bees and blooms

We all got our hands sticky at the Roots to Harvest Urban Beekeeping course on Tuesday evening. I'm not sure Adam will forgive me for sharing this photo of him all around, but I think it looks cool - we were all mesmerized by the bees, studying their combs, social order, and coordination. I absolutely love this - everyone should take this course.

I've decided next summer will be bee summer. At first, as I learned more about everything involved, I thought new bees and a new baby might be too much..., but, if I delay for reasons like that we'll never get bees. By the time the bees come baby and I will have had time to get to know one another, and establish some sort of routine. We'll start small, with two brood boxes and a stack of one or two honey stackers - I'll sort that out with Barry (Bears'Bees&Honey)

the bee hives at
Roots to Harvest
Cornwall & Algoma Garden

busy bees

Now known as the "bee garden" the adopted garden at the back of the yard now makes sense to me. It's already wild and mature, with enough small empty spaces for me to add some simple wildflowers for the bees. It's half covered by the Norway Maples nearby, and will have even more tree coverage when we plant a couple apple trees along the back fence on Finn's birthday this year. The garden will still get all day afternoon sun along the south side, which is what the bees need.

There are some purple/dark blue delphiniums near the centre of the bed that are blooming like idiots right now. Next year they'll be staked. Also in the bee garden: Stella De Oro who is taking up enormous space, desperately needs dividing, but we'll see if I ever get around to that.., some irises, a whole bunch of hostas, some Lady's Mantle, two things I'm blanking on, and a couple of lilies here and there. In spring there were some orange tulips, which I will add to with some other early bloomers.

I imagine the space looking like a wildflower garden - tall, kind of crazy, colourful, and every changing. The bees will love it. 

In other garden update news:

The backyard garden, which consists of the two beds nearest the house and shack. The peanut shaped bed already had a nicely shaped Catone aster, and the lime leafed spirea (which has been covered in bumble bees every day as it flowers). I've added bee balm and rhubarb, mother of thyme and ajuga around the rock and lamp post, two daylilies: 'Pizza Crust' and 'Anzac', a hosta under the Catone aster (can't remember the name right now), a dwarf Goat's Beard, and a Lady's Mantle. There's still a lot more space in that bed - and a dog problem.

      

The bed nearest the house remains empty - we haven't even topped it with triple mix yet. It is going to take me years to fill these beds. They're huge. For now, we left the caragana near the door, and the upright juniper near the dining room window. There's a peony to be planted near that, and 'Golden Celebration (David Austin rose) to go near the side door. I sort of wish we could turn this into a decorative vegetable, herb, and perennial bed (leave lots of empty spaces for annual food)..., but it's visited by too many dogs - who aren't even thwarted by ugly bright orange flagging tape. We'll have to wait and see how this one grows.

Under the Hawthorns, the lilies have bloomed. I'm not entirely crazy about them, which is why I like them. I never would have chosen these, it's a colour that is missing in my gardens, and I think they will compliment anything I add. They're bold and bright in the shaded Hawthorn garden. 

empty beds and new beginnings

It's been a slow process with me functioning at less than half power, and unable to do any of the heavy lifting, but thanks to Edie (and Lewis) and The Lawn Barber (for shrub removal), and my Bill Martin's landscaping crew (for turning the beds), finally the gardens around the house and under the oak tree are empty of boring shrubs and ready to plant. 

Last weekend Rohan did the manual labour and planted a number of things we've had waiting, (then replanted them after I decided I wasn't happy with my first choice of locations). We're on hold until we can get some more triple mix into the beds - especially Finn's garden, which is very rocky and dry. It's not the worst soil, but not the best..., a little amendment never hurts. 

I'm not entirely sure what I'm going to do with this small oval under the caragana near the driveway. Maybe just some thymes for cover. The caragana actually stands nicely on its own, and soon enough we'll have a vegetable garden not far away.

Under the oak tree is the largest space - approximately 18 x 16 feet. Closest to the pea shrub along the south side is where I want to plant a row of Hansa roses, my mother's favourite. They get big, and might eventually be able to take over those boring pea shrubs. My hope is that their scent will sweep along with the lake wind and fill our whole yard with my mother's childhood memories of the roses along the Massachusetts beaches. 

Tulips in spring, daylilies of summer, sedums and coneflowers in autumn among many others will move into this space. I'm curious as any to watch it develop.  

The work in progress around the back side of the house is also going to be a development over time. Peonies, foxgloves, liatris, monarda, shasta daisies and who knows who else. I haven't mapped anything - well, I have, then it changes, and changes again..., so I think I'll just have to wait and see. 

We've already added the Tinkerbelle lilac on standard tucked in behind the ninebarks, giving a little extra height to the side garden. A Flowering Almond and Southerland's Gold Elder and Jude the Obscure David Austin Rose are in near the cedar. Behind the cedar tucked close to the door we planted a Vancouver Sea Breeze Clematis, which so far looks to be thriving. I really hope it takes because the blooms in photos I've seen are the sweets shade of pale blue, and I'd love to see that each time I step out that door.
More roses, Mordens for sure, a bird bath and butterfly flowers will fill in the spaces. And a hummingbird feeder outside the window...
I'm liking this garden already.

Along the south side of the yard there is no garden..., yet. I've dug a small bit, and will continue bit by bit until I reach the back lane. Dr. Ballantyne used to plant impatiens along here, which I'll continue tucked under the hostas, pulmonaria, astilbe, goat's beard, tiarella, bleeding hearts, and solomon seal along with the existing ferns. This one will take years to establish, but the end result will be a lush line of shade plants weaving along the fence.

