How Does Your Garden Grow?

I was out for a walk the other day, revelling in the perfection of a sunny spring day, when I noticed an elderly woman working in her yard. She turned to greet me and I said, "Beautiful day, isn't it?" She must have misheard me because she replied with, "Thank you". It was then that I realized that she had a beautiful front garden on the other side of her walkway, jam packed with perrenials coming into bloom. She must have been used to compliments on her garden, which explained her reply. "It will look much nicer in a week or two," she said. "I'll be sure to walk this way again," I said. As I picked up my pace once more, I felt a glow inside my chest. I am truly inspired by people who can create and maintain a beautiful garden. 

From my observations, you either have a green thumb or you don't. Mine is somewhat beige. My middle sister's is a bright shade of Kelly green. She only has to touch a plant and it seems to thrive. When I lived in a house with a yard I did my best to create something of a garden. I did alright with flowers, but my vegetable gardening was limited to a few containers of tomatoes, cucumbers and basil on our south facing deck. I grew some mildy successful garlic in the ground, and, with my husband's help, maintained the raspberry canes and rhubarb that were planted before we lived in the house, but that was it. Once upon a time I had tried to grow a vegetable garden, but I learned that my back didn't respond well to garden work, and I wasn't very successful in any case. Now, on my condo's small deck, I grow a few culinary herbs and some pretty, easy care flowers like geraniums, petunias, and marigolds. In summer I like to eat supper at the little table we have on the deck and enjoy the flowers. 

Even though I don't garden myself, I can see how satisfying it is to grow your own food. I belong to a veggie co-op that was started by a farmer friend. She is an excellent gardener. Both her thumbs, and probably her big toes, too, are bright green. Her daughter has inherited her love of growing food and is now making it her life's work. I feel so lucky to benefit from her hard work and her aptitude for farming. By the end of May I will be picking crunchy lettuces, mild, sweet spinach, and crisp red radishes, not to mention long ruby stalks of rhubarb.

I live in a very rich food-growing area, famous for its berries. Soon there will be luscious strawberries followed by plump raspberries (my favourite) and toothsome blueberries in abundance for sale in the many stands along the rural roads of my region. We are blessed to have a long season of weekly farmers markets with everything from fresh veggies and fruit to baked goods, canned jellies and jams, local honey, and flowers. Even though I sometimes wish I had the ability to grow my own food, I would say that I make many a local grower happy by purchasing from them. That has to count for something in the food chain.  

I have a niece who is an accomplished gardener. I asked her once if it was possible to both love gardens and loathe gardening. She said, yes, that's why she is employed by people who don't want to or can't do it themselves. When I had a yard to care for, I had a love-hate relationship with it. I wanted the results, but the ongoing work to maintain it was a challenge. On the other hand, I had a friend who loved working in the yard so much that as she aged she decided she had to set a timer for one hour so she wouldn't overdo it. Another friend was so dedicated to her garden that she got up every day in summer at 5:30 to beat the heat and work in her garden. I am a little bit ashamed that I am never going to be one of those people. If I were wealthy and had a house again, I would tend a little patch of flowers and leave the rest of the yard to the professionals. 

If you're a dedicated gardener, I salute you. I'll walk by your house and feel that glow in my chest that comes from appreciating the beauty of your work. I hope you know that. 

'til next time, 

Rebecca

On the First Day of Summer I....

...took some photos and spent as much time out of doors as I could manage. Our June has been a rainy one with the sunny days few and far between. We are nearing the end of a vast stretch of two in a row and I know the plants are enjoying reaching up to a sun that is free enough of cloud to reach equally down to them. Despite the rains we have growth, particularly of the lawn and weeds, and blossoms. The roses and chives have been quite happy, the heat loving basil not so much.

A rainy June is typical for this part of the country, and preferable, to me anyway, to the scorching temperatures and horrible humidity presently suffered by friends in Ontario. One such friend is pregnant and due in September. On Facebook the other day, she asked the question: "Highly pregnant + heat wave = a dress made of ice packs. C'mon wardrobe folk, anyone got one?" Several suggestions from the sublime to the ridiculous ensued and, as usual, my friend provided comedic relief for all her many connections, while on this side of the country I was serving warm soup for supper and wondering if my shorts and sundresses would see the light of day anytime soon.

As it happens, it was warm enough for shorts by late afternoon yesterday as I wandered around the garden looking for subjects. The bees were busy as, well, bees in the raspberries, which love a wet spring followed by a sunny stretch in which to ripen. I'm crossing my fingers...

