Showing posts with label Wild Area. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Wild Area. Show all posts

Thursday, 14 May 2020

Potted Cacti Plus Our Garden's Wild Area

The same acquaintance who gave us all those miniature dormant roses this past winter had bestowed upon us a couple of potted cacti earlier in the autumn. Echinopsis oxygona, known as Easter Lily cactus, also called the sea urchin cactus, has fragrant, lavender-pink blooms with long floral tubes which are pollinated by moths. Flowering overnight, they give quite a show the following morning though they are not long-lasting, wilting shortly afterwards. The smaller pot is filled with massed, small candle shapes with bright, orange-red flowers. I am guessing they are Echinopsis chamaecereus whose common name is the peanut cactus. Most cacti are from and adapted to dry regions, though a few thrive in tropical and subtropical areas. After their photo shoot, they were returned to a deeply recessed, south-facing sous sol window sill so as to be sheltered from any surprise rain and to get as much solar heat as possible.


When being gazed from directly above, the Easter Lily cactus flower bears some resemblance to a lotus.


Most of its 'stem' is hollow.


Though pollinated by moths, another type of insect, most likely a bee, was having fun inside the deep interior. It was stumbling about, its head well dusted with pollen, so much so, that it just might be possible there's a tiny, mirrored vanity plus a pot of loose powder replete with a puff hidden in the floral tube's depths! It then climbed up with the help of a very impressive stigma to the petal area.


When our acquaintance was giving me the pots and snipping off bits from an extensive collection flanking an eaves-shielded, south-facing side of her house, The Calm One was visually communicating from our Zoe the Electric Car via subtle facial expressions that he had been ready to depart about a half a hour ago. Therefore the giving of cacti care info was very briefsun, not much water. The first on-hands lesson once arriving chez nous was painfully learning that wearing leather gloves when intimately handling cacti as in potting up (use a mix just for cacti!) any remnants is essential, not to mention that skin punctures can result in irritation or rashes. After all, those sharp structures are protective against animals chomping on the plant. In general, cacti can not tolerate temperatures much below freezing and during summer, may need watering as frequently as twice weekly. This winter was mild, but if necessary, they may have to go into the cold frame in the future. A small amount of balanced liquid fertiliser should be added to the watering can. To snip off blooms, cut just above the fuzzy base which eventually will become more of the plant.


The garden was neglected for two years before we acquired the property a decade ago. I knew I had to pace myself in getting it into reasonable shape. Being on a limited budget at that time, my priority was to grow food which I never had done so the learning curve was steep, actually the incline turned out to be dizzying. So when I noticed a patch of brambles growing under the dying cherry tree, I decided, ah, let it go for a while. Well that while stretched out further into time than desired, and seeing growth midway up to my height, I decided, let it be. The wild area was born. Ivy, laurel, Italian arum, sweet violets, honeysuckle, bay laurel, blue bells, and leather-leafed viburnum were either already there, seeded from elsewhere, or planted from cuttings/divisions of existing established plants. Mostly the earth was uncovered and the wire fence perimeters open to viewing from the outside. Today, it's the reverse. It's hard to catch a glimpse of soil (except for the veggie beds) or sneak much of a peak into what is a lush garden with sturdy, mature green 'bones' like ivy, laurel, and bay laurel. In the below photo, on the left, blackberry and raspberry bushes signal the end of the cultivated garden while on the right, brambles and sweet violets announce the wild area's beginning.


Looking towards the east (I am standing amidst a riot of honeysuckle), right into the heart of the wildest part of this less tended part of our verdant paradise, I know that thorns would stop me from just going where I want to go, so the path surrounding this tall mass of green often alive with a great many starlings will be followed. The more open area is where prunings are put while awaiting chipping and compost piles do their thing.


This is the most eastern edge of the wild area; that bit of white is a large shed that used to house the previous owners' recreational vehicle and now is filled with lavender cuttings waiting to be chipped and various junk, all topped with a sagging roof. Beautifully hidden, I say!


A little further west, the shed's entrance can be spied.


