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. 

A Bright New Year's Day

1 January 2013
10:58:03 AM

It's a new year, a new beautiful blue sky day in Thunder Bay. I should be outside soaking up the most of it, but my holiday hibernation switch hasn't yet been turned off. I see no reason to get dressed today. Flannels & slippers #ootd

Now is as good a time as any to update this blog.. I've been feeling a little embarrassed since the January 2013 issue of The Walleye was released and the reader survey gave it a number two 'Best Blog' mention ...knowing that I haven't even looked at it in months. So, being that resolution time of year I'm going to add 'update blog regularly' to the list. ...but really, I say that all the time. For years I've been putting off finishing my glossary here, and somewhere along the way I stopped listed my book wishlist, which I miss.. this passive aggressive blogging behaviour needs to change. Today feels like a good day.

In the last twelve months I've carefully watched #TBay Tweeters, images in Instagram, and followed the 'Thunder Bay' Facebook feed full of photos - all the historic print & postcards and countless current shots of sunrises over the Sleeping Giant- it never gets old - ...it's been fantastic to watch and read the pride. I've met some brilliant Thunder Bay people through Walleye assignments, everyone so humble, ready to share, grateful for the paper's nod. I can't tell you how much it means to be a part of something that spins such positivism.  

fruit & popcorn strings

hung for winter birds

at St Paul's on Waverley

I see good things ahead in 2013. Our neighbourhood is full of fun people, thriving local businesses - walking distance to everything we need, friends, food fine & diner, anything we want. I'm surrounded in parks, outdoor skating rinks, and some of the City's tallest trees. I've never been happier about where I live.

My camera and I have big plans for the year ahead; not sure exactly what, but we're pretty comfortable with each other now so it's time to take our relationship to the next level. I'm still constantly amazed with what the iPhone can produce, and the photo app experimentation is endless... makes it too easy sometimes. Instant sharing has sucked a little quality time away from this blog. 

Collecting photos of favourite trees has been an ongoing project that requires better organization - especially now that I see that so many of my photographed trees have been turned into stumps. (This should definitely be the year I join that citizen pruner program...) I never get tired of roaming the city with cameras; there's so much to see when travelling by foot (or bicycle), slowing it down, taking shortcuts through parks, recreational trails & downtown river walks. 

I am smitten with this new tree on St Paul Street at Red River. 
It is so full of potential - I can imagine it years from now, 
dressed up in lights with ornaments for the birds. 
What a nice addition to downtown. 

It makes me want to breathe a little deeper. 

As for a gardener's resolution or two (or many more)... the list is long, kind of like the gardener's to-do list. That's nothing new, not even in a new year. R commented (complained?) the other day about the tulips and daffodils suddenly available at Safeway, "It's still December!" he said with an eye-roll. I was preoccupied with photographing the spring blooms and checking out the new 2013 gardening magazines already on the racks to think there was anything wrong with daffodils in December. My Christmas loot included a few new titles for the garden book shelf, putting me in the mood for spring planting as of Christmas morning.

Here's to 2013 

to a healthier life, to family & friends and to the best of Thunder Bay, Cheers!

why I garden

Dear Garden Diary,

R completed the garden fence on Sunday; allowing me to drill in the final screw. The fence is a work of art, and fills the back yard with the scent of cedar.
It's too bad the garden within has been annihilated by the damn army worms. It's ugly out there - like shrapnel blew through the kale and chard.
The Trichograms are visible in small numbers, not that I've been able to photograph any. I suspect the ants ate more than hatched.

The ridiculous heat of late has kept me from bothering with much of anything in the garden, aside from drought prevention and pea picking. I still have some things to pot, and I have little time to get it all done before we're gone for three weeks. Yipes.

This morning while lying in bed, awake after R left to catch his early  flight, I thought of something profound to write about the garden - or about how I feel about something to do with it. It was good, really good..., but it's gone. I actually got up and partially dressed thinking I would sit down with  pot of coffee and write it all down, then shook my head, threw off my gown and crawled back into bed. There was no way I'd survive the day in the greenhouse on such little sleep. So, I willed myself to remember that profound thought and went back to sleep.
This is why it's important to keep a notebook and pencil at had at all times. I bet if I had I would have something more interesting to write about.

Somebody recently said they loved the idea of keeping a garden blog, but just couldn't imagine having the time to do it. I can't - as a gardener - imagine not doing it. Before my online journals I always kept written journal - still do, sort of. I will always doodle, and keep a pad and pencil in my garden apron - I don't know how to keep track of everything without notes. I note when I plant things, when pests arrive, buds bloom - scribbles and notes on dirty paper. I've been trying to keep better records of all my plants, inspired by the exemplary excel sheet organization of Northern Shade. Mine are coming along. Along with that darned glossary (which I've been "working on" for a few years now..)

Time is a funny thing. Funny how when you're running out of it so much can get done. So much of everything I do is done in pieces. I wish I had ten times the time I have do get things done, started - breathe life into some imagined projects. Ah well, for the time being I'm happy with keep this scattered blog. It's the best record I have of gardens I've known. My desk is covered in years of notebooks and baggies full of plant tags & empty seed packages waiting to be logged. A hoarder of important stuff.

#twopeasinapod

A lot of my time is spent staring through my iPhone, using limited characters and hashtags to write about my garden. My Instagrammed garden journal is simple to keep, simple to share. I often think of them as short abstracts to inspire me when I have the time to write more.
This is why I love photography so much - how so much can be said in a photo, one shot. I framed this one of two peas in a pod to show my engagement & wedding rings, the two peas, R's beautiful garden fence, and our summer garden all over everything. A photo that completely defines 'amy's garden' right now, us: two peas in a pod - with our Australian wedding just around the corner.♥ ♥ ♥

My to-do list is long - starting with: finish planting the poor suffering plants in small greenhouse pots. Reseed some things (spinach, beets)..plant more peas again. (The dogs have enjoyed most of the peas this year...as always). ...and on...

I look forward to seeing it all when we return.

Speaking of which, my most important to-do list item in Australia this year is to garden blog the experience. I had such good intentions of doing it last year. With tulips and daffodils blooming along side woody zonal geranium shrubs, bird of paradise plants lining the highway during Christmas in July in the Mountains. At least I can count on my hashtags to bring me back.