Dear Garden Diary,

I've finally had to break down and hire a landscaper to take the shrubs out. I offered them free for weeks, and only one person came. A few will go next door, Edie and Katie will take some to redo their hedge line, and Marie's sister Leeann will take a whole group to start her new yard. I'm happy they're being saved, and finding homes with good people. As much as I wanted to rip this garden out, I can't just go around killing perfectly good shrubs.

As for what I'm going to plant and where ...that's a good question. I know what I want, I'm just in the process of making sure I place things as best as I can for these wacky top of the ridge weather conditions. Wind, again, is going to dictate this garden more than I like..., sigh, but there's not much I can do. Strategic planting, the buddy system, that's what I'm counting on.
A couple of lilac have followed me home recently after a conversation with Anne next door lamenting the loss of the lilac grove in the lot behind which was once Dr. Ballantyne's garden. Apparently before the McMansion was built no thought was put into preserving the lilacs, so they were all mashed before anyone could save a few. I'll never understand that kind of "development"..

The destruction of mature trees to build and plant new trees was the theory yelled at me - literally yelled at me, by Rajni A when I called to ask why the condo development next to Maplecrest Tower was taking down mature trees on the Maplecrest side of the property line. She insisted they were on the side of the new condos (which they weren't), and that they were "in the way." It didn't matter to her - absolute ignorance to how long it takes to grow a mature tree, or to develop natural green spaces in urban areas. We should be preserving them, building around them, not destroying them in the process. I don't understand the mentality of developers in this city.
Rajni went on to tell me how beautiful these condos would be, and how the landscaping would improve the view.. (yes, because un-naturally placed leafless trees, and shrubs from nurseries really compare to mature evergreens). She said, "you just wait, in a few years it will be gorgeous." ...completely self centered and thoughtless... my mother didn't have "a few years" and in the meantime her tranquil view was destroyed. Rajni and the developer were completely self serving. I don't like those kind of people.

So, along with roses, Dr. Ballantyne's garden will come back to this space with lilacs - Madame Lemoine (a double flowering white), Tinkerbelle (pink, and a weird hybrid standard at that- so unlike me), and of course a few Beauty of Moscow (white-pinkish). I've also learned from a neighbour (um, can't remember his name...) that Dr. B used to plant impatiens all along the south end of the property. Though I have plans to add a border bursting with lush shade plants, at their feet will be impatiens, as it should be.

being frontyardovich 2014

Stopping to smell the tulips this morning, I took a photo using my iPhone's ProHDR app - which takes two photos using different exposures with a slight delay. The result is often kind of awesome.
Sometimes, I'll get ghosted images of things moving through the scene.

There's a small patch of tulips (and I think some lily of the valley?) popping up in the garden bed under the oak. Upon further inspection this morning and later again this afternoon with a measuring tape I am pretty sure I can fill all 17-18 feet of this space before we see another winter.

These tulips will stay. There's something about adopted tulips... Not sure who they are yet, but we're about to find out. I'm hoping to just work around them, leaving them as they are.

As for the rest... What the frack. No seriously..., those marigolds (upon further inspection) were planted in groups of three. Somebody actually put some effort into that. #headdesk Filler, I get it, but the lack of creativity in such an inspiring place sucks a little life outta me.

Yoga breathed it all back in and then some. Robin offers more than yoga; there's her background in massage therapy and understanding of anatomy, but it's more than that. I'm struggling for the words - too many things come to mind..., somehow today while trying to explain breathing and positions we ended up on ecosystems and the whole interactive within ones space and all the things within that space. The healing she offers encompasses not just now, my grief, my body and mind's desire to die, but all the things, everything from my very beginning: the sensitivities I have to chemicals (in food especially), illness and emotions that I thought would never matter, tragedies physical and emotions. Things I had put behind me: the c-section and difficult recovery from having H, the infection of 2009..., all of it revealing and relieving, finally feeling free to hope a little.
Last week, when I was as low as ever, feeling heavy and weighted by grief, Robin chose to weigh me down more with warm heavy blankets while in each position. The release was intense, I felt safe for the first time in days..., I fell into it and nearly fell asleep, crying, dreaming of my sweet baby Finn.
It's times like that I'm most grateful for my healers.

Today I think I can feel my rib cage for the first time in ... uh, years maybe..  I can breathe. Oh thank you thank you...
Taking my time to stroll up the hill, I stood in the playground at Hillcrest Park, on top of a jungle gym - joined briefly by a little girl who might have mistaken me for five. I twirled in my 360 panorama awkward way, pausing occasionally while clouds passed between me and the sun to maintain my exposure.

Up the hill with a view of the Lake, it's not the sanctuary that Waverley Park is, but it does the soul good for other reasons. When I got home I emailed the City to put in motion a memorial bench and tree for Finn in Waverley Park. 

I've thought about it for a while, and debated the parks. Waverley always wins, it's where my heart is, it's where Finn and I spent most of our time twirling around taking tiny planet panos. Hillcrest may be the view from his room, but I think if I was to find him in an urban forest it would be in Waverley. 

Back at home, I took what I hope will be the last photograph of this pitiful garden. Whatevertheheck weird weeping juniper thing trying to be something beside that nice rock it just got to get torn out. We're going to go for a more real look - none of these whackidoodle nursery experiments. It doesn't even understand what it's supposed to do: trained to go up and fall un-naturally, it's over grown and trying to grow upside down, rooting all around its "trunk." Why?

