Easing Into Late Summer 2019

All that frenzied, early morning watering done during the canicules (heatwaves), one in June, the other in July, paid off. The garden has held on to most of its lushness. The basket of lobelia which was sowed early spring still captivates as it moves gently with the breeze under the pergola and looks that it will remain doing so through August and September. Perhaps a moderate trim, about one third up from the bottom, will be in order to keep it looking fresh.

Sitting in the pergola's low recliner enables my seeing a nice slice of sky framed between two spruces located on a neighbouring business property and the tops of two pots, each placed on an upturned urn, flanking the start of our back garden's central path.

The pot closest to me is one of black-eyed Susan vine nestled in a rose of Sharon which self-seeded very close to an ivy-covered pillar. A much more robust rose of Sharon is in the right-hand corner of the below photo.

After doing some strenuous gardening like digging up two sunny beds of mid-season Rosabelle potatoes (yellow flesh, pink skin, all-purpose), I rush to the shady pergola and collapse on a lounge chair, removing my sun-protection gear of hat and glasses.

As I catch my breath and cool off with a glass of iced coffee, I can see the lovely blue and green glass balls placed in the blueberry pot situated across from me on the sunny part of the patio. They are hand blown and originally were used to float fishing nets. The blue one most likely is from Norway and the green one from Japan. The former was bought in a Grenoble flea market twenty years ago and the latter from an Oregon shop ten years earlier than its Norwegian companion. Both of these breakaway floats took decades to reach French and American shores. They managed not to shatter during our many relocations. This was the season they were liberated from a dusty sous sol corner, cobwebs wiped off, and washed with the garden hose. They are happy and so am I.

Part of my rest is an amble around the house.  The pergola flanks the west side, so up I go and say hello to pots of lobelia on a series of grilled sous sol window sills.

Making a sharp turn at an intersection of the side and front gardens, I mosey on up the front stairs leading to the entrance balcony. On the way I stoop to get a whiff of the fragrant, cascading tuberous begonia comfy on a small sous sol window sill.

Onto the balcony where pots of lobelia and Japanese holly are doing well.

The lobelia is flourishing in its big container.

Back down the stairs I go and make a sharp right onto the small, undulating path just shy of the overhanging balcony where I see late-blooming lavender 'Hidcote Giant' on the left and a pink hydrangea on the right. This lavender is much taller than 'Hidcote' which finished putting out its blue spikes a month ago. The taller variety hasn't bloomed much since our arrival ten years ago. I had blamed the dearth of flowers on its somewhat shady location. Since I started watering consistently and everywhere last summer, boy, what a flower display this month of August! Almost as abundant as the shorter bushes. Don't ever underestimate the power of water for a garden. Further down, across the driveway, is a potted collection of shade-loving gardenia, tuberous begonia, hellebore, and various heucheras with differently coloured foliage from lime green to paprika sheltering themselves from the sun under a cherry plum tree and a box elder. Mostly shady, that is, until late afternoon, when that spot gets a sudden burst of short-lived sunlight.

À la prochaine!

RELATED LINK

Glass From The Past | Fishing Floats Documentary

Unblocking Food Potential of Small Gardens

Bearded Irises will be in full bloom in several weeks

Young pea shoots are one of the earliest harvests of all.  About two/three weeks later after sowing, thinning out the pea bed results in a good amount of succulent three-inch-high shoots.  

Though they can be eaten raw in salads, my favourite way is to sauté two cups of loosely packed, sliced, and washed pea shoots (shoots pinched off at the ground usually are entirely edible, however check for any fibrous lower stems requiring trimming) with minced garlic and some red pepper flakes in about a tablespoon of olive oil over medium heat in an omelette pan for about five to seven minutes till tender.  Scoop out the greens and reserve in a small bowl.  The residual olive oil should suffice.  Pour into the skillet three beaten eggs.  

While omelette is setting (lift up the perimeter bit by bit with a spatula to let liquid egg seep underneath), spread evenly the tender pea shoots and grated Gruyére on top, leaving about an inch around the edge free of topping.  Cover and leave on low heat for about a minute or two till the cheese melts, and then fold one half over the other with a spatula and slide onto a plate.  Cooked shoots taste somewhat like oriental greens. However, when consumed raw, they retain a fresh pea taste.

Pea shoots turn dark green resembling spinach when cooked

A rough estimate is--if we could even find veggies/fruits of similar quality and variety--it would cost us about ten thousand dollars annually to buy what we grow.  Might as well toss in the equivalent of a gym membership and weekly therapy sessions as gardening keeps me both physically fit and mentally sane.  Well, at least, a bit saner. 

