Next steps and a revelation

Well, this is very exciting. Go out to water the garden in the morning and realise that, not only is there quite a lot of new growth on the lilac bush (hurrah!), but there is also new growth on my poor, scrappy, survivor rose bush.


Not sure quite what you’re seeing? Here’s a close up.


Yes, it’s true! Those red leaves are new growth. Is it possible? Have the two new rose bushes inspired my scrapper to a growth spurt? Or is it my TLC? Or just the fact that the poor thing is no longer choked out by weeds and is actually getting some water? Doesn’t matter. What matters is this poor little rose bush may live to flower another day.

Occurs to me that I really should be doing something to protect the roses from aphids.


So, of course, this means another trip to the garden shop and another hunt through the marigolds for some yellow ones.

And, of course, while I’m at the garden shop I cannot ignore the pleading call of the lobelias. “Buy us,” they whimper. “Take us home. We’re meant to be together.” Yes, we are. I cannot deny it. So I liberate them, along with some more petunias which clearly would rather be in my garden than in the garden shop greenhouse. (I do consider adding a fuchsia to the mix to celebrate the news from Irmani that my Walthamstow fuchsia, nearly killed by last winter’s surfeit of snow, pulled through and put out. Unfortunately, the only one they have left is a pretty poor looking specimen and doesn’t have the wonderful pink and purple blend of the one now residing in Camden. Carrying my tray of flowers to the car, I spot exactly the one I want in a larger planter. Cannot stop myself asking how much it is. No, no, no. I cannot afford to be buying everything I want. I regretfully wave the fuchsia goodbye – knowing that, if it’s still there when I get back from Vancouver, I’m not going to be able to resist it a second time.)

What to do with the lobelias and petunias? I could, as I’d previously considered, plant them in the bed, but I’m not sure the petunias will survive in the not so great soil. Plus, if I start putting something other than the companionably planted marigolds in this bed, it will just make the rest of the bed cry out for more and more (and more and more) flowers. Decide I’d be better go with another pot, like the one I planted out back for Mike.

The pot does look pretty, but where should it go?


After picking it up and putting it down in various locations, all of which look vaguely ridiculous, I finally realise it belongs on the ground beside the bench. Oh, poor bench. Structurally there’s nothing wrong with it (other, of course, than the several missing planks). I really should do something about all the peeling paint. But not today.

Well, now that I’ve potted or replanted all these flowers and herbs, I do have quite a collection of small pots. More than enough, I think, to start sprouting some of those seeds I bought in a moment of folly. Kelly is, after all, going to bring her rototiller around, so it is feasible I could have some sort of vegetable patch soon. (Even if it isn’t that imaginary raised bed of mine.) If I stick some seeds in soil and make sure Pat waters these, too, while I’m in Vancouver, surely there is some possibility that some of the seeds will start to sprout while I’m away? Worth a try, I figure.


It’s only after I’ve put seeds in the second pot that I realise I have no old Popsicle sticks or anything else to write down what’s in each pot. Hmm. Need a system. Opt for “filing” the remaining seeds in a spare pot in the order they’ve been planted from left to right (front of pot being left). Let’s hope I remember this system when I return.

Come inside to check my email and play my turn in Facebook scrabble. (I really did plan to deactivate my Facebook account as part of my overall plan – including writing actual letters to people – to abandon 21st century annoyances, but the lure of scrabble has defeated this goal.) Out of curiosity decide to Google “Gabriola garden”. There are a surprising number of hits, but the one that really counts is an absolutely bloody revelation. It’s all about “square foot” gardening.


It’s like a raised bed wet dream: 12 inch squares of prepared soil in which you can raise small amounts of multiple crops (which is what you want when you’ve only got two people eating them). Where has this been all my life?

Run upstairs to look in the Gabriola phone book for a number for the Kandas. Of course there isn’t one. Either they’re not listed or this is an alias. (Name does sound unlikely, doesn’t it?) Determine that I will somehow track them down when I return from Vancouver and arrange to have a look at this marvel.

I am inspired!

I am also very definitely now in need of quite a few planks and a saw.