Here's a closeup of the honeysuckle growing over a hedge and sprawling on the ground. My horticultural perpspective is to keep only a small part of the wild area truly unkept while the outside edges are pruned so it's a surprise when the garden's central cement path is followed to its end to see just how woodsy it becomes. Remember that dying cherry tree? Its chopped up branches circle the bramble-covered thick trunk, all rotting away which is excellent for fungi and for emitting a forest fragrance. I regard extension lopers and line strimers as sculpture tools to undulate emerald waves and shape green geometry. I just love how ongoing it all is as I am guided by what nature is doing.


À la prochaine!

Thursday, 14 June 2018

Summer Is Right Around The Corner . . .

In about a week, it will be officially summer. There has been consistent rains for the last month which has delayed garden tasks that would have been best done before June such as sowing annual flowers like varied-coloured, long-term-flowering cosmos and zinnias; the last of the edible crops, graceful, stylish Tuscan kale with its smoky green-black leaves; fast-growing cover crops like mustard and tansy to revive the completely harvested pea beds (they provided about 5 litres of pods!). Hopefully, if we can believe the forecast, the next week will be sunny and the soggy soil should be workable fairly soon so those postponed tasks can be eventually completed. Regardless, the garden is humming along, with beloved-by-the bees, aromatic lavender, punchy poppies that reseed themselves through the years, and haughty Queen Elizabeth roses.


The potato variety, Daifla, flowers profusely. (That's the raspberry patch in the background, and if you look closely you will see the berries.) Potato blooms signify that the tubers are being formed. In about two months, when the haulms (the growth above ground) have wilted yellow, it will be time to harvest.


The dark green of ivy makes a good backdrop for rhubarb and potatoes. In the upper left, a drooping branch of a Mirabelle plum tree can be seen with its immature fruit looking like green olives. When ripe, they will be a glorious gold flushed with red.


Most of our potato blooms are pure white but there are a few which are tinted mauve. An interesting aside is that Marie Antoinette, a passionate lover of flowers, was known to have tucked some potato blossoms in her hair during the time Antoine Parmentier was trying to convince the movers and shakers that the New World upstart wasn't poisonous. 


Every other day, there's enough raspberries, strawberries, and blueberries to fill up the dessert bowl. Since blueberries must have acid soil to flourish, our bush is grown in a pot with the desired potting mix.


The rambunctious wild area which harbours lizards, hedgehogs, birds, and insects is festooned with bramble blossoms. The middle bed is filled with bushy Roma tomato plants and in front of them are beets which since have seen the trusty cultivator tool which has cleared away the prolific clover.


During a month these well-established daylilies put out many blooms, each lasting just a day. There are cultivars which are everblooming from early summer to autumn which will soon find a place in our garden.


David Austin climbing rose, Falstaff, is beginning a second round of flowering.


In the front garden, yet more lavender and also Shasta daisies are just starting to bloom. The other day, our neighbour across the street told me that she loves seeing, as does her visitors, the small green haven in front of our home. After all this time, it is known by a few that je jardine comme une folle (I garden like a madwoman). The English lavender is putting on the show right now while the late-blooming French lavender waits to take the spotlight in about a month.


From the vantage point of a reclining, cushy chair under the pergola, this is what I get to see: foliage of mums, rose of Sharon, calla lilies, ivy, two enormous, neighbouring spruce trees, and the imperious blooms of a Queen Elizabeth rose. All of this exuberant growth exists in an urban space. Though I can hear the distant din of traffic, I pretend that it's the sound of ocean waves.


À la prochaine!

Wednesday, 8 June 2016

Walk on the Wild Side . . . and various harvests

There's an area sized about forty-feet-wide and fifteen-feet-deep in the back of the garden that has been allowed to go wild for several reasons: food and perch for birds; sanctuary for hedgehogs, insects, and lizards; cover for an old cherry tree stump and a shed.

A gutted tree of heaven

Eventually, a path will go behind the brambles, in front of the large and completely hidden shed. This overgrown space also has tons of ivy, some comfrey (an excellent compost accelerator), and two trees of heaven (or hell would be more descriptive). They can grow up to ninety feet tall and spread by seeding and through rooting. Not to mention they smell of rotten cashews. Having a woodsy path is wonderful on its own, but cutting a swath around the brambles allows my gutting these trees to leafless stumps from time to time with the hope their roots eventually will die.