Block-bed style, whether raised or not, is advantageous for small gardens because more can be grown, crop rotation is made simple, and preparation/maintenance of planting areas can proceed gradually and orderly.  Block beds can still be framed but not raised.  I have framed my level, thirteen 4-foot-by-12-foot beds with terracotta roofing tiles.  There was a small mountain of them heaped next to a dead cherry tree.  I began with just one bed off in a corner and gradually through two years, with the help of the Calm One, there is a good portion of our garden in a food-producing state.  Framing the beds this way is borrowing from the French approach of parterre, lending a pleasing structure to our garden.

The Calm One devised this string template to guide shaping rectangular beds

Tiles keep oak-leaf mulch neatly in place in centre bed

Paths between the beds need to be wide enough--at least a width of two feet--to allow for the passage of wheel barrows and to be able to kneel easily between beds.  Various weeds and grasses covering the paths are kept trimmed with my blue buddy, an lithium-battery-powered line strimmer.

Taking a much deserved rest

Horticultural fleece can be tucked easily under the tiles.  Fleece is so useful.  It protects crops from surprise frosts, extends the growing season, stops birds and other animals from eating/disturbing seeds, and protects against insects, especially carrot fly.  Fleece allows both sunshine and water to pass through.  I use the biodegradable form which lasts about two to three years, and then can be composted.  Tiles hold down flattened cardboard when I sheet compost (using the weeds already growing in place as a source of compost).

Living in a small city is convenient for finding discarded large cartons

The tiles act as slug traps.  Slugs crawl under them during the day to escape the sun.  I go down the sides of the beds, partially lifting up tile by tile, scrapping the slugs into a can of water.  Once drowned, they go on the compost pile.  But the real reason for the tiles is that Dayo insists on having a solid, dry surface to walk on.

Dayo strolling between the garlic and onion beds

Since veggies are grown so close together in block beds, the plants themselves act like a mulch, conserving moisture and retarding weed growth while looking attractively bushy.  Because I usually fill a bed with an particular veggie, it is not necessary for me to label the plantings. Each year, I make a rotation plan of what will grow in which bed covering three main harvests each year as my focus is intensive gardening, that is, getting the most food out of our garden.

One drawback so far is when hilling plants, like potatoes and strawberries, there is not enough spare soil since block beds are planted so densely.  Spacing strawberries a bit farther from each other than usual works a treat, and for potatoes I use compost and grass clippings to ensure that the growing potatoes will not poke up and turn green because of light exposure.  Another drawback is when initially weeding--before the bed can fill out and act as a living weed-suppressing mulch--it is best to forgo long-handled tools and get at the weeds up close with smaller tools.

Monsieur M often says when he spots me lightly spading a block bed, use the spading fork, it will be easier.  I tell him in my broken French that because I never walk on the beds, the soil is loose and it is easy using a spade.  He always looks puzzled and doubtful--no idea if it because of my badly spoken French, or he just does not believe me, or what is most likely, he is teasing me.  In any case, the frequent fork suggestion has become a precious part of my gardening routine, never failing to leave a smile on my face.

RELATED LINKS

Sowing Peas

Spring in My Step, Not Quite in the Air

The following morning of a surprise, six-inch-deep snowfall saw my marking out rough footpaths while wearing the Calm One's Wellies.  On my small feet, they looked and felt like black clown shoes.  However, they are a treat to remove. I just flick them off with a sharp motion, and they go flying to a corner of the mudroom.  My quirky, snow-clearing technique was notably faster than  Monsieur M's, our kind and gracious neighbour, whose painstakingly cleared paths made me suspect a toothbrush was hidden along with his brooms, shovels, and ice breakers.

The time I saved was used setting out food and water for the birds while monitoring the location of our young tabby cat, Dayo.  Not much into hunting, he had little interest in birds, but was quite taken by their food.  The majority of birds in my winter garden are insectivores requiring a high protein diet, and thoroughly moistened, dry cat food is the purrfect meal ticket.  Sounds odd, I know. My initial reluctance faded when the food was merrily devoured, that is, by the birds, not Dayo.

For a couple of weeks each short winter, one of my morning chores is to smash with a hammer the solid ice in their bath.  Monsieur M sweetly assures me that they drink the snow, but I remain doubtful.  A well tended birdbath is essential for co-habitation.  Birds will often eat fruit to quench their thirst.  I may not always feed them since our hot season is so long, but each day they get at least two fresh baths. I get to see their antics during bath time plus I  harvest more fruit, especially my favourite, luscious figs!

Telling the difference between good and bad laziness is a cherished skill.  My choice of snow clearance was an expression of my good laziness.   I know, because a little bird, well, actually, many little birds told me.  Although, the major benefit was just the fun of it.   Being a slow-moving, human snowplough got me in a mood receptive for creative connections.  Eventually, I realised that I could use my oversized, booted feet as a drawing tool writ large.  Duly photographed, this free-form design will guide my creating a sinuous style for the new orchard, providing a soft foil to the rectangular block beds containing vegetables.

What happened to the snowplough and drawing tool?  They happily snuggled into some nice warm slippers.