I did my best to photoshop out what's currently there, leaving the rock (I like that rock), and the tulips, with the oak anchoring one end, and the young blue spruce along the south side. The options are endless. I'm swimming with thoughts of sweeping spreads of spring bulbs - daffodils mostly, with tulips popping up from early to late season. Summer roses, butterfly flowers and soft colours, ending with a blast of autumn blooms in deep reds and oranges firing up the feet of the red oak.  

With 17 feet from the east to the blue spruce and 18 feet to the end of the bed under the oak branches, that's  lot of space. It won't take long though, and if I could absorb my entire wishlist from the catalogs spread all over my desk the dog ottoman it would be filled by the weekend. 

dear garden diary,

sunrise
10 May 2014

sunset
10 May 2014

From under our oak tree, the tree I see when I close my eyes, I've been creeping around watching things grow. Tulips are appearing, maybe some Lili of the Valley too..., not entirely sure who else. In the back - in the garden bed we're removing entirely to make way for dogs and two wind-breaking, privacy giving blue spruce - I'm finding hostas, daylilies, and maybe iris(?) but it's soon soon and cold for them to identify themselves. They'll all be relocated somewhere along the south border.

From under the oak I also find a great view of the harbour, the park, and our Wild Thing trees. As I began writing this post I was staring out the window, watching a man walk with a skip in his step across the park and as he passed the Wild Thing he tapped one tree then backtracked a bit to tap the other. Saying hello? 

Who else loves those trees as much as I do?

This is the May of April showers. The few nice days we've had have turned out backyard and shack into a garden in progress. Plants and pots everywhere, bags of planting mixes heaped on the back wall, tools leaning. It's beginning to look less like someone else's boring shrub garden and more like Amy's natural disaster. GRIN

Saturday was a good day in the midst of misery. An enormous number of plants followed us home from lunch, and I can't even be entirely blamed (Rohan is as bad as I am so long as he can eat it).

The evening that followed found me laughing hysterically with Cathy and Lori as the sun set, then sitting fireside with my best friend and best love until midnight. Warm enough to stay in flip-flops, cool enough to want to add leg-warmers to my ensemble.

What all this time outdoors has taught me is that wind may be a bigger problem than I had anticipated. It can be wild. When it dies down the air here is fresh, it has never felt settled - there are just too many places for it to swirl around, over and through. I'll have to make sure everybody has a buddy, a plant to lean on, you know. 

I spent today planting in a cold wind and a bit of drizzle a few feet from the fire pit:

russian sage 'peek-a-boo blue'

virginia bluebells

scabiosa 'butterfly blue

carpet phlox 'sapphire blue'

aster 'wonder of staffa' (blue)

clematis 'sea breeze (blue)

liatris 'purple blazing star'

lilac 'beauty of moscow'

echinacea 'emotion bright orange' and 'marmalade'

agapanthus 'blue globe'

achillea millefollium - yarrow 'red beauty'

anchusa azurea 'dropmore'

anemone hupehensis 'praecox'

lilium 'strawberry vanilla'

The pot of enormous size that lives in the corner of the patio was there when we bought the house, and I'm undecided about leaving it there. For now, for lack of a better idea it will stay (and because it's too damn heavy for anyone to move..). I've seeded a bunch of gourds and miniature pumpkins that should be strong enough to climb from the pot over the obelisk, and maybe strong enough to withstand the wind. We shall see.... 

moving on mondays

Tim Tamashiro began tonight's Tonic show with talk of a dragonfly flying and this song, 

Steve Allee Trio - Dragonfly

Last week was miserable. I've been trying all day to say it's behind me, but really it's not, ...the weight of it is still here. Acupuncture for breakfast, grief counselling for lunch, a visit to the greenhouse for rejuvenation, ...totally exhausting.

I feel like I have a split personality - one completely consumed in grief, the other caught up in the season of gardening. Before gardening it was needlefelting, before that just fog... ..after Finn.
From not giving much thought to my new garden to finding myself more in-tune than ever is a little confusing, but I'm going with it - whatever it give me..., minute to minute, hour to hour, day to week to who knows. I'll never predict anything..

I'm going to ride this gardening wave. In my own garden I've never been more organised. Our new garden, our forever garden, has Excel worksheets with lists of all the new additions, and will include all that will be moved from Pearl, or added by friends. This time there's going to be a record from the start - better than this blog. 

(This blog would work better for what I wanted it to if a) I finished my thoughts and b) I tagged things properly so I could search it. I'm trying to be better at this.)

my pencil notes remain,
Excel worksheets are just an addition

There have been so many changes already, huge changes but hardly noticeable.. that's what happens when you take away boring. 

Damn I shouldn't say that. I've had serious heartache over the cutting down of the ash tree. Maybe it was my bad week. Maybe it's just my messed up emotions and attachment to everything. I just feel really bad for cutting down a (doomed but otherwise) healthy tree. My promise is to make up for is with a incredible edible annuals. And maybe blueberries.

I've also been planning other gardens, for other people. That along with being BMN in the social media world have allowed me to sort of step outside myself, outside the grief, and just be the gardener, think about the plants and be creative. It's what I've always done best, enjoyed the most..., I get to play with photography, share a little gardening knowledge, laugh a lot with Cathy. Who wouldn't want to do that? 

