Well, Something's Lost but Something's Gained in Living Every Day

I just love this time of year, when things first start to poke out of the ground. I get to see what has survived the winter, and I go on treasure hunts, looking for plants that have seeded, spread or otherwise popped up in an unexpected place.  

One summer I enjoyed a Datura that thrived on the periphery of one of my garden beds. I hadn’t had a Datura growing for at least 5 years. It must have grown from a seed that had remained viable in the ground for that long, its will to live and its drive to survive stronger then time itself. 
This year I am delighting in the downy soft new growth of catnip,

and I’m happily watching gooseberry volunteers sprouting their thorny selves beside their mother. Last year I worried that I was going to become overtaken by my Lemon Balm, so in the fall I ripped out all my plants, roots and all. I tried to worry that I would have to buy new plants this year, but I just couldn’t muster up a good level of anxiety. Why? Because just as I was pretty sure they would, a few patches of Lemon Balm have already made their presence lustily known, their slightly pebbly new growth gleaming with a deep, luscious green glow. 

Ah, but the losses. My beloved Black Raspberry did not survive. I didn’t think it was such a terrible winter, so I just can’t understand why it died! It was positively luxuriant last year, and sent up very healthy new growth, which I dutifully trained on its arbor all summer and fall.  I had discovered this bramble in the deep shade between my house and the house of my neighbour to the west. It was tiny and twisted, and gave only a few precious berries every year. A few years ago (and I sometimes wonder why it took me so long) I had the brilliant idea to take the tiny, struggling twig of a cane, and transplant it to a proper garden bed where it could enjoy proper sun, water, care and trellising. Well, this plant rewarded me with the most exuberant explosion of growth that you could imagine. It went from producing six berries to 6 cups of berries, and did better every summer. Until, I am now sadly realizing this summer. Now I am combing my property, looking for just one, tiny, thorny volunteer – perhaps from a seed dropped by bird, a squirrel, or even by me. Something thorny is growing in my gooseberry bed. It’s definitely not a gooseberry, I can tell because of the leaves. I have just sold my last jar of Black Raspberry jam, so I’m hoping against hope that what I am watching is a new black raspberry plant reaching towards the light from under my gooseberry bush. 

Speaking about reaching towards the light, I have been crouching daily beside my asparagus bed, delicately scraping away the layers of winter mulch to see if I could detect any indications of growth. Today I discovered asparagus, starting to break the ground! All different sizes and colors  – some thinner, some thicker, some still stark white, some beginning to darken to green, and some even having what seems to be a bit of a purplish cast.  

Something has been nibbling on my pea sprouts, and I’m wondering if I need to protect my asparagus. What should I do? I’ll have to go back to my shelf of garden books. I’m sure Rodale has some advice for me. But nothing ever ate my pea sprouts before! How am I to grow peas if the sprouts keep being eaten to the ground??

It’s now past the last frost date for Toronto, and warm enough at night now, I think, to plant the tomato seedlings. I have grape cluster tomatoes, cherry tomatoes, and some midsize tomatoes. I am staying with smaller tomatoes this year, as I have better luck with them. At the end of the season, I always have so many large green tomatoes. I figured if I stay with smaller ones, they would have a better chance of ripening before the season ended. This year, if I have green tomatoes, I’m going to try a technique I read about. Before the first hard frost, the technique requires that you pull the whole plant out of the ground, and hang it upside down in a cool dark place, such as a cold cellar or garage. Word is that the green tomatoes will ripen. I’m slightly skeptical, but, after picking a few green tomatoes for slicing, breading, and frying, I will have nothing to lose.

So far I have planted 10 tomato seedlings, using lots and lots of my homemade compost. I have also put my home-rotted compost around my raspberry sprouts, on my asparagus bed, and around all my garlic sprouts and new herb patches. I sure hope it’s good compost, or my garden is in big trouble! I’ve spread four large buckets of it, and I have at least eight buckets left. Perhaps more.  After I planted the tomato seedlings up to their necks in holes back-filled with compost, I then take a handful of the huge pine needles I have laying under my trees, and build a little nest on the ground around the base of the plant. I snuggle the needles up against the plant, to help support the leaves. 

