Dancing in the Garden

There are four things that made me so happy today, I danced in the garden.


Here's the first one: shoots on my Haskap Honeysuckle, just like the folks at T & T seeds said would grow, if I trimmed the broken stem, and applied some fertilizer.

Here's the second:
Peas shoots, that, unmolested by slugs, survived the night to see another day.. Perhaps the protection of a coat of eggshell fragments helped.   

Here's number three: Chive blossoms that are almost ready to become Chive Blossom and Sage Jelly,  

 

And the fourth one for today: Shoes from the dollar store, perfect for hot days in the garden, when I like to use the hose to rinse and cool my feet! $2.00/pair!! How can you go wrong?

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May all of you find at least one thing each day that inspires you to dance.

Spring is Like a Box of Chocolates

Since the May long weekend is a gardening turning point in Toronto, I figured that it was a good time to start blogging for the season. We had a very mild winter, with only about three snowfalls that required any shoveling, and a very early Spring, as well. So much sprang up. Actually, many things remained green right through the winter, such as the garlic I planted in the fall which had enough time before the cold to send up leaves. At first I thought that the whole crop would die over the winter, but the leaves stayed green, and they are now lush, with thick juicy stems that promise underground treasure.
Garlic:

My Swiss Chard survived, and is now bolting. I will certainly allow it to flower and set seed, which I can plant next year. Swiss Chard, reaching for the sky:

I have been told that Sweet William is a perennial, but mine never survived the winters, until now.  I even have flowers! The Black Raspberry, that I was so worried about last year, not only came back where it had sent up a volunteer near my Gooseberries, 

(Black Raspberry, growing up the arbor):

 

but it also came back up in the spot where I thought it had died. Now I have two plants, each with their own arbor to climb over.

Here is the Black Raspberry, coming up from last years roots. It has also given me a healthy looking shoot. Yes, I realize that the new plant is growing in my garden path, but I'm so happy that I have Black Raspberries at all, that I am perfectly content to let it grow this year where ever it wants to grow. I'll corral it next year.

  

 

I know I'll get a good crop of berries this year, because there are lots of blossoms, and lots of bees doing their "thang" with them!:

 

I am also delighted to report that my female Sea Buckthorn, which I planted last Spring, (along with it's mate, of course) and which didn't seem to really take, has come back, looking bright and healthy. 

Sea Buckthorn (female on the left):

 

The Golden Raspberries have also come back nice and strong, and I have already dug up a few errant sprouts, and replanted them in their allotted garden bed. I know that it's a raspberries job to spread, but I'll do what I can to keep them under control, so that I don't have to give up all my other beds to them. 

 One thing that I wish didn't come back is the Sweet Woodruff. It spreads like wildfire! At least the roots are shallow, so I can keep yanking it back with a decent amount of effectiveness.

There were, unfortunately, some losses, which where quite a surprise, considering the mildness of the winter. My regular Thyme, which had been growing vigorously for years, turned into a mound of crunchy brown twigs. My Lemon Thyme, however, did make it. 3 out of my 5 rows of Asparagus are not showing any signs of life, and something is eating the heads off of the few poor spears that are coming up in the first row. You'd think that who/whatever is eating it could show the plant some respect and at least eat the whole thing, but no, just the yummy tips are gone.
Decapitated asparagus:

The Lemon Balm was a gorgeous, bright green mound. Three mounds, actually. I say "was" because I already harvested it.  I never know exactly where it's going to be, but I know I'll always have some. I harvested the big leaves, to allow all the suckers in the leaf bracts to grow.
Naked Lemon Balm:

 

The Lemon Balm harvest, laid out to dry:

 I also have so much fun trying to find the spots where my catnip is going to be - its also never in the same place twice, but just like the Lemon Balm, it's sure to be somewhere. The mints (Chocolate Mint, Peppermint, Ginger Mint and Spearmint) are flourishing in their tubs, growing more abundantly then I have seen in years, and everyday I pull out handfuls of Forget-Me-Nots to make room to plant seeds - Calendula, Johnny-Jump-Ups, Poppies and Zinnia.
Johnny-Jump-Ups - doesn't looking at them make you happy?

 My favorite blooms at this time of year are the Lilacs (who doesn't like lilacs?) and the Bridal Wreath Spirea. Mine is in full bloom today, and it, too, makes me happy to look at it.

It is hot and sunny this May long weekend, 25 degrees C in the shade, and just glorious. Hot hot is it? My Arugula, Tatsoi and Mizuna have all already started to bolt.  Here's a picture of my "greens bed". And if anyone can tell me what the heck slept in the middle of it, I'd love to know! What does it think, that it's a nice, cool, clean place to lay down??? Oh, yeah, I guess it is....