All of it together keeps me distracted in all the right ways. My garden plans are changing in my head all the time, new things come up, ideas..., more meaning to it all. Every step of this grief finds its way into my plans, creating a map within my garden that will grow and change along the way. 

Plants are arriving... I've ordered some specifics, some for names, some for colour, some to replace things we've had. On our dining room table is a little 'Beauty of Moscow' Lilac which will live near the house in place of one of these boring shrubs. It arrived today along with plugs and bulbs - phlox, asters, virginia bluebells...

The shack is full of plants, I have the kitchen table covered, an upright hot-house in the living room, seedlings growing, morning glories tendriling. The ash is gone, so is the cedar by the front door, stumps soon to be ground out. Shrubs will be adopted, soon it will be my blank slate, ready for our garden.

Little Magical One ~ Finn's Garden

I hadn't thought about the garden bed in front of the house, I don't even remember looking at it much until now..., didn't even notice how pitiful it was.
It came to me in an instant as I walked up the path to the front door the other morning on my way home from yoga feeling good and clear for the first time in days. It's going to be Finn's garden ~ below his bedroom window overlooking the Lake.

As it is now a nearly dead, over sheared cedar stands nearest to the front door, anchoring that corner of the house. It just has to go, ...sorry, to the compost. Two leggy, confused mugo pines are also headed for the compost, with whatever mystery spindles are left. There's some sort of lime-leafed spirea in the middle that I'm not sure what to do with - let it stay? Find a new garden for it? I'm not sure yet.
The rest is just empty, full of rocks... .

Finn's garden will be filled with soothing scents, healing plants, blues, whites, yellows, and crimsons, with meaningful names, and messages in flowers. The plants I'm sure will change over time, but as our grief grows so will this garden.

I've kept the one mugo pine that seems to be in good health in the plan, but I've replaced the cedar with a Picea glauca 'Pendula'..which Cathy is kindly sourcing for me. Heather has a beautiful one growing in her front yard, which I've swooned over for years. Though they originate in France, I think they look like neat versions of trees in Group of Seven paintings. 'Droopy Spruce' is what I've called them for fun..., but seeing as a giant black spruce or white pine are a bit too big for the space (a lot too big), the 'Pendula' is a good substitute. 

Baby Millar's Lady's Mantle is going to be taken from Pearl soon, divided and planted all over our new gardens. It will grow and spread, be divided again, given to friends, growing on and on. It was given to us from Chops and Patti, who wanted to buy us a plant to remember our first loss, after that devastating miscarriage ~ which was such a sweet gesture. Chops couldn't believe what I chose, as I carried the unassuming three leafed perennial around the nursery (Bill Martin's ~ before I worked there)... Perennials often don't look like much in their nursery containers, and at the time I think Chops worried it was an insignificant gift. 

I'll never forget the look on his face two years later when they were over for a barbecue, when he saw how the little plant had grown.

Alchemilla mollis has been a favourite garden plant for as long as I can remember. I love how the dew pools on the leaves, and the lemon-lime flower sprays are perfect for cut flower bouquets - like baby's breath... gorgeous.  

Little Magical One (from 2 March 2008) Alchemilla has long been associated with healing and alchemists. From an Arabic word, alchemelych, meaning alchemy; the plant is named so for its "magical healing powers," with folklore suggesting that even dew collected from alchemilla leaves has healing properties.

Also for tea, chamomile (I like the little pointy daisy-like heads of the German chamomile Matricaria recutita), and two of the David Austin roses Winchester Cathedral (to have a little of my mother and father in Finn's garden) and Heathcliff, lemon balm, echinacea, feverfew, and lemon thyme.

For blue, I'll plant a cranesbill geranium ('Johnson's Blue' is the usual go-to around here, but newer varieties have come along that just as blue, longer flowering, and less floppy...like, 'Rozanne' and another I can't remember by name right now..) and the purple leafed Geranium pratense 'Midnight Blue'..., also bluebells and forget-me-nots seeded beneath everything. 

The back border of the bed, with the chamomile and echinacea I'd like to plant so asters - so long as they don't get too crazy back there. Blue wood asters (A. cordifolius) and Heath Asters (A. ericoides) which will all bloom late in the summer, through Finn's birthday, my special September baby. 

For earlier in the season I've ordered some irises: 'White Wings' and 'Little Sighs', and I'm sure I'll find a few more. I haven't even started planning the tulip and daffodils that will begin each new year, but what I have in mind will be something special - from under the oak tree, across the yard and into Finn's garden I imagine a wave of early, mid, and late tulips surrounded by smiling daffodils.  

I'd like to include a lemony-buttery daylily - this may be the perfect spot for Double River Wye.., and some primrose (Miller's Crimson maybe). We'll see what sort of nursery finds follow me home this year.

Dear Garden Diary

I could go on without a computer, and I could even lose my camera, but I could never let go of a sharp pencil and a notebook. Long before digital photography and garden blogs I had my garden journals, and they are still where I do my best thinking. Drawing the landscape and doodling gardens is the best way to visualise plans...

...Photoshop works too. 

It's been hard for me to draw beds that I don't remember very well. I took some photos last year, but not enough - and not while I was thinking 'garden'. Not knowing how much space I have doesn't really matter right now..., they'e big enough beds and I think I can fill 'em (of course I can fill them)

Moving from Pearl (divided or taken whole): ligularia, all adopted daylilies (red, peach, yellow - unknown), geranium *Wargraves Pink, John Davis Explorer Rose, Therese Bugnet rose, Morden Blush rose, Morden Sunrise rose, rudbeckia, stronecrop *Autumn Fire, hostas (of course), tiarella, pulmonaria, irises, peonies x 2, ...um, ..more...

