times to be in the garden. The California lilac is in bloom and it is absolutely buzzing.

There are so many bees swarming around this plant it’s difficult to believe there are any bees anywhere else on the island. It’s also difficult to believe that fiveyears ago this was the size of the tree.

Eventually it gets too hot on the swing – first for Stella, then for me. So in I come to write a few lines about how tough life on Gabriola is.

I’m not sure how much bee-friendly bloom is likely from the California lilacs I’ve planted at the back of the house. Actually, I am sure: not much.

For one thing, the trees don’t get as much sun back here. I can live with that. For another (unfortunate) thing (goddamnit), it turns out California lilacs aren’t as deer resistant as I thought. No, deer won’t munch them down to the ground, as they do many things, but, as Donna Deacon has pointed out to me, they will nibble up all the new leafs (and therefore blooms). Gahhhhh!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

So, the California lilac I planted in March…

… now looks like this…

Let’s hope that the parrot or the chicken wire (or both) will keep this clown away. 

Time to shift myself, my book and a gin and tonic to here.

Life is tough sometimes.

The miracle of the garden swing

Stella is a lovely cat in many, many ways, but she hates to be picked up and cuddled, and she is definitely not a lap cat. (Roxie on the other hand is good with both.) Occasionally, when Stella is beside me on the sofa or on the bed, she will deign to rest her head on my leg. A major concession.

So, imagine my surprise just now. I’m stretched out on the garden swing reading a New Yorker article when Stella gets up on the swing and stretches herself out on top of me, purring up a storm. Unprecedented and quite wonderful. Pity I eventually have to get up for a bathroom break. Will this, I wonder, ever happen again?

Or will she move back to what has become her summer home?

As Catherine can attest from her recent visit, Stella loves the turquoise bench, shifted from its place in the garden to the top of the rock garden. She’s always out there when I get up in the morning and quite often there when I go to bed at night. Definitely Stella’s bench. Roxie doesn’t get a look in.

Which is okay, because Roxie, thinking perhaps that she really is a tiger, prefers to hide in the foliage.

Spot the cat.

Easier done than finding the snow leopard in this photo a friend posted on Facebook recently.

Can’t find it? Click here. 

Back to the swing now. Will Stella rejoin me? Watch this space.

In the swing

Yes, yes, I know. It’s been a while. Well, what can I say? I’ve been busy. And I’m a bit busy today, so this is going to be a very quick update.

The most exciting thing in the garden at the moment is this.

Yes, thanks to a friend who wanted rid, I have a garden swing. It is heaven. I foresee a long, hot summer of reading. As you can see, Stella also loves the swing. Wish I’d had a video camera at hand the first time she jumped on – and shot off – it. Comedy gold. (She has now worked out that it doesn’t move as much if she uses the crate.)

Hell, the swing isn’t just the most exciting thing in the garden, it may be the most exciting thing in my life, up to and possibly including my run for the Labour leadership and the recent world premiere of my play. 

There is a great deal of good news (and bad news) to report from the garden, but it won’t be today.

For now I will simply share my new approach to gardening on Gabriola.

 

If I can’t have the island’s most productive garden (and I really can’t), then, as God is my witness, I’m going to have the cutest. And how could it get cuter than this?

More anon.

PS Although this has nothing to do with the garden, I would just like to thank the wonderful cast of That's Nice for breathing such fabulous life into my wacky characters.

Left to right: Marvellous Millicent (Jenn Feenan), Grumpy Greville (Cec Ashley), Charming Charlotte (Donna Deacon), me, Zany Zoe (Madeleine Ani), and Roguish Ralph (Roger Carter)

And I'd like to thank supercalifragilisticexpialidocious Catherine Stewart for driving all the way from Midway to share the world premiere with me.

Going to pot

Seeing as I had to go to GIRO today anyway, seemed like a good time to pop into the garden shop for some seeds.

We’ll get to the sweet peas in a minute, but first, please note that I am going to try growing some catnip just to see how mad the cats go. And note also what the wildflowers packet says: Bee blend. I cannot wait to find out what these will be.

While I’m there I decide to pick up a sage plant for the herb garden (in case Krys ever needs it for stuffing). Oh, and what’s this, sitting by the cash register where I can’t miss it? A bag of purple dahlias. Well, I think I’m going to have to get these too. The manager recommends potting them at this point, rather than planting them in the ground. No problem. If there’s one thing I’ve got, it’s plenty of pots.

Back home for an al fresco lunch and then down to the garden.

First I dig along between the new bed and the fence, mix some sea soil in and plant the sweet peas. If all goes according to plan they will grow up the fence and will look – and smell – amazing.

Then I pull out my empty pots and start potting the dahlias. When I tip the peat out of the last bag, this appears.

This thing bears absolutely no resemblance to a dahlia tuber. What the hell could it be? (If you have any idea, please let me know.) Well, waste not, want not. That’s what I say. And, I admit, I’m wildly curious.

So, in a pot it goes and time alone will tell what it might be. (Rest assured there will be progress reports.)

The actual dahlias are potted and now line up nicely between the raspberry bed and the fence. I think I might just leave them that way. 

After all, as I’m sure you recall, the Star Gazer lilies (old photo) stay in their pots year round and flower beautifully every summer. Why not the dahlias?

Short break for a fag and a cuppa, while I consider what to do about the unsightly former raspberry bed. I know Cec will get to me eventually, but meanwhile it’s a bit of an eyesore. What to do until there’s a raised bed?

Wait a minute! I know exactly what to do! Scattered around the garden there are pots of fuchsias, dwarf roses and bulbs.

I’ll move them all to one place. Much better. A pot for everything and every pot in its (however temporary) place.

Time for a gin and tonic.

PS: Speaking of pot, a headline in the Globe and Mail caught my eye today: “Tories sweeten pot for seniors”. As someone who is now in the sooner rather than way later countdown to retirement (how the hell did that happen?), I was momentarily thrilled at the idea of CRAP trying to bribe seniors with hash brownies. Alas, the headline actually referred to changes in the laws about when you can and can’t cash in RRSPs (ISAs, for UK folk). As if I’ll have any to worry about. I’d far rather have the hash brownies. Although that’s probably more Justin Trudeau’s thing.