It's been so warm for so long now, that I have been comfortable enough to plant any seed that says "sow when the ground has warmed". I've been leaving my basil, okra and tomatoes out overnight with no ill effects, so I planted them today, as well as the cucumbers. My raspberries and red currants are all trained on their trellises, and the green beans have been started in the house. They'll go out as soon as they have "broken ground" for a few days indoors. Something always eats them when I plant them in the garden, but I have had better luck when I plant sprouts that are a few days old, and surround them with broken egg shells and coffee grounds. I will keep them well spaced this year, so they leaves won't grow any mold or fungus. I was thinking that it was something that started to grow on my beans that infected my Tayberries last year, and spoiled my harvest. Speaking of eggshells, I had lots of fun collecting up eggshells this winter, from my kitchen, and from the kitchens of friends and family who are loving enough to remember to keep their shells for me!

Two years ago I bought some Haksap Honeysuckle seedlings from T and T Seeds in Manitoba. Despite following the instructions, the little things died quite quickly after I got them. I called the company, and they told me that lots of people were having that problem, and they refunded my money (store credit, actually, which I was happy to use). I tried again this year, and got my package of three seedlings in the mail about a week ago. The box had a sticker on it that said "I Am Alive!", and the mail man who handed me the box looked distinctly uncomfortable. I reassured him that it was plants, not animals, and that he could relax. He did! I planted them that day. Two days later, during morning inspection, I noticed a big hole in the garden right beside where one of the seedlings was planted, and I noticed the seedling on its side, snapped off at the base. I was heartbroken!
What a Haskap Honeysuckle should look like, followed by its :somewhat demolished sibling:

It seemed to me that the roots were undisturbed, and therefore, I hoped still healthy. I emailed the company, asking what to do. They said to give it a sharp trim and some fertilizer, and it should send up some new shoots. I trimmed and fertilized it, and now I inspect it multiple times a day to check for any green activity. I know it will take much longer then this, but I can't help myself. There surely will be more reports and photos as the summer, and hopefully my Honeysuckle, progress.

A nice surprise was my husband coming home with a rain barrel. We had been talking about getting one for years, and we finally did. Here he is inspecting his installation. We had to lift two dozen of the bricks, and level the screening underneath them, so the step the barrel is resting on would be level and stable.

One of the biggest surprises of all was finding my Datura seeds. I found it while spring cleaning in the garage, and getting all the garden stuff set up and ready at hand. The seeds were still in the pods, and the pods were hiding under what was left of the garlic wreath that I wove after last year's garlic harvest. Spring really is like a box of chocolates - you just never know what your going to find!

Quiet Bravery

I had wanted to grow Datura. I had planted some around 10 years ago, and loved it, and couldn't find plants or seeds again. In 2007, a plant came up in the middle of my garden. I was so happy. I tended it, and guarded it, and nurtured it, and in the fall I carefully collected the seeds and stored them safely away. So safely, in fact, that I could never find them again. And I really wanted Datura. Well, one day this midsummer, I was pruning my tomatoes, when something between the tomato plants caught my eye. Datura! Nowhere near where it grew before - in a different bed entirely, on a different side of the house. Gotta love that compost - it makes gardening like a box of chocolates - you never know what you're going to get! 

So now I'm watching the seed pod grow and mature, and I'll blog where I store the seeds, so I can find them next year. I plan to post a photo of my Summer 2012 Datura Hedge! Here's what the seed pod looks like:

And speaking of compost volunteers, remember the picture of my newly planted Sea Buckthorn? Let me remind you....

  
Remember how I talked about planting them in buckets of my compost? So here's how they look now...

Those are volunteer tomatillos that came up all by themselves. I came back from vacation, and there they were. Not to worry - I pinched them way, way back, so that the little trees most certainly have a fighting chance. But talk about perseverance! No matter how many blossoms or branches I pinch off a tomatillo plant, twice as many more are sprouted. No kidding. Pinching back tomatillos is pretty much a make work project.  


The red raspberries didn't do well with the extreme heat, but I did manage to harvest a few cups before the real heat wave began. The poor berries just couldn't withstand the relentless heat, and they pretty much withered on their branches. Even with the water they got, it just wasn't enough. I did get a great crop of red currants, though. They were ready before the terrible heat, so the crop was fine. I love the photograph them in the sun, since they glow like rubies, or, if you're a Roger Zelazny fan, like Jewels of Judgment. 

My apple tree did bear fruit, but like most years, they fell before I could pick them, and the ants and squirrels got the best of them. I did get a few bites, though.