To be added: roses (already mentioned), joe-pye weed, liatris x a few, cone flowers, heliopsis, annual butterfly weed & evening primrose (if they survive a few seasons hooray), heath aster (small white, various other asters, various stone crop, lemon trillium :), ...and who knows what else...

A bird's eye view of this bed is really what is needed to display the haphazardness of shrubs and marigolds - oh and some individually planted cosmos completely frail in the wind.. It's pretty much all going to go. The Oak tree (my favourite) deserves better company. 

Photoshop doodling, imagining those Hansa roses building a (maintained) hedgeline, a mix of sun a shade plants tolerating the changing light from morning to night, ....there are still bare spots in this doodle which are easy enough to fill..., I just wish I had a better sense of space right now.

I'd like to find a Double River Wye daylily (my favourite), which I had years ago, but for some reason never took with me..., or lost along the way.

All of this reminds me of the front garden transformation at Pearl. :)

The south facing side of the house is..., um, ...crazy. The Virginia Creeper has swallowed the house, and though it needs a good haircut it is also a giant birds' nest condominium. This needs to be done carefully. I have no idea how.

I don't want to lose the creeper, I like it..., I even like it swallowing the house. Maintenance is all that's needed. 

As for the two shrubs with a red x mark, ...sorry... they don't even understand what they're doing there. Random round green balls. 

The star marks line the new path we're considering putting in. It became apparent right away that people will always being walking around back to find us - in the shack or otherwise, especially in summer. Having a path added to the existing lockstone will al so enable us (Rohan) to clear it in winter. (Aussie man loves his snowblower...). I've given myself a few extra inches of garden bed against the path to allow for low growing perennials - oooo, and maybe some creeping thyme and smelly things to walk on. 

The first step, as with any garden..., is the soil.., and good grief the soil in these beds is horrible.

This is a view of the little kidney shaped bed outside the shack. Rocks, dandelions, marigold bundles, and a clump of cosmos. For all the efforts in renovating the house, this took me by surprise. Sigh. This garden needed me. 

I know I can't physically do the work, so I'm counting on Bill and the team to turn this over and top it up with some compost and manure mixes. Once the soil is taken care of in these beds (front under the Oak, along the south fence, front east-south face of the house, the weird kidney bed by the shack, ...and the small areas on the north side of the house... That - is what I'm going to tackle this year. That and planting a tree or two in the back (one bare spot)..

...should keep me busy..

photographs and found treasures

The last few boxes surrounding my desk in the basement are in the process of being unpacked. Finally.
Most of what's left are boxes of photos that need to be dealt with properly, organized, and put in albums - I've slowly been compiling everything for that project..., which I'm actually really looking forward to doing.
Family suddenly has a whole new context, and our photographed story from my father as a child in Holland, my mother as a kindergarten teacher, my sister and I growing up, our weddings, our children... is something worth telling properly.

This morning was spent sulking, feeling sorry for myself, emotional, unable to even look at Finn's photos. I miss him so much. Some times(days, hours, minutes, moments) I'm able to hold it together, others ..not so much. I think I'm learning when to take a step back... let the grief do what it has to do.

There are times I can't read other grief stories, I can't bear how much I relate to them.., other times I can't tear myself away. Today I found my way to Mitchell's Journey, unable to look away from his father's story.
He speaks and writes beautifully of his son, but most important to me is the photographic story - and what he says about the importance of being a "paparazzi" in your children's lives.

I felt terribly guilty for dangling my iPhone over Finn from the moment we were reunited after his birth. The convenience of being able to take decent photos with a gadget that fits in the palm of my hand was too easy, and even more easy to share instantly with family and friends. I kept telling myself to live in the moment and put the camera down, but I didn't.
How grateful am I now that I have dozens of photos of him - photos in every outfit, at every time of day - and night, in the sunshine, with the dogs, by the fire, outdoors, indoors..., I captured every minute I could. Without those photos now - where would I be? From his growth inside me, to his precious ten+ days, I have it all on digital files, saved forever.

(Due to the mother-daughter code photos shared of Hannah must be approved by her - and for the most part they haven't been since "teen" was added to her age. ...but that doesn't mean I don't take them, save them, and have them all at hand.)

Chris Jones' story is important for another reason - as a father's journey through grief. His words are poignant, thoughtful and not held back by any tough exterior. I think it's often hard for father's to express themselves; Rohan has said a number of times how difficult it is to 'be the man' in this situation, hold it all together.. (...in those early days I don't know how he did it, while I lay motionless). So much of child loss and parental grief is focussed on mothers and how mothers cope. A father's perspective isn't something we've come across much, and certainly not one this beautiful.

Among the photographs and boxes of important things I don't know what to do with, I found some odds and ends of my mother's, some she intentionally left for me with messages scribbled on the envelopes, others just random things I ended up with - notes, drafts, notebooks she kept records in (she kept records of everything).
In a faded grey folder I came across a photocopy of pages from Dinah Shields & Edwina von Baeyer's book A Beginner's Guide to Gardening in Canada.

(von Baeyer's Rhetoric and Roses and Garden Voices being among my favourite garden reads..)

