I am dedicating this post to Ronit, a friend I had not seen in a long time whom I reconnected with this past weekend at a bar mitzvah. Ronit commented on how irregularly I have been blogging (I had no idea she was following me!). She requested I post something green, and so I am posting summer pics not my usual mid-winter studies in white.
I have not been blogging recently, not from lack of things to say (never!) but just having so many things to do. New projects, new contracts, new courses, new challenges. Life getting in the way.
My garden challenge this winter has been compost. Crazy weather has made the simple task of walking to the back of my yard to dump my compost in the bin and toss some hay on it a real challenge. Back in October, I emptied one compost bin, and had it ready to go for when the current one I was using was filled up, which it did just as the temperature plummeted from a rainy, mild few days to arctic chill. A full compost bin will often be a higher temperature than outside, due to the heat created by decomposition. An empty compost bin does not have this advantage. So when rain falls and freezes on the knobs that keep the top secure from hungry animal visitors, it becomes impossible to open until the temperature goes up. Which it didn't. So I asked Josh for help, as he is quite good at this type of problem solving. It took a bit of nagging and reminding once he agreed to take a look, but he managed to get them open. As the weather has continued to fluctuate with a range of 40 degrees Celsius over the past month (sometimes overnight) I have decided to risk tempting large hungry mammals by leaving the top unlocked. So far, no bears have broken in. Anything smaller would have a hard time reaching the bottom of the bin from the top, or have the dexterity to open it. I may be wrong, but so far nothing noticeable has tried to eat my rotten bits of lettuce and eggshells.
The rain, deep freeze, huge blizzard, snow dump pattern (if you can call it that) has done a good job making the hay I carefully piled up beside the compost bin in October almost impossible to use as it is a frozen mass most of the time. I will have some pretty soggy compost come spring. So much for planning. My last hike to the bin involved carefully opening my back door so the three or more feet of powder snow would not tumble into my house, and trekking thigh deep through snow to the bin, easily lifting the unlatched top to dump this week's scraps, then stubbornly digging out the hay pile and trying to rip a few loose strands of hay and last year's overgrown weeds (a decision I may regret) to top it off.
I am thinking of planting inside earlier this year. I am not sure the effect of a lengthier period indoors on tomatoes and broccoli and whatever else I decide to grow, so I may try some earlier and some a month later to see which works better, and have a longer harvest. I am also planning to build an enclosed area which will be groundhog proofed, to plant all of his/her favorite foods, and also as a starter nursery for sunflowers and other things that are really tasty as sprouts but the groundhog ignores if I manage to protect them until maturity. I had one surviving sunflower last year which was hidden among the bee balm until it was big enough. I tried to plant them in spots that would be difficult to get to, but the groundhog is a clever one and I have to be smarter. The bathtub worked, the old clawfoot tub was too steeply curved and smooth to climb, but not big enough to grow all the things that animal loves.
So the photos I am posting are ones which I never ended up blogging about last summer. My mother still manages to squeeze in some time for her artwork as one of her rare periods of respite from caregiving. Last summer she participated in a show at the Shaika café in NDG along with friends who have been painting with her in classes over many years, even though my mom was not in the class with them last spring. When I went to the vernissage, I parked on Old Orchard between Sherbrooke and de Maisonneuve, and discovered, to my delight, that a number of people along the street were competing with one another for the most beautiful garden. Most of these gardens were in close proximity (I am familiar with the phenomenon, we do get a bit competitive), and the effect was delightful. I decided a return visit with a camera would be in order. A week or two later, my friend Julie invited me for a walk, and I suggested heading in that direction so I could capture some of the highlights on film for posterity. I thought it would make an interesting alternative to yet more pictures of my own garden. So I have finally posted this series. Like my own front yard, the street has a lot of shade, and it is interesting to see what other people do in these conditions. It is easy to have a spectacular garden in full sun. Shady gardens take more effort.
I recently got my new Vesey's catalogue. I am waiting until I am thoroughly fed up with winter and then will invite my neighbour over to pour over the pages wistfully, dreaming of spring. The days are getting longer!