I've seen it so many times, but the garden never fails to amaze and astonish me with how it changes, and how it actually produces things we can eat! Over and over, I have the privilege of bearing witness to the movie that is my garden over the growing and harvesting seasons. 

Comparing before and after pictures really brings this home. 
I submit the following series for your approval:

Peppers

Green Beans

Cucumbers

Lettuce

I have to admit, though, that I did run into a few problems this year. Aside from the heat, my green beans did develop a kind of rust on the leaves. It didn't seem to be detrimental to fruit set, but it was weird. The tayberries were right beside the beans, and this year they suffered from something that I've never seen before -  a lot of the berries went grey and fuzzy. Can anyone tell me what this is? I've got pictures of the bean leaves, and the fuzzy berries, below. Note to self - next year, don't plant the green beans anywhere near the tayberries, and give them something taller to climb on, so that the leaves get more air circulation, and may be less susceptible to disease. 

I would also like to share my favorite pictures of the year, pictures that speak to me of quiet miracles, sometimes beauty in simplicity, sometimes beauty in complexity, sometimes beauty in perfect form or balance:

I say thank you, to the quiet bravery and perseverance of the botanical world. I applaud the audacity with which plants grow, survive, and flourish in such a broad spectrum of conditions. 
I admire their ability to adapt, their resourcefulness and their resilience, and I'm humbly grateful for their generosity. My vegetable beds nourish me figuratively during the meditations of planting, weeding, tending, and harvesting, well before they nourish me physically. 
I can only express my gratefulness  by showing care, by tending conscientiously, and by making use of as much of the garden as I can, attempting to waste nothing.

Some Decisions are Easy, Some Not So Much

Some decisions are so easy - I knew just where to put the Sea Buckthorn, just as I knew where to place the peach coloured rose bush our friends gave us, whose blooms, by the way, smell just like a bowl freshly picked raspberries, still warm from the sun. So why can't I decide where to put my Lemon Verbena? Each afternoon I come home from work, determined to plant it. I pick it up. I look at it. I sniff it's leaves. I carry it around the garden, and then I put it back in the "nursery", beside my other pots of little plants; mostly rescued volunteers that will also need a home soon, too.

I can now see little apples on the very top branches of my Apple/Crabapple tree. I hope I get a bite or two of some of them. The tree's branches are growing on either side of the hydro lines, and the apples are growing at the very top of the branches, so climbing and picking them is not an option. Really, no decision is necessary. I have to wait, and hope that a few apples will drop when they are still in relatively good shape, and that I'll find them before too many other hungry things do, so I can get a bite or two. I don't know what kind of apples they are, but I do know that they're yellow skinned, and the sweetest apples I've ever tasted.

I'm having a great harvest from my chamomile, pennyroyal and roses. It's a difficult decision to harvest the rose petals. If I leave the flowers on the bush, the petals wilt, fade, fall off, and become impossible to use later. If I pick them when they're bright and fresh, I can't sit and enjoy looking at the flowers on the bush. I must say that I'm not agonizing over very petal, but I am glad to say that I'm gardening consciously and deliberately. I do confess that at times it's nice to be out, just letting my mind wander, but there's also a great deal of satisfaction to be had by being present in the garden, and working mindfully, paying attention, and paying gratitude, to everything.  

I do love it when I see the garden preparing for the following year. The raspberries are simultaneously bearing fruit on last year's canes, and sending of strong, tall straight canes for next year. The Tayberry is doing the same, and if I let them, the new stalks, which are thicker then my thumb, will continue to climb upwards of eight feet. This is not convenient, as you can imagine, picking berries eight feet off the ground is no simple task, especially when I'm competing with wasps for the ripe berries. I will nip then ends off these stalks when they get to about five feet high, and I will then train the side shoots to grow on the arbor that I have build for them. Last year, the side shoots where so thick that Cardinals, who have build a nest somewhere on our property for the last 10 years, decided to build their nest nestled in the side shoots that I had secured to the arbor. Unfortunately the babies didn't survive, so I hope that the Cardinals will find a new spot for their nest this year.

My beans are growing, well, they're growing as fast as bean stalks! They'll grab on to and spiral around anything they touch. The tomatoes have finally caught on, and have become ready for support, so I've been putting the cages around them. I've decided this year to keep better control over the tomato side sprouts. Yes, yes, I know, I say that every year, and every year I get these multi-stalked, out of control tomato jungles that are difficult to approach, much less harvest. Well, I really mean it this year! Every day I have been inspecting each tomato stalk, and picking out the tiny sprouts that reappear over night, as if by magic, and the base of every leaf where it meets the stalk. Those plants never give up, no matter how many sprouts I nip from the same spot! Has anyone ever found out how to prevent this?? I for one would love to learn. The plants are now flowering, and a few even have a few tiny baby tomatoes starting to grow.