My mother's handwriting (in red pen - she must have been grading papers at the time) dates it 1992 ...
I know in the early 2000's she took a course or two in personal landscaping, hoping to do something pretty with her new construction home & garden - the work for which was put in me as hard labourer. She still didn't have a clue, but her determination was expressed clearly through likes and dislikes over my work. I am still being punished for planting purple (her least favourite colour) delphiniums in her front garden. (I thought they were blue..)
Though her enthusiasm for outdoor gardening may have been underwhelming, her indoor garden was always something spectacular. Also in the faded grey folder, a little pencil written note pulled from one of her many notebooks - on sprouting and growing avocados. My childhood memories of windowsills are not without a small glass of water with an avocado seed balanced on toothpicks half way in water, half exposed. I can't possibly imagine how many avocado plants she grew. I don't think any of them ever grew an avocado, but her plants were gorgeous.

Isn't it something that my mother the reluctant gardener was the first inspiration in my plans for our new garden.

Her Hansa rose will be among the first additions, but I've also just ordered some David Austin roses, a little tender here, but worth it even if for only one season. In my first garden I planted Winchester Cathedral - simply because I loved the fragrance of the blooms, even in the pot at the nursery. It wasn't until it was planted and I introduced it to my mother that she told me of how her and my father watched the changing of the bells at the real Winchester Cathedral while on a belated honeymoon (I think my dad was at a conference and my mother tagged along, but they called it a honeymoon... *academics*).
Ordered today is a new Winchester Cathedral, Golden Celebration, Graham Thomas, Jude the Obscure, and Lady of Shalott.
They're all of the hardier Davis Austin roses (famous for old world style and fragrance), but still considered somewhat tender here. I'm willing to take my chances. I'm eyeing up the sunny beds nearest the house for these, but that would involve the removal of boring shrubs..., which is a lot of work.

I see a lot of shuffling in our garden's future. The Reluctant Gardener pages my mother focused on were shrubs: flowering almonds, ninebark, burning bush... all of which are interesting, and worth considering for spots in this garden as well.

Rhetoric and Roses: A History of Canadian Gardening, 1900-1930
Edwinna Von Baeyer 1984
ISBN-10: 0-88902-983-0
ISBN-13: 978-0-88902-983-5

Garden Voices: Two Centuries of Canadian Garden Writing
Edwina Von Gal, Edwinna Von Baeyer, Pleasance Crawford 1995
ISBN-10: 0-394-22428-0
ISBN-13: 978-0-394-22428-2

Reluctant Gardener: A Beginner's Guide To Gardening In Canada 
Hoel Cooper, Edwinna Von Baeyer, Dinah Shields 1992
ISBN-10: 0-394-22233-4
ISBN-13: 978-0-394-22233-2

back at it...

It didn't take long for me, once I smelled the soil and spotted the plug trays, to want to get to planting..., and the day it was set up us die-hards were there at the planting table. It's the only part of the greenhouse season I can't miss out on - the first in years being last year at this time, when my mother was in hospice. I feel disjointed if I don't plant.
I don't mind the cold temperatures of January and February because they usually come with bright sunny days, and crystal clear starry nights. March and April are often dreary, dirty, damp, cold, and generally miserable. To spend those two months surrounded by warm soil under a blue sky roof - who could complain?

The last thing I expected to do this year was be back at work. I knew I would plant, and "hang around".... but, commitment wasn't something I was entertaining. It turns out I just don't know how to sit still, no matter what is holding me down.

Euphorbia graminea ~ Diamond Frost

Grief - of this kind especially, is defeating. There isn't a day, a moment, a conversation, a thought, that passes without Finn heavily on my mind. As much as it weighs on me I've come to conclude it also gives me strength. In a strange sense, I've never felt more empowered. I'm all too aware that worse could happen, the tension in my gut won't let that go - but, there aren't too many lower lows than what I've experienced in the past year.

I'm still standing.

The clarity that comes with the energy of being in the greenhouse again has helped in so many ways. My focus on our new garden is pretty clear; I even know how we're going to solve the new-garden-no-vegetable-bed problem so that once outdoor planting weather finally arrives I'll have some place to get my seeds dirty. (stay tuned)

I've already decided to focus on the trees, learning about our new trees, pruning and disease concerns of our new trees, adding birdhouse and feeders to the yard, dividing/moving/transplanting favourite perennials from Pearl, moving/transplanting favourites from around the new garden beds, and the addition of rose bushes.

The rose bushes I add this year will fill our yard with my mother's favourite childhood scent thanks to the wind sweeping across the Port Arthur Ridge to and from Lake Superior. By autumn I hope the yard will display some sort of transformation from bland to beautiful, useful, prosperous, and fruitful.

My father's scientific mind, my mother's artful eye, and my precious son's energy are a part of everything I do now. They'll grow in ways their bodies couldn't, and my only hope is that what comes of it makes a positive impact on the small parts of this earth I can help.

Gardening?

Gardening. I do think about it, and what I might do with this new yard of ours. I think that in about twenty-five years we'll have established, somewhat, a garden carefully planted and sort of sustainable. These things always change, as we know.

I'd like to know more about the history of the yard. I know that Dr. Ballantyne kept a rose garden in the NE corner... that is something worth researching.

The current arrangement is ...weird. No, not weird... it's as if someone used some kind of landscape software that mechanically plunked perfectly shaped perfectly boring shrubs in a perfectly boring pattern. Yeah, it looks nice, neat... too neat. Definitely not the jungle style of amygardenerd's blazed trail of past gardens around town.