I like to think it gives them a bit of protection during their first few days and nights – especially from wind, which they have had only little opportunity to experience. My seedlings were bought from a nursery that stores them outside, so I figured they were already hardened off to some degree, but as I always say, a little support can never go amiss. 

I plan to go big in the lavender department this year, so I augmented my two lavender beds with some new seedlings. My lavender has been spreading, but rather slowly, so I supplemented it’s journey down the side of my driveway. Last year was such an awesome year for the garden, with such a warm, early spring, hot summer, and warm fall. I had three flushes of blooms on my lavender, and on my roses! I will continue to deadhead earnestly, of course, and also send messages of love, support and gratefulness to Gaia, hoping to foster in her warm and generous sentiments which she will translate into a special growing season.

My garden addition this year that I am most excited about is two Sea Buckthorn plants – two two-year-old trees, to be specific. Not only are Sea Buckthorn saplings difficult to find, but trying to source quality plants is even more of a challenge. I found one farm in Ontario that sells beautiful plants, and I am now the proud owner of a “family,” one female tree, and one male tree. Can I really use the word "owner" if I'm referring to new family members?  I have beautiful visions of jars and jars of jam, jelly, and juice. I know I’ll likely only get a handful of berries this year, if any, but I am promised that the trees should be as tall as me in two years, if grown under optimal conditions. I have also been counseled to keep them pruned at about that height, and not let them get taller. Likely because they will become unmanageable. I will definitely keep posting on their progress.  

I have another goal this year, to do something I have not done before, which is to weigh all the produce that comes in from the garden, and keep a record of the weight, and what I did with it, such as eat it, freeze it, dehydrate it (i.e. fruit or vegetables) for future consumption, or dry it (i.e. herbs and flowers) for the production of Arethusa’s edibles and skin care products.

Once again, raccoons have made their presence known in my garden. There is a nicely protected corridor between the last row of berries and my deck. Year after year, the raccoons adopt this spot, to put it bluntly, as their toilet. Each year I try a new way to discourage them.  The “scarecrow” which has a motion detector, and which will send jets of spray at anything that moves within its range of detection, does work well, but if I forget to turn off the water before I go weeding or berry picking, I get quite the hard spray. Sometimes, if I’m lazy, I’ll try to sneak around the scarecrow, but more often then not, I grossly overestimate my skill of being able to sneak about my own garden undetected, and return to the house abashed, and dripping. This year I’m taking a two pronged attack. One, the scarecrow.  Two, I have acquired a large amount of rosebush clippings, and I have constructed a deep pile of them where the raccoons like to go the most.  So far, no “fresh” signs of raccoon visits. May it continue to be so.

There's Life!

Finally, the first day that I can say is truly warm! The sun was hot on my back as I squatted, pulling the first dandelions, thistles and other random weeds from the soft, warming earth. 

My peas have just started to poke out of the ground, at the base of the poles where I have hung netting in anticipation of their need to climb. The green onions and garlic leaves are nicely up, and the Sweet Annie has managed to spread itself everywhere! I'll pull out most of them, keeping just enough for sachets and wreathes.

I've been keeping my eyes on the Golden Raspberries. I put in 10 new canes last year, and 7 of them are sprouting gorgeous green leaves. I wasn't terribly disappointed about the other 3 but it would have been nice for them all to have survived. I knew they would spread, so I just showered the survivors with love and appreciation for toughing out their first winter, hoping to encourage and hearten them. So imagine the delightful surprise when I found some new sprouts a few inches away from two of the dead canes from last year. They had managed to spread some roots that did survive after all! I knew the brambles would spread, but I'm really happy they are doing so right away, filling in the spots that I was sad to think might be bare for another year. I'll just wait a little while to see where my new raspberry canes are going to come up this year, then I'll mulch the bed nice and thick to keep the weeds down. My other, well established bed of red raspberries are right under the giant pine tree, and they don't seem to mind a thick mulch of pine needles around them (oh, the joy of not having to rake them up and move them to a composter!), but there are certainly enough needles to spare for my new raspberry bed. Part of the new bed (the front of it) gets more sun then the back of the bed, and it's interesting to see the significant difference in the rate of growth of the new leaves. I'm sure the ones at the back will catch up though. I just have to give them a little more love (and compost).

