summer, anyone?

If you're anywhere in the northeastern States or Southern Ontario, you're almost certainly experiencing one heck of a nice holiday weekend. I cannot believe the weather we're having. It feels slightly wrong, even -- temperatures in the high twenties, gorgeous sun, and it's not even close to May yet. I recall snowstorms on the Victoria Day weekend in May, and I'm not old enough to be saying that sort of thing yet. Cold, wet, unpredictable springs are more the norm here than gorgeous, sunny, dry ones.

But I've been taking advantage. The raised bed is ready for its plants, and I intend to put the first round of beets and lettuce in tomorrow. I've planted the peas. I have no idea what is going to happen with the peas, because everything I've seen about planting peas suggests different things. Soak them, don't soak them. Plant them in dry soil. Plant them in moist soil. Plant them early. Plant them just before the last frost date. The only thing people seem to agree on is that peas are cool-weather crops -- but just what that means, they can't agree on.

Whatever. I had no luck with peas last year, period. I have planted 10 pea seeds, and I'm hoping for at least three plants. They're all sugar snaps and I'm really looking forward to snacking on them. We've been trying to cultivate a habit of eating veggies for snacks.

We're attempting a new method of mulching this year, involving newspaper covered in natural cedar mulch around the flower beds. The weather's caused the weeds to go nuts already, although there is this year a corresponding amount of nuttiness from the rest of the plants. When it cools off later this week (frost, even!) there's going to be some frantic running around covering things, I'm afraid.

Meanwhile, upstairs in the sunroom there are little basil plants and little tomato plants making themselves happy. The tomatoes are even growing their first set of true leaves. It looks, however, like I'm going to have to purchase pepper plants this year -- the peppers I started over a month ago have yet to germinate.

But, having seen a phoebe in the backyard this afternoon, I will not complain about recalcitrant peppers; I am very, very glad it is spring.

not dead yet!

*pokes a little at the blog*

Oooh, it is still alive!

Okay, so yes. If you follow this blog and not my other, you can be forgiven for thinking I might be dead. The truth is, I have been hibernating a bit this winter as far as birdwatching and gardening sorts of things go. I have been cooking a little bit, but there hasn't been anything newsworthy (other than my decision, based on one mostly successful experiment, that the slow cooker is probably the way to go ALWAYS). I haven't even really been reading much that would be relevant here, although I should report that I am in love with Lucy Waverman's new cookbook, A Year in Lucy's Kitchen. I have not yet tried a recipe by her that hasn't turned out, even the ones that are a little tricky.

But we are closing in on the end of February, and my little calendar is telling me that this weekend is the time to plant my hot peppers. We had a day last week that even smelled a little bit like spring. Then we had a snowstorm, but I am watching the buckets of snow melting in a steady drip out the window right now. In a couple of weeks no doubt the Dutch iris will be peeking up, and the snowdrops. I will be able to find out if my new redbud and the two-year-old Kentucky coffee tree made it through the winter. Two and a half weeks from now I'll be looking at planting tomatoes and basil. We have a new wheelbarrow, lots of mulch waiting, and I have plans starting to take shape in my head. Bring it on, March!

dividing hostas: wtf, internet?!

Okay. So I have been working under the presumption for several years now that hostas are best divided in the early spring, before they start to grow their leaves. I have seen this advice in books and all over the internet, from people who know plants and from people who know hostas specifically.

Now to be fair, I have never divided or transplanted a hosta myself, so the truth of the matter is that I have only book knowledge about this. But it's almost early spring, and damned if I'm going to let the hostas in the front bed go another year looking awesome in the spring and getting the awesomeness sun-blasted out of them by late June. It's not good for the hostas and it's not good for my gardening ego, either.

So I'm thinking, probably need to be doing something about this in the next couple of weeks. I can't remember when the hostas started to get their leaves last year, but I'm thinking transplanting time will be late March, early April for those babies. But then I think, let's double-check that. Let's make sure that I know when the best time to transplant hostas is. Let's make sure I know how to do it.