Another easy decision is to pull out all the mint I can find. One day, many, many years ago, I was thoughtless enough to plant mint in my garden bed. Although I did finally eradicate the spearmint, through thorough and frequent digging, I was not as effective with the ginger mint. Regularly during the season I dig out all the sprouts, trying to take as much root as I can. At the end of every season, I do a really good, careful dig, again trying to remove what I hope will be all the roots. So far the ginger mint continues to regrow, so I have mint to harvest all season. I can harvest wantonly, with abandon, even, all the while being quite sure that it will not be my last mint harvest. Oh well. Tea for all, I say.

After the Rain

Last Wednesday, I was in the garden about 6:30 p.m., when suddenly it seemed as if someone had turned out the lights. It got dark in an instant, and then the wind picked up, and the sky turned that scary green colour that means "take cover, and not under a tree". A fierce storm came through, complete with hail. I was concerned for the garden, fearing the worst for my young seedlings. I was reassured to find that only a few plants were laying down, such as my Lamb's Ears:

  
and they all popped right up again.   Just to the right of the Lamb's Ears are some Lady's Mantle. The shape of their leaves allows them to hold on to water droplets, and they rest on the leaves like sparkling gems:

My trick of propping little guys up with pine cones worked very well, and helped my tomatoes and ground cherries to remain standing throughout the onslaught of wind and hail: 

 
The garlic is now thick and lush. The slender spates have grown into curls as elegant as a swan's neck. Here is one, which grew surrounded by a volunteer copse of Love In a Mist:

 As delicate and romantic as the spates appear, alas, what starts in the garden is often destined to end up on the table. I'm seeing salmon, steamed with lemon, a little freshly cracked pepper, and these spates, photographed beside their cousin, a chive patch in bloom: 

Speaking of volunteers, I continue to be surprised by what sprouts in the garden in what is most often a rather unusual place. I never plant Pennyroyal. Instead, I hunt for the volunteer patches that grow every year. This year they are growing on the path between two of my garden beds. Now I have to tread carefully along my paths, while I train the Pennyroyal to grow in the beds, instead of where I need to walk!


I have a bramble volunteer in one of the containers on my front porch. It sprouted along with the greens that I have sown in the container, hoping to outsmart whatever is eating my greens in the beds at the back of the house.

I'll have to wait until it has some berries, to know exactly what kind of bramble it is. 

I get so many evergreen volunteers, and I don't have the heart to pull them out, so I'll either let them grow in place to get a little stronger, or I'll transplant them to a pot, and hope that I'll find a good home for them. Here's a cedar and two pine trees (although I think one of the pine trees isn't looking so good):

And here's what happens when I don't find a good home for them - I continue to foster them until they are teenagers....

These are some four and five year old cedars, who need a home. If you look carefully, you can see a two year old pine tree peeking out from under the cedar on the left. We have one of these adult trees on our lot - and it's one of the largest pine trees in the neighbourhood.  I am overrun with Lilac and Ironwood seedlings, and I do, with regret pull them out. Please speak up if you would like some.


As for the rest of the garden, it is growing slowly but surely. I have managed to keep some peas safe from the slugs - whether it was the weather, the location or the coffee grounds I suppose I'll never know, but here they are, slowly climbing their trellis.

The gooseberries are looking promising, hanging like beautiful emerald drop earrings:

And the red currants are doing well also, supported this year on tomato cages.

  
Thankfully, the Black Raspberry continues to thrive:

And the Elderberry, Lavender and Peach Roses are ready to bloom:

As much as I love the Sweet Woodruff that's growing in the rock garden, and I did know it would spread, (that's one of the reasons I put it there), I wish I had known that it spreads faster then mint, and makes such a thick carpet that it even out-competes the Forget-Me-Not! Here's the Sweet Woodruff in my rock garden, flanked by some Hyssop, Day Lilies and Carnations. Soon it will have tiny, delicate white flowers.

I could spend whole days in the garden, making tour after tour, always finding something to do on each trip. One tour to see what needs to be done in the next hour, day and week. One tour to dream about what to do next year. There's always another sprout to celebrate, another harvest to bring in, another feeding, another weeding, another staking, another pruning. Another tendril to train, another scent to savour, a few minutes to spend taking in all the different shades of green, and a few more to spend listening to the wind in the trees.