Raspberry & rhubarb fronting Brambleville

Directly across the central garden path there is a working area consisting of slow & fast compost piles and a tangle of honeysuckle.

That's a fig tree in the upper left corner

Dirac the Cat (no longer Dirac the Kitten or Dirac the Young Cat) who is just about two years old loves to stalk this area and we love that he is now on tick in addition to flea medicine.

The fragrant honeysuckle graciously covers a pile of pruned branches 

He enjoys all kinds of baths, dirt, gravel, and grass, just don't mention water.


The first crop of raspberries are developing. The fruits are on trimmed canes that bore berries last season. A second flush will happen in late-summer via fresh growth.


Three and a half veggie beds remain to be planted within the next two weeks to accommodate shelling beans, green beans, parsnips, cavolo nero (black kale), arugula, beets, and carrots.

Onions, shallots, garlic, tomatoes, late & early-season potatoes, sweet red peppers

Most of the pea pods have been picked. This is the month when the inclusion of our own produce in meals starts increasing. And it is the time we impatiently look forward to during late-winter/early spring which is usually when our stores have run out.


The early-season potatoes are just coming in, not enough on their own for potatoes dauphinoise, so they were added to our supermarket cache.

Engorged with cream and flavoured with garlic, thyme, parsley & bay leaf

Our own peas were added to store-bought carrots. We had them and the gratin with pot roast of lamb.

Garden-fresh peas are essentially green candy

À la prochaine!

Wednesday, 18 May 2016

Fresh Garlic . . . and more May flowers

Our main garlic crop was planted just a few weeks ago, but there were some cloves sowed last autumn so the mellow sweetness of fresh garlic is available presently for the table. Very little skin and an undivided bulb makes for easy preparation.

The major planting will be harvested in July, then dry-cured for storage

Because The Calm One doesn't measure ingredients for his splendid Three-Cheese & Three-Pasta speciality, he sometimes has a surplus of cooked penne, shells, and corkscrews. The cleaned, trimmed, and roughly chopped garlic along with the cold pasta, thyme, and Parmesan got tossed with olive oil plus a good sprinkle of apple cider vinegar. A dusting with fleur de sel/freshly ground black pepper was the final touch for this easy dish boasting the health benefits of resistant starch (reheating would result in an even greater decrease of a spike in blood sugar).

Though its flavour is more delicate, fresh garlic's flesh is juicy and meaty

Our garden and potager continues to embrace spring. The ivy's new growth is brightening up the pergola.


Honeysuckle joins the ivy in another corner. Through the haze of the asparagus bed's feathery foliage, a neighbour's tall evergreen (not a church steeple!) can be seen.

Ferdinand Pichard, a fragrant, bi-coloured Bourbon rose

The wild area is not only good for biodiversity, but for beauty as it completely covers an old shed. If you look closely, you will see a neigbour's black and white, long-haired cat (Elmo is our nick for him) rolling in the sun between the raspberry patch and a dilapidated cold-frame overgrown with weeds. Perhaps this is the season I will mulch the frame with cardboard!

Iris foliage, glads, newly planted garlic & shallot bed, to-be weeded bed, pea & potato beds

Coming from the back of the garden, I always enjoy seeing this lovely melange of plants before my dipping inside the sous-sol to put back/get tools.

Creeping sedum, bee-loving abelia, perennial geraniums, bearded irises, calla lilies & roses

Along one side of our house, a path winding through flowering sage, yet-to-flower rosemary, already bloomed sweet violets, bearded irises, hardy mini-gladiolus, and roses leads to the front garden lit by the setting sun.


Our entrance includes a stairway leading up past the sous-sol to a balcony which affords a lofty view of the front garden.

Weigela, soapwort, yellow rose & lavender

Entwined with the balcony railing is the robust, velvety, deep-crimson, and potently perfumed climbing rose, Étoile de Hollande.


Dirac the Young cat left his sentinel position on the doormat to supervise my pruning.


À la prochaine!