Hiatus

Two posts in 2014.  One post in 2015.  It's been more than a year and I feel as though I left, unintentionally, without saying good-bye.

For 2014 there is no particular reason for the lack of attendance.  Maybe there was nothing to write about, nothing new in my garden experience.  Possibly it was disappointing me - the zucchini plants not so monstrous, the peas to so plentiful - and I was not feeling inspired to write or to reveal my  sense of failure.  Maybe I was too busy weeding.  They seem to get worse every year.  I had no energy left to compose.  I don't remember.

Last year was a huge change for me, as detailed in the previous post, "Fitting Things In".  Barry took over much of the responsibility for the garden.  The only relevant work I remember doing was picking about 20kg of Nanking cherries from our three bushes during the last few days of my vacation.  The lot of them went into the freezer to be dealt with later, some time when the house would be cooler.

Two weeks later, I dislocated my knee and had nothing more to do with our garden that year.  That's another story.  For the remainder of the summer, Barry tended to the garden when he got a break from tending to me.

This year he planned and planted and has done 99% of whatever else needed doing.  I pitch in with a bit of weeding and fruit-picking now and then.  It's looking grand.  Not everything is growing as we might have hoped (ahem, beets!) but he had amazing success in rearing volunteer lettuce and we had a fine Costata romanesca for supper last night.  Haskap berries, cherries, and raspberries have been wonderful.  There might be sufficient mint and parsley soon for a good tabouleh.  Grape vines cut back severely in 2014 are more lush than ever and heavy with fruit clusters.  Several crops yet to come.  Were it left up to me, the landscape would have turned to sow thistle, creeping bellflower, dill and coriander by now.

It's hard to tell whether I have lost my enthusiasm for growing food.  It's a bit difficult to get around the garden, to squat down to work at ground level, and to carry the watering cans about.  I also have less attachment to the annual plantings, not having raised them from seeds.  Hoping next year will feel different.

Fitting things in

It's time for another round of "Birthday Perennials"!  Wasn't that my last post, a year ago?  Adding items to the garden, gets harder as I add items to my life.  Since July 2014 I have doubled my summer paid-work schedule, volunteered to be on a conference planning committee, accepted more responsibility in a couple of organizations, and taken up training for an ultramarathon.  Hours and energy are running out faster for me than space in the garden.  It was surprising how easy it was to find sites for the six new perennials I scooped up from the nursery this year (it was somewhat helpful that a few of last year's lot perished).

Irish Saxifrage (Saxifraga andrewsii): Forms rosettes of leathery, toothed leaves, making small offset plants and eventually forming a good-sized mound.  Taller red stems in spring hold sprays of small starry white flowers marked with pink freckles.

Dwarf Korean Goat's Beard (Aruncus aethusifolius): Low mound of light green ferny foliage, bearing short spikes of creamy white flowers.

Chinese Pagoda Primrose (Primula vialii): Upright stems with a rocket-shaped spike of flowers in a shocking combination of mauve pink and scarlet red.

Red Masterwort (Astrantia major 'Ruby Wedding'): Unique umbels of starry flowers.

Bressingham Thyme (Thymus doerfleri 'Bressignham'): Forms low evergreen carpet of grey-green leaves, studded with dusty-pink flowers in early summer.

Spiderwort (Tradescantia Blue Selection): Long display of blue triangular flowers over a clump of grassy leaves.

(Photos to follow, eventually, of those that survive long enough and are deemed blogworthy.)

A huge thank you to B, who planted them for me and will be the one to "water until well-established", and to Mom, who I expect is paying for them.

Perennials and ephemerals

The big birthday is weeks in the past.  The helium balloon can hold up only three feet of its string, dust has collected on the cards, and the last quarter of saved cake came out of the freezer last night.  Time to quit observance of this passage and just accept that I am that age now.  After the sturdy bottle of amber Jura is depleted, the only memento of this great number-rolling will be this year's birthday perennials.

The lot above is from Greenhaven, and ultimately Heritage Perennials Inc. Clockwise from the top and ending at the center:

Serbian Bellflower (Campanula poscharskyana): forms a fairly fast-spreading patch, bearing loads of starry lavender-blue flowers in late spring.  Ideal for edging or as a ground cover.  ~Jeepers Creepers.  Why another Campanula, when there are two others already?  This one sells itself as ground cover, something in great demand for the rock garden and boulevard.  It's still blooming in mid-July.