What they say about roses loving garlic seems to be true, and I look forward to harvesting our little crop in July. For now, there is some new garlic available at the farmer's market which takes place in a downtown parking lot every Thursday afternoon from June through September.

When I had finished wandering around the garden taking photos, I decided to do some 'small g' gardening. Of course, being a blogger, I had to take some photos of my equipment:

The knee pad really makes weeding and planting more comfortable

This bucket fills quickly with weeds and clippings and has to be
emptied into the green waste compost at the back of the yard often.

 

When I was done my hour of weeding and trimming, I went back into the house to serve a supper of blessed leftovers. I retired early to bed with my chosen novel. I believe the bulk of my summer reading should be light and escapist, the kind of stories in which the sun shines on the Grecian pines and white sand beaches, and where the rain only happens in suitably romantic moments. This section of my bookshelf fits the bill. Guess which one I'm on? 

Happy Summer!

Gardening with a Small 'g'

I am what I call a small 'g' gardener living in a town full of Big 'G' gardeners. Agriculture is one of the mainstays of our community and the evidence is to be found in the home gardens, the community gardens and the parks all around me. When we'd first moved here from the wilds of Vancouver Island, I phoned my mother and cried, "Mom, I'm living in a place where everyone seems mainly to care about their lawns being perfect. What am I going to do here?" She assured me I would find my kind, and I did, but in the meantime I had to pull up my socks in the lawncare department. At least it gave me something to do before I found employment.

Just what defines the small 'g' gardener? The small 'g' gardener thrills to see the bulbs she planted haphazardly around the place flowering in March and April, but by mid-April she notices the weeds springing up in the cracks of the driveway and in every bare place in the garden. She focusses on the daffodils and tulip buds and thinks 'success!' But when her Big 'G' gardener friend points out the buttercup and dandelions and says, 'You'd better get to those before they take over,' she sighs, 'I know' before she goes inside and finds something more attractive to do.

The small 'g' gardener loves the idea of gardening. She even likes to work outside in the blossoming fragrant months of April and May, and enjoys picking rhubarb and raspberries in the early hours of sunlit dewy summer mornings. Picking slugs, however? Far less appealing. She is motivated enough to plant and weed the garlic patch and harvest the mint for drying, but it is her husband who babies the raspberry canes which thrive under his care. Working together, the small 'g' gardener and her husband plant their few containers of tomatoes, cucumbers, flowers and herbs on the south facing deck off the kitchen. This is the co-operative gardening she doesn't mind. Left to herself, she's not sure those containers would make their way out of the shed year after year.

The small 'g' gardener wishes, truly, that she cared more. She wishes it meant everything to her to grow her own food, but she has to face facts: unless the produce shop shuts down and the farmers market ceases to exist she will just not see the point. Why grow her own food when all those other people, those Big 'G' gardeners, do it so much better than she ever could? She knows people who, as winter comes to a close, just cannot wait to get their hands in the earth. Somehow the small 'g' gardener has been born without that gene. Every day when she walks her daughter to school she passes the impeccable garden of the Dutch-born couple around the corner. That couple are out there every chance they get, pruning, weeding, planting, mowing, trimming, harvesting, dead-heading, manicuring, and smiling their beautiful Big 'G' gardener smiles. Little 'g' smiles back, eternally humbled but ever admiring their handiwork - because she loves pretty gardens planted with the skill of an artist painting a picture, or an architect designing a cathedral. She reveres people who are born with the enviable green thumb. If gardening had a varsity squad, she'd be its cheerleader. "Go team go!" she'd shout from the sidelines waving her tri-coloured pom-poms. "2,4,6,8, who do we appreciate? Gardeners, gardeners, rah, rah, rah!"

Somehow, however, the enthusiasm of the small 'g' gardener is not enough to turn her thumb from the dullest, quietest shade of green. She simply hasn't got the talent for the big leagues, nor the necessary drive. Small 'g' will carry on, however, keeping up appearances for the sake of peace in the neighbourhood and her own self-respect. She will get out there with her trowel and her weed bucket, her gloves and hat, and wage war on the driveway invaders. She will trim the cedar shrubs and give the boxwoods their biannual haircut. She will plant the front flowerbed with impatiens because the slugs leave those alone and they do look very pretty. She will make somewhat of an effort with the buttercup because, let's face it, they are winning, and water the container garden when needed (although it will be her husband who remembers to water twice on hot days). And she will not hate working in the garden, no, but she will also not absolutely love it.

Such is the fate of the small 'g' gardener. I've learned to live with it.

The photo above is of the last of our 2011 Roma tomatoes. They were quite respectable.
Happy weekend to all you gardeners, big and small.