The only thing that is good about it, in my mind...is very good - the trees. I'm in love with every tree on this property. Again, somebody carefully planned the planting of these trees, but this time I approve. A few maples, a very busy Mountain Ash, and that oak tree out front that has been the focus of my meditation when I'm trying to remind myself to breathe. In spring I'll start documenting them, start doodling some more maps of our outdoor space. I've never had so many trees - so many beautiful trees - to be responsible for, which makes me feel a little bit excited.

The trees are all nicely placed - with the exception of a little scraggly (ash?) out front. See, I really don't know my trees well enough. I have to get better at that. In autumn their colours put on a flawless performance, everyone in tune and complimenting the seat next to them. Spring should be just as good. Understandable how Vivaldi was inspired.

I'm going to call on Urban Greenscapes and the local plantcycle to help find new homes for any shrubs that are removed. Because I'm not entirely sure what the plan is yet - or even a semi plan, or a clue.. I'm not going to do any massive transformation of any bed. There are enough open spaces in the existing beds - large spaces that were filled (dotted perfectly) with yellow marigolds and random wispy cosmos unable to stand up in the wind up here on the hill.
I have photos somewhere of the perfect grids of marigolds, but I really don't want to face my photos folder right now - I'll did those up someday for a laugh.

I've been meaning to call Laura (hi..) .. I'm hoping she can help me with some division and relocation. There are some plants (okay, a lot of plants) at Pearl that I want to have, but I also want to preserve what's there. There are a lot of friends who could use a good division or quartering (that sounds horrible) - and if I could face the house maybe we could organize a plant sale.. *shrug*...
I really don't think I'll be able to go back there until I can see the house full with another family. That awful swirling dizzy feeling swooshes over me and through my body when I think of the air that morning, the last time I was there....the trees, Heather wishing congratulations through Rohan's driver side window as we raced off to the hospital in labour with Finn. The last time I was there, Finn was still safe inside me.
I don't want to see the house empty. Everything about it confuses my memory-reality-mixup in my head - was I really pregnant? Did all that really happen?
I can't go back to the house. Not now...I don't know when..

I'm going to bring my John Davis rose, of course, ...though I don't know where to put him yet. This new space isn't going to be as kind to him as his current space. The problem is, his current space is almost a little too kind, and he can get a little carried away. A garden person/family may not mind, but I suspect most people don't want long reach thorny branches poking into their back door.
It's a lot cooler up here, and the damn wind is effing ...windy.. I'm going to swear a lot about the wind I suspect.
I'm hoping to use roses around the yard as an extra barrier to keep critters both in and out. I'll take Marie Bugnet from Pearl too - I know nobody wants all those teeny thorns. I don't mind the thorns - they can be useful. There's that Morden Sunrise rose (still in his pot, I believe) and Morden Blush, neither very useful but definitely pretty. Front garden beds? They'll have to be tucked in somewhere warm against the house to survive up here.

New rose bushes with replace some of the boring shrubs, big ones, fragrant ones - the ones that remind me of my mother because they reminded her of the beaches of Massachusetts where she played as a young girl. Hansa for one, but I know there are others..., I'll find them.

Bigger space, bigger beds... means bigger plants. Dwarf varieties have filled my other gardens, this one is going to get some big guns. Solomon's Seal, Goat's Beard, hostas of ridiculous size, they'll all be joining us.

The backyard will be dog run territory - literally - enough space for them to truly run. That was another of the many reasons we wanted this house. How do you reconcile a love for dogs, gardens, family space, and still live downtown in walking distance to all the good stuff and the lake? Space was a big issue for us.
Before we moved in we worried we would alienate all our new neighbours. We'd be those crazy dog people with a poopy yard. Little did we know our new neighbours were worrying the same in reverse. Dog rescues to one side, dogs to the other, dogs behind, dogs down the lane - and as it turn out we have the yard to host them all. It's doggyville up here.
Our dogs are happier than they've ever been. It's like a little Tree Farm out there, complete with wide open spaces, and bushes to hide in to leap out on to your basset brother. They're having fun.
Most of the back yard will always be reserved for dog space (and skating rinks).

I'll keep my gardens closer to home.
You would think with all this space I'd have thought of a good place for some vegetables. I thought I had, but the wind blew that one away. The peanut shaped bed near the sunroom boasts nothing more than a cotone aster and a large rock (we like the rock)..., and not that I have anything against the reliable contone aster..., boring. This guy might keep his spot for the mere reason he's about the only one who can stand up to the wind tunnel that frequently, sometimes violently, blows through there. The marigolds and cosmos certainly didn't like it.
Low growing succulents might like the space - maybe some more rocks.., the pretty amethyst rocks Rohan put in at Pearl.

There's a bed at the back... there's a caragana in the corner, and I recall a bunch of hostas. Not much else.. I didn't look to closely before, so we'll have to see what comes up in spring. That bed would be (possibly) the warmest and most protected for a vegetable bed - but it's so close to dog territory it would be at risk for both the sneaky pea and tomato eating basset hound, but also the icky thought of pee seepage in the soil around it.
Let's keep the food away from that, okay.

I'm probably just going to pillage that bed and turn it over to the dogs.

If anything actually gets done I'll be surprised. I can't seem to get anything done these days. Small steps they all say. Don't get defeated. My body aches, it's sick from the grief, I still can't digest anything, and I'm in knots from being so tense and hunched over crying, I'm all twisted up. Sarah did some pretty wild acupressure yesterday to try to untangle some of the knots, but I think some new, bigger ones developed overnight.