I sowed a tray of indoor pots about a week ago, using seeds saved from last year. The okra is already 2" high! I adore growing okra. I have to put it in my south facing beds, right up against the wall of the house where it's warmest. They have the most stunning yellow flowers. I'm not even disappointed if I don't get very much okra to eat. I just love to look at those blossoms. The green onion sprouts are coming up the tray too - I have only two tiny patches that came back in the garden, so my plot needs augmenting. Beets and Swiss Chard are also sprouting. I use them for greens all the way through until frost. I just keep taking off the outer leaves for salad, leaving the inner growth to continue to produce sprouts. I sowed 20 pots of Ground Cherries. I want to have a proper harvest this year. I saved seeds from the plants that produced the largest fruit last year, and I'm holding my breath while waiting for them to surface in my little pots. I'm dreaming of Ground Cherry Jam.

I have a "pot maker" that makes pots from old newspapers. I'll make some soon, for when the sprouts need more room, until I'm sure enough they will be safe to plant outside. Last frost date is May 5, which, now that I think about it, is coming up very soon! I have to get myself to the garden centre soon, too, to get the best pick of the seedlings. It's just so much easier to plant seedlings of zucchini, cucumber and peppers. I can get so many different kinds, and I haven't had luck starting these things indoors. I know it's a less sustainable option, but I look at it this way - I am sustaining the nursery where I can get these healthy and robust plants year after year. I do, however, start my own green beans. Again, I saved seeds from my best plant - a real heavy producer. This year I will spread diatomaceous earth at the base of my bean seedlings, so the slugs won't eat them off at the ground, during the first night after I plant them. 

I'm trying to decide what new plant I'll put in this year. I've been reading the catalogs, trying to make up my mind. I like to try at least one new plant a year - something I've never grown before, to see how it will do in my microclimate.

Is It Spring Yet?

April 14, 2010

Spring seems to be having trouble starting this year. There is a day here and there when the sun feels warm, but then it gets cold again, and they're even calling for snow this weekend!

I planted the sweet green peas last week, after all, soil could be worked, and have eagerly been watching for their emergence. None as of yet.

There are tiny sprouts around the bottom of last years golden raspberry canes. I'm thrilled, since I just planted the canes last year and I didn't know how well the new canes would survive the winter. There are lots of buds on the black currants, and the mache is everywhere.

Oddly enough, I found much of last year's garlic strewn about, lying on top of the garden beds, sprouting. Did the frost do it? If so, that would be a first for me. I gathered them all up and planted them neatly in the bed that held the asparagus peas last year. I don't think I'll have any asparagus peas this year. They're so much work, hard to train, difficult to harvest, and not very flavorful. I'm glad I experimented with them, and every curious gardener should, but despite being able to grow easily from last years seed, and having absolutely gorgeous, tiny, dark red flowers. The novelty has worn off, and this year the bed has been reallocated.  Am I being fickle? Shallow? Disrespectful? Why do I feel uncomfortable when I move on, devoting ground to new vegetables? There's only so much space in the garden. 

I emptied both composters last week. Each was filled about two feet deep with rich, beautiful compost. I spread it out on the beds, dreaming of well fed vegetables that would, in their turn, keep me well fed. I feel so lucky that "compost happens" as they say. It couldn't be much easier, and compost will happen, seemingly pretty much all by itself. 

Plans for this year include lots and lots of herbs, edible flowers and vegetables, especially ground cherries, and cucumbers that I grow on trellises. I love vegetables that climb. No bending for harvest, and I love to train the beautiful spiral tendrils to grab onto the trellis just where I want them to go. The tendrils are so beautiful when they are just emerging, all tightly coiled and covered with downy hairs. It's fascinating how they can just latch on to the trellis and hold there for the whole season.