Rock Rose (Helianthemum 'Henfield Brilliant'): single red-orange flowers over a mound of silvery-grey foliage.Drought tolerant once established.  Needs very good drainage.  Excellent for growing in the rock garden.  ~Heritage Perennials.

This one might be at risk.  Not finding a perfect site in the rock garden, I placed it at the base of a huge tree where is will have good sun exposure except at midday.  Main concern is drainage, which is never great in our clay soil.  Also, ant activity is increasing at the site.

Ice Plant (Delosperma 'Jewel of Desert Moon Stone'): forms a low carpet of succulent, green leaves bearing loads of starry flowers with petals that are pure white surrounding a yellow centre.  Will bloom for months.  Great choice for the rock garden.  ~Heritage Perennials

Perhaps not a great choice for my rock garden, or my gardening skill.  Seems I may have killed it already.  It's rated for Zones 4-9, which Lethbridge is not, but sometimes we get away with it.  But it did have hot, dry weather for it's time here.  Too much watering?  Too little drainage?  It was the priciest pot in my Greenhaven cart.

Golden Bird's-foot (Lotus corniculatus 'Plenus'):  tough little mat-forming plant, this becomes smothered by small golden-yellow flowers in early summer.  Good as a lawn substitute or between flagstones.  Thrives in poor, dry soil.  ~Jeepers Creepers

Arctic Campion (Lychnis alpina):  forms a low, tufted mound of narrow, grassy leaves, bearing clusters of timy bright-pink flowers in late spring.  ~Heritage Perennials

This one is still alive, but may not have great prospects, given its preference for sandy, gravelly soil.  Don't know what I was thinking that day, other than "I don't have one of these yet".  

Oregon Stonecrop (Sedum oreganum): forms a low spreading mat of succulent green leaves, like a tiny Jade Plant, turning red in hot, dry weather.  Yellow starry flowers appear in summer.  ~Heritage Perennials

Again, why another stonecrop?  It's an especially cute form of the genus, and a creeping type.  The garden needs ground cover more than anything.   Plus, it turns red, maybe.

There were also four new plants from ALCLA, a native plant society - Shooting Star (Dodecatheon conjugens), Showy Locoweed (Oxytropis splendens), Alpine Forget-Me-Not (Myosotis alpestris), and Prairie Smoke (Geum triflorum).  Shooting Star may not survive the summer and the other three are far from photogenic at this point.  It feels bad to lose a Zone 4 plant, but nothing like failing to provide the necessities of life to a native species.

On the brighter side, we still have ten out of ten from last year:

alpine wall cress

carpet bugle

evening primrose

kinnikinnik

labrador violet

peach-leaf bellflower

red pussy toes

purple rock cress

wineleaf cinquefoil

woolly speedwell

Leftovers

Gardening season Alberta is short; the first killer frost of one winter is never far enough behind the last killer frost of the previous winter.  That said, gardening season does sometimes go on longer than some of us would like.  Past the time when squash and tomato leaves have turned black and even the Swiss chard has had a few good scares, I am still at work, cleaning up my carefully cultivated out-of-control mess.  Pulling up roots, pushing stalks through the shredder, and watching the compost bin fill with next year's fodder can be satisfying, if not exactly fun, on a grey and windy November weekend.  More importantly, it is a kindness to my future self, the one who will have ready garden beds the following April, when the weather is finally conducive to sowing.

The fall of 2013 didn't unfold as well as it could have in this respect.  We were distracted by interior issues, namely the deconstruction and reconstruction of our kitchen.  A family health crisis took me out of town on the all-important Thanksgiving weekend in October and held my attention for the ensuing weeks.  Winter came early.  By the time my interest in garden work returned, the ground was frozen.  Whatever was in it - parsnips, sun chokes, vine supports, tomato roots, leeks - was going to stay until spring thaw.  It was a bit of a relief; I didn't feel like digging in the dirt in November.  At some point I did make the modest effort to poke garlic cloves into the soil, though I see now that I failed to secure a good layer of mulch to cover them.

Through the winter I've been well aware of the general mayhem of the the garden beds.  Even a thick layer of snow couldn't hide much of it.  Tomato cages, cutworm collars, pea fences, random stalks, and plants that kept trying until the bitter end are all eyesores.  Now that the snow has retreated, if temporarily, much of the landscape looks sadly neglected.  I hope it doesn't depress the neighbours........