Planting would probably do me some good, and I'm sure I'll find myself back in the back of the greenhouse digging in the dirt at some point. Maybe I'll just go for the ladies, ..at wine-o'clock. Maybe a bit of both. Maybe not at all. I dunno....

I'm just not really sure where to direct my garden thoughts. I've thought often about what Heather said when she was here last week - about her birthday tree planting fundraising. It would be nice to do something similar but in memory of Finn. Heather just wanted to plant a tree, but her friends helped her plant ten - boulevard and public trees, carefully placed near people who will care for them all over Thunder Bay. How nice is that?
I'd like to plant some trees for Finn.

I think this year will be mostly about the trees. Trees and roses. Sounds like a good place to start.

ready, set...

Clifford wonders
why are there so many fences around me?

our vegetable garden
24 May 2013

Rows are ready, peas are in, next to be planted in the large bed: carrots, beets, leeks, kale, cucumbers, zucchini, beans; already up: asparagus. In the small bed: tomatoes & hot peppers. Herbs throughout. Perennials rising, containers sorting themselves out...

Middle "yard" still a mess, waiting for paving stones.

Dear Garden Diary,

my one and only sunflower
and Thunbergia

Lately when I spy on Laura's garden two fences away I am spied on back by dozens of sunflower faces. They're incredible and I'm more than a little garden-jealous. I have one - one sunflower ...I know I planted more seeds than one. That's just the way a garden grows sometimes. 

Laura's flowers have had me thinking..., next year's garden is going to have more spring, late summer & autumn flowers. Considering the seasons of garden we enjoy the garden most - planting season and fresh returns, and later reaping the harvest, the lushness of mature plants and vines gone wild....

I'm not going to spend too much time on mid-summer plants, little reason seeing as we're not here - but plan for when we return. In pots the ivy still looks nice long after annual blooms have faded, and the Coleus container is still brilliant. In the garden I have plans for a big cull; as sad as it makes me, I have to reconcile my desire for every favourite perennial and use the space more wisely. The delphiniums just have to go...somewhere, maybe the west side, maybe into the back lane...but as much as I love them, they are just too big. I had considered moving them to the little micro-climate garden by the back porch, but I have plans for tomatoes there next year - and delphiniums are too prone to mildew to have close to the tomatoes. I have some 'Crazy Daisy' Shasta Daisies also needing a better home - so we'll just have to see where the shuffle takes them. Also moving, (even if just a few inches): the Crimson Knautia, that weird mystery rose from Creekside that never really grew - to make room for the Monarda to shuffle over a bit. Once they're all moved and replanted (which I will do some time in October) I'll add in some spring tulips - a rainbow of colours and kinds dotting the east side perennial bed.

I wish we had more space. Every zucchini and cucumber we have grown (and still are growing) has been put to great use. I've only given a couple away... We've eaten a lot of zucchini (soup, bread, cake, muffins, more soup, grilled, in frittata, tossed with pasta... and you know what, I'm not even tired of it and excited there are some nice ones still coming. The cucumbers are the best I've ever grown - sweet, juicy, huge. I've made more tzatziki than we could consume, and the dogs have had their favourite treat fresh from the garden for months now. Sadly, with frost nearing I'll let them enjoy today's rain, and harvest soon..

Precious Claire waits patiently for a fresh bean treat.

The beans (also loved by the dogs) are so tasty, and have grown into a sturdy wall. Even the Grape Tomato is using the bean wall for support. The other tomatoes have suffered a bit from crowding and smothering by wild zucchini. As unmanageable as they can be, we can't have a garden without cucumbers and zucchini. Next year we're simply not going to plant so many vegetables. I know, I know...I'm the worst for it - working in greenhouses doesn't help. A plant addict to the end, R's not help either. I'm always so convinced I can find the room - and though I still stand by my claim that if we were here for the garden during the major growing period in July & August we would be able to train it to survive the crowd, the fact is we leave ...and a garden doesn't like being left.

It's easy enough to supplement through flexible CSA programs, I have to remember that. Our garden's size is perfect for a seasonal kitchen garden - not great for large guys like Brussels sprouts and potato plants. I could leave them out for more space and not miss them much. More use could be made of containers, sacks, and balconies, but again - unattended pots in a ridiculously hot back yard don't have the best survival rates. I leave spinach to the local farms also..I never have luck with spinach *shrug* 

Our leeks are beautiful, and even though the beets and carrots are few in number they're still pretty. 

Garden Soup
leeks, zucchini, kale, onions & beans from our garden
local carrots & Ontario celery

The Thunbergia has reached the railing of the back balcony, at more than 15 feet it's glorious and so reminiscent of what I've seen decorating Californian freeways. It seems indestructible and I think it scares my family. At ground level it is creeping in every direction, tendrilling up posts and hooks left around the garden, attaching to the nearby pots trellises. I'm not stopping it. I can't imagine not having one of these again next year - just too fun.
The micro-climate garden by the porch has only a few permanent residents: John Davis, some crazy chamomile, garlic chives and whatever thyme & lavender survive (they always get replanted if winter snuffs them out). Snowbirds include herbs rosemary, tarragon, and sage, mint in pots, this year some lemon verbena too. I can see a Thunbergia becoming a regular too.
This year is was home to ten foot tall peas. Next year, I'll plant only two tomatoes in the space - early (...with R's construction skills we're planning a removable greenhouse contraption), and keep the rest of the space for tall autumn cutting flowers. We can add basil between, and with all the other herbs I think that would make the space quite nice this time next year. :)