My aching butt

Oh, yes, I remember this now.  The day after the first day of really bending down and digging in: the sore legs and the aching butt. I get the leg muscles – all that stretching and crouching, but my ass? I remember posing this question on Facebook years ago, after my first big gardening day in Walthamstow. Someone – I vaguely remember it being Birgit –  who clearly paid more attention in anatomy classes than I ever did, replied with the information that there are butt muscles (glutes?) attached to the thigh muscles which I’d also been stretching more than usual. How annoying is that? Not quite as annoying as the clear recollection that tomorrow it will be worse. That just doesn’t seem fair.

Anyway… 

During all the bending and stretching yesterday, I spot the first flowers opening on the strawberry plants. I haven’t put a seed in the ground yet (must get on to that) and already food is beginning to appear. Hurrah.

Tiny, tiny flowers are starting to appear on the raspberry plants. There are also tons of flowers on the blueberry and black currant plants and lots of berries already sprouting on the gooseberry.

This is all very promising, I think, as I add compost to all these beds.

Mind you, it always seems very promising this time of year. And it all gets very exciting as we move into summer, and then this happens.

There is part of me that thinks it’s only fair that my gardening efforts (such as they are) should benefit other species. (Although never bloody Bambo.) Have I not, after all, made a concerted effort to have a bee-friendly garden? Yes, I have. So, in theory, it should be fine if the birds get something, too. It’s the ratio that’s a little galling. I figure it’s about 75/25. If I was the one getting the 75%, that would be fine, but I’m not. (With the exception of the blackberries, which for some reason the birds leave largely alone.) I mention this to Cec when he comes round to fix the fence.

Two days later, Mr Fixit, bless him, returns with this.

It is the first of four netting frames he’s decided to build for me. What a guy!

Before attaching the netting the frame needs to be either stained or painted. Which should it be? I’m pretty sure I actually have some stain stored away somewhere, but is that what I want? I’m thinking something colourful might be nice? But what colour? Day-Glo pink might be nice. Too much? Perhaps. Turquoise? There’s already a fair bit of it in the garden.

Too much if the frames are turquoise, too? Perhaps. Purple? Cobalt blue? Red? Oh, my god, I just don’t know. Decisions, decisions. Well, I need to figure it out and get on it before the birds start snarfing berries. What do you think?

Coming up roses

My first full day in the garden. Still in April and it feels like June. This does not bode well, comrade. Suspect we’re in for another long, hot summer. At least we had more rain last winter than we did the previous year. Fingers crossed.

First job of the day (after retrieving the swing cushions from the shed) is a bit of pet cemetery maintenance. Weed around and add compost to first Angie and Tri’s rose bushes…

… then Clancy’s

The other rose bushes are also coming back nicely.

Although, sadly, the one at the back on the right looks as if it might be dead. Oh, no, wait a minute, on closer inspection…

Check this out! A new rose bush seems to be coming up out of the roots of the seemingly dead one! The last time this happened, the roses on the new bush were a completely different colour. Wonder if this will happen again? (Wonder if I can remember what colour the roses on this bush were before?) 

Don’t worry, I shall keep you posted.

Outside the back door

It may have taken me until a couple of days ago to get around to the first entry of garden blog 2016, but things have been going on in the garden – and outdoors – for some time.

For example, first al fresco breakfast was on April Fool’s Day. (Thought, what with the date and all, it might have been a bit mean to post this at the time, when friends back east were under two feet of snow.)

 

The kitchen door herb garden is coming back well. Well, almost.

Took this photo this morning. Had I taken a photo on April 1st, I would have made the following comment about the pot on the left of the top row: “Surprised to see parsley I don’t even remember planting growing in this pot.” As you can see, there is now nothing in this pot. Turns out, as I’ve obviously forgotten, that while Bambo will generally leave herbs alone, he does make some exceptions and one of these is parsley. Bastard.

As followers may remember, I got up one morning last July to discover that Stella’s favourite chair had apparently been attacked overnight by a raccoon.

Yikes!

As much as I do love the garden swing, where Stella and I spent a good deal of last summer, I did also love that zero-gravity chair. Take advantage of a trip through Nanaimo to purchase a new one. Five minutes after I put it up…

It may or may not be obvious from the photo, but Stella really is giving me an “it’s about bloody time” look.

Coming soon: News from the actual garden. Seriously.

Do fence me in

Yes, yes, I know. Everyone has been wondering (all five of you) when the hell I was going to get the gardening blog going again. Well, here it is: the starter entry for 2016. 

First disappointment of the year is the discovery, when Irmani and I return to Gabriola from wanky Whistler, that the bamboo fence I erected last year to protect the wisteria from deer has collapsed in a wind storm. Crawl around the back to see if there is anything I can do about this. The answer is no. Not a chance. This requires Mr Fixit.

I ring Cec, explain my problem. He comes round to have a look. Bless him, he does not look at the fence, look at me and say, “What a stupid way to try to make a fence.” What he does say (and what I’ve already figured out) is that the only way this thing I have optimistically been referring to as a fence can actually be a fence is by hammering in at least two more fence posts at the back.

I go to Arbutus, purchase fence posts.

This morning Cec comes back with his scaffold, sledge hammer and a bag of plastic ties. We set to work. An hour later, not only is the fence repaired, but it is standing up a damn sight straighter than it was when I erected it last summer.

It is no longer likely that a slight breeze (or wisteria seeking Bambo) could knock it over again.

Despite all evidence to the contrary, I am not a complete mug, so I pick up a third fence post at Arbutus. I figure, if a very kind and helpful man with a sledge hammer is coming around to hammer in fence posts, I might was well get another post on the side of the garden where the wire is leaning so far forward (or back, depending on how I position it) a half way intelligent deer could actually probably step over it.

It may not be immediately obvious from this photo, but, yes, that is a new fence post in the middle.

What should be immediately obvious is that this bed has been dug over – and fertilised – and is now ready for peas and other seed. (In case you’re wondering, the rolled up chicken wire is an attempt to discourage Stella and Roxy from using the freshly dug earth as a giant litter box.)

More anon. No, really.