.........This post was begun and abandoned two or three weeks ago.  Since then, a dramatic thaw has allowed me to unearth a few parsnips (now baking in the oven) and Barry has shredded a huge pile of woody matter.  In the course of a perfunctory clean-up, I found living leaves - Swiss chard, sage, thyme, onion - and suggested they not get too excited about spring just yet.  Sure enough, we now have a blanket of pure white snow and -17C on the weather station.  The pendulum will swing yet again.  Our seed order arrived two days ago; the activation process begins this weekend.  So much to look forward to.

My prize cabbage

This was our first attempt to grow cabbage.  We have grown broccoli, cauliflower, brussel sprouts, pak choi, and turnips, with less than laudable results.  I like to blame the cabbage moths that allow their ravenous offspring to destroy the leaves.  Radishes have always seemed to escape the pestilence, which is a faint blessing because they usually bolt and make their roots unpalatable before the eggs even hatch.

This year's quest for failure was Red Express cabbage.  Sown March 30, planted out May 6, narrowly escaping an avian abduction May 18, one of the plants became the jewel of the garden.  I soon began referring to it as "my prize cabbage" and wondered if there was indeed a contest it could enter, a beauty pageant for vegetables.

The Hope Seeds catalogue declared that the cabbage should be ready for harvest 65 days after transplant.  The above photo was taken several days past that point.  I still thought it might want to grow a little more.  Plus, I was deriving so much pleasure from the sight of it, it was hard to imagine that eating it could be any better.  Ironically, the only way we could ensure those fabulous unblemished leaves was to keep the cabbages under row cover fabric.....opaque white row cover fabric.  But then I did not become habituated to its beauty, and I gasped with delight each time the cover was removed for watering or weeding.  

Weeks passed.  Cabbage moths had gained entry.  The row cover fabric that had sustained minor hail damage in June was now strained by the upward mobility of several stout broccoli stems.  Who knew they would grow so tall?  Holes were enlarged enough for a determined butterfly to pass through and the fabric was just barely wide enough to reach down to both sides of the bed.  Fat green cabbage worms were having a feast on the smaller cabbages.  There were a few holes in the outer leaves of the prize cabbage, but the head seemed too solid to penetrate.  Nevertheless, even if it was safe from chewing, it might not be wise to leave the cabbage in the garden much longer.  

The summer has been hot and dry. Not exactly cabbage weather.  I have read of cabbage heads splitting and bolting, which sounds very dramatic and I would like to witness it, but not occurring in this particular individual.  Even if it didn't bolt, what might be going on chemically?  I much prefer my cabbage cool, and did not want to be confronted with the burning sensation that has put me off cabbage before.  My fear that it might go to waste helped me to do what had to be done.  On August 24, with the head in my left hand and the secateurs in my right, I slaughtered my prize cabbage.  The experience suggested to me that maybe I should not raise animals for meat.

Fortunately, once all the outer leaves were removed and the plain bald purple head was left bare, it was less familiar to me.  There was no hesitation when it came to cleaving the head in half with a kitchen knife.  

The inside was as perfect as the exterior.  Tight folds of white and purple, crammed together by forces I could not fathom.  How do the leaves get packed so tightly by only the force of other leaves?

The entire head was shredded for coleslaw, on quarter at a time.  Delicious. None of the heat I was worried about; just sweet and tender, for days and days.  This cabbage gave me a lot of joy this summer.  It will be remembered fondly.  

Grape expectations

grape grotto september six

Maybe I should learn to make wine.  Maybe I could!

Growers' guide to good beets

Beets should look like this.....

or this.....

but not like this.  Don't eat these.

I have searched online for beet diseases but yet found nothing to explain this affliction.  They are all from the southeast quarter of the beet bed, the same area where all the sunchokes were covered in fungus when unearthed in the spring, and, interestingly enough, close to one of our many ant hills.  I can't help wondering about that.  Another group of ants appears to have done in this cabbage in an otherwise healthy population.

This colony held its mating event yesterday.   Ants flying through the air are even more off-putting than ants crawling on the ground.  It was of some comfort that the sex-crazed drones were contained within the row cover.  I wonder if mating can happen when the queen's flight is limited to less than two feet.  Later in the afternoon, all was quiet, which is nice in a way but also probably means the queen is back in her chamber manufacturing a fresh batch of workers.