Previously, any info I have seen says "early spring! early spring! best for plant!" So why, internet, is all the information I see from you this morning saying "late summer! late summer! best for plant!"

Late summer is over, internet. I cannot possibly let those hostas go by another summer. They will gall me every time I see them and they are right by my front door, so I will see them a lot. Why didn't you tell me this last spring, when I was thinking about transplanting the hostas and ultimately not doing it at all because I thought I'd missed my chance?

It's too late, internet. I don't care what you say now. I'm transplanting those hostas this spring. As I am doing it, I am going to think to myself, "These are plants. Plants want to grow. I could probably divide them in July and they would still grow. They might hate me, and look awful for the rest of the summer, but they would still grow."

on my mark, get set...

75 posts! Soon I will be at 100. Certainly this summer, given the amount of posting I'm likely to do in the spring.

We managed to get the grapes trimmed today. It's quite lovely outside, and we're home to do so. I don't think we were too late (thus avoiding causing damage) so it should work out. It will be more controlled growth this year, and faster shade cover than the first year we were here, when we didn't really have shade over the back porch until late June or early July. And now, as noted, I declare garden season open!

The grapes are only going to provide the cover from above. So this year, I am going to try (one more time) to plant morning glories. I don't know why I can't get those stupid things to grow, but they just won't. I am considering, however, going with something more like a scarlet runner bean -- aside from the fact that the beans themselves are edible and extremely easy to grow, apparently the red flowers do attract hummingbirds. I've also been looking at cardinal vines, a morning glory relative (in the Ipomea genus) that reportedly is also very attractive to hummers. My one concern is going to be that in warmer climates it's an invasive... I figure if I grow it in a couple of containers, I should be okay. And possibly keep on top of seeds. But everything I've read suggests I'll be lucky if it actually flowers, let alone sets seed.

The other option, which is one I have considered before, is moonflower. It would be scented at night, and we do use that back porch a fair bit at night. So that might be a good idea, too. Although I really love night flowering tobacco for scent, too.

Decisions, decisions! I love it. This is possibly the best time of the year in the garden, when I don't have to actually weed anything -- things just grow in my imagination.

hooray for birds!

When I woke up this morning, I heard a sound that I haven't heard in ages. And when one hasn't heard it in ages, one notices when it comes back.

Birdsong!

The chickadees were singing. Just a little bit, and not their usual "chickadee-dee-dee" but the sweet sounds of their mating call...

We all know what this means, of course. Spring is on the way. YES!! Despite what the groundhogs saw (Punxsutawney Phil saw his shadow, thus six more weeks of winter), spring is on the way. I believe it. Even if there are six more weeks of winter, one of those I will be spending in the sunshine. Take that, snow!

I do love the winter, don't get me wrong. But I'm like those birds. I'm starting to get a little itch in my gardening fingers that signifies the days are getting longer. Sunday was, in fact, wonderfully mild. My gardening fingers are planning on ordering some seeds in the next couple weeks. I bought a new set of gardening gloves (I can't find the other ones, although I'm sure I will as soon as I start getting the tools out).

This week sometime fishy and I will get out to trim the grapes. That will be my first official gardening act of the year. And then I will declare garden season open.

Vesey's Seeds arrived!

I think Vesey's is trying to ruin me. How? Well, let me count the ways:

1. I love winter. Now I want it to be over.
2. Financially. Currently I want everything in the catalogue.
3. My relationship may not survive the number of plants I want to add to the garden this year.

I also have to remember to buy my seeds from the local providers, if I can; I should really be saving Vesey's for the rare, hard-to-get stuff.

Also I just remembered I haven't protected the currant. I bet that the rabbits have already eaten it. The dogwood was free, so I don't mind so much, but I'm going to be very disappointed if they kill my currant.

backyard bugs

Today it is quite warm out there. I am technically working on an essay today, but I did manage to get out and weed one of the veggie beds... while out there, witnessed a black swallowtail laying her eggs on my carrots. Super exciting! I am torn between leaving the single egg I could find out there to fend for itself naturally, or bringing it inside to be coddled into adulthood by me. I think I might leave it out there, since that's really the way things should be. But the caterpillar is welcome to my carrots. It can have my share. That was my secret second reason for planting carrots: butterflies.

Also saw an adult cicada resting on the (remaining) garlic, and a white-faced meadowhawk on the spiderwort by the birdbath. There are cabbage white butterflies everywhere. fishy and I found a cardinal's nest in the white lilac not all that long ago, too, which is pretty neat. There are nuthatches and chickadees around, and goldfinches constantly singing.

As for the rest of the garden, well... it's still there. Which is a good thing. Must get the rest of the garlic out and put the brussels sprouts seedlings in.

magazine dreams

I received my Canadian Gardening this week. I have always kind of wanted to be subscribed to a magazine, and I've never done it, just for myself. I think I was subscribed to Chickadee when I was a kid, but does that really count? I always buy CG in the grocery store, and this is technically cheaper.

The result has been that I had wonderfully vivid, realistic gardening dreams last night. There was one garden and patio that I am still trying to figure out -- is it a place I have been before, or did I really just dream it? That only happens very rarely in my dreams (because usually there would be some sort of clue -- like the fact that I was flying over the garden, or perhaps there was a stationary tornado in the background) but I think this was maybe just a very realistic dream.

The other nice thing it has done is convince me that we are not alone in being incredibly frustrated by our garden at this time of year. With us it's been a combination of not having enough time, or enough will is probably more like it, to do the weeding and deadheading that is required of a garden the size of ours. And July is always a terrible time for gardens. So I am pleased to see that it affects other gardeners, too. Reading the suggestions from experts at on the last page of this issue, some of them are practical, but some of them are completely "Don't worry about it, this happens -- throw some colourful annuals in there and see what happens..."

I don't know if I'm going to go with the annuals, but I am going feel secure in the knowledge that gardeners everywhere have problems with July.

Ed Lawrence and chickens

A couple of things of note for today:

1. For some reason, I missed that Ed Lawrence has a book. I think I probably knew that, but haven't really clued into it. It's now on my list. I can probably get it from the library. I expect it is awesome, but with two terms of school coming up I have to watch my spending. I have always loved listening to Ed on Ontario Today. It used to make me feel grown-up. Now it's about his gardening tips. As an aside -- he never looks the way I expect him to. Each time I see a photo I'm surprised.

2. Today, the City of Waterloo is considering a proposed bylaw regarding raising urban chickens. Thinking about urban chickens leaves me with two questions: a) does one ask one's neighbours if one wants two chickens in one's backyard? and b) what are the best books to tell me about how to raise chickens? I think my grandfather would have gotten a kick out of me trying to raise chickens in my urban back yard. I know my uncle is going to laugh at me.

Not that we have decided we're going to have chickens, not by a long shot. But it's kind of a cool thought, isn't it?

musings on the will to live

So, yes. Of the earlier seedlings planted, all the tomato seedlings came up, and got a little scrawny from the lack of light (they sprouted faster than I expected, and I didn't tell fishy to move them to the sunroom soon enough) but by all reports they are doing fine. The peppers are taking longer than I expected, but I am sure part of that is due to cold temperatures. More than one are up now, so that's good. The peppers I really want, because I will make jelly with them again.

And much to my surprise, all the asclepias sprouted! And fast, too. They were up as fast as the tomatoes, and got their first true leaves faster too. Who knew? I expected them to be too soggy, as I over-wet the seeding mix I had them in.

One of the things Abbie Zabar says that always gives me hope is that plants want to grow. So you can do a lot of terrible things to most plants, and they'll still try to grow through it. Seeds especially. This is part of my gardening strategy. I figure that the plants are going to try to grow anyways, so any help I give them is totally a bonus. If the plant doesn't have the will to live even with the help I give it, well, I tried. Generally, this works out quite well for me, and surprisingly well for most of my plants.

Incidentally, the latest Norfolk pine in the house is showing every sign of being a wuss. In my experience, most Norfolk pines are wusses. So is rosemary. And lobelia. And thunbergia. And morning glory. Asclepias, on the other hand, is a fighter.

/insert random hockey note (I promise not to do this very often)

It's a good thing the asclepias is a fighter, because the Ottawa Senators crushed me again this year, despite all the very loud yelling and cheering I did. If this year's Ottawa Senators were a plant, they would be the hostas in our front yard -- looking awesome at the beginning of the season, and wilting away to burnt-out husks by the end. Ah well. I am going to transplant those hostas to a more suitable location, where they will flourish. And Bryan Murray, sadly, going to be forced to do some uprooting of his own.

/end random hockey note (seriously, the season is over, I'm done)

growing again

It is raining. Things are growing, or starting to. I would have taken pictures except that I have had bad experiences in the past with cameras in the rain.

The ground is extremely soggy today, and there are portions of the back yard, and the front boulevard, that are completely covered in a mat of leaves from last fall. We kept an eye on that, so I'm not sure how it happened -- but if the leaves in the front don't get dealt with, they are going to kill the grass completely. I guess I could plant sedum there, then.

I haven't really had a good look at the front yard, but I walked around the back yard in the rain this morning. The iris I planted are starting to come up, or some of them are. It looks like I planted them a little too shallowly in the fall, so I think I'll lay some thick compost mulch around them this spring. The fritillaria is shooting up, the daylilies are starting to grow (no word yet on whether or not the ones I planted, the ones I got instead of the salvia, are growing; I can't remember where I planted them). There are tulips and croci sprouting up everywhere, with apparent minimal damage from squirrels. I half wonder if it's because the squirrels are full of birdseed. Daffodils and hyacinths are up. I couldn't tell if the ferns and the single dog-tooth violet I got from Veseys have sprouted around the tree. Since I didn't get any photos today, here's a photo by fishy of the fritillaria in bloom from last year (it was quite spectacular):



The spring garlic is going like mad. And interestingly, one of the rhubarb plants, both of which I thought were quite dead, is alive. I don't exactly know what to do about that. I do want rhubarb in my garden, but my suspicion is that it is not going to do at all well where it is. I don't think rhubarb really likes to be moved, though. I don't really have time to do it today anyways, since if there is any garden work to be done it will be to move the hostas out of the front yard and into the back somewhere, and then maybe even move the grass to the front.

The shallots I planted last year and didn't manage to harvest are all up this year, which kind of blows my mind a bit. I will have to take them out, but I don't know if I can do anything with them (like divide them and let them grow, and harvest them?) or not. Will have to do some reading.

Will have photos of the sprouted plants in the sunroom, and of my efforts to plant strawberries later on.

it's bloody cold here, she whined

It's fall. I love fall. I've always loved fall. So fall is good. I have been collecting leaves, mostly leaves which blow in from the neighbour's trees, and stuffing them in black garbage bags in an effort to turn them into mulch.

I pulled the tomatoes out and planted fall garlic. The rest of the stuff I purchased from Vesey's got here yesterday, so I have a dozen Dutch iris to plant, and some ferns, and some salvia.

This is all excellent, except I have no time...

entry the first

This may end up being a very bad decision, to give bluepixie a sisterblog. I may end up never posting on bp again. Or, I may end up never posting on either of these again. But I've been hankering after a way to post things specifically for my backyard and so here we go. Let's call it an experiment. Also, I have to figure out how to post stuff here so that I like it, so it's like a double guinea pig. As such, I'm not actually telling anyone this site exists yet. If you've joined me from the vast sea of the internet, welcome, and yikes.

Let's see how the image engine works here:


Okay, sweet. That was easy. Also, the above is a tulip from my garden. They're done now, but were beautiful about a week ago.

Here's the thing -- I know a fair bit about gardening, I think, but it's all book learning and a few small things I've picked up from my grandmother over the years. This is the first time, now that we have a house, that I get to test my knowledge and see how it works in the real world. It's going to be a grand adventure and I'm really quite excited. The fact that the excitement has stayed with me since we moved in is a good sign.

And that's it for now. Soon I'll be posting about the vegetable garden, which is my big project for this year and which I'm really, really pleased with so far.