And I Saw Jack Fruit Growing on the Tree

Photo by Gayla Trail  All Rights Reserved

This is how we spent New Year’s Eve day last year: Some friends drove us to the east side of Dominica, to the village of Delices (how fitting) to meet an aunt and great aunt (who turned 100 this year!) and to see their amazing backyard food garden.

It was one of my most favourite days on the island. In Delices, the neighbouring backyards functioned like small farms, with fruit trees and spices and rabbits for manure. It felt just like a really large community garden, but everyone has their own yard and attached house rather than a small plot. There was a strong cooperative spirit, and everyone was very generous in sharing their gardens with us. Never mind that we were sent away with a big bag of fresh citrus, turmeric, cinnamon, and other produce.

I could have spent a week there and was sad to leave after only an hour or two. There was so much to see and discover. I was able to see several different types of tropical fruit growing on the tree for the first time ever, including this beautiful jackfruit. There was a mangosteen tree, too, but it was still very young. I hope to see a tree laden with that fruit one day!

I could have spent the rest of my life there: growing my own mangosteen tree, massive ginger plants, and chocolate, surrounded by tall mountains and lush forest until I grow tired of it all and begin to crave the smell of Autumn (as is inevitable because the grass is always greener). Perhaps I will one day.

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A Bit of Light Summer Reading

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As usual I’m acquiring books faster than I can read them, although I have placed a light moratorium on cookbooks. Last year I mentioned a sudden and insatiable craving for cookbooks. A year later and I have no where to put them! The cookbook monster has been placed on a leash for the time being.

What I wrote then about how I read cookbooks has held true. I don’t follow recipes; I look at pictures. I recently followed a recipe to the letter. It was in the book “The French Market: More Recipes from a French Kitchen.” This is a gorgeous book with lovely photos that make me ache to live in France just so I can take photos of bundles of flowers set inside old, dirty creme fresh buckets. Sure, why not. Unfortunately, I absolutely hated the recipe. In all fairness to the author and the other recipes that are probably delicious and perfect, it was for chicken liver pate, which is a very specific and acquired taste. Turns out I do not have a taste for this particular pate and neither do my friends. I now have 2 bowls of the stuff sitting in the fridge.

But you know what? For some inexplicable reason I had it in my head that I would like to try making pate, just for the heck of it. Just to know what that was all about. And I did. And it was greasy and awful. Moving on.

The way I “read” cookbooks is by sitting on the couch and flipping through the pretty pictures. And I dream. Usually the pictures get me thinking in a new way about an ingredient I am currently growing in the garden. In the winter it adds fuel to my excitement about the coming season and how rich my life will be when a specific ingredient becomes available. Sometimes the photos make me want to pick up my camera and take pictures. Sometimes they make me really hungry.

One cookbook author I do read is Nigel Slater. He’s my current favourite. I mentioned “The Kitchen Diaries” last year, a book I still pull out regularly to gaze at lovingly and run my hand over the beautiful paper. Since that post I have also read his autobiography, “Toast“, and book of essays about British food called, “Eating for England.”

And then for Valentine’s Day, Davin bought me the most beautiful book in the history of books, “Tender: Volume 1.” It’s a cookbook, but it is also about his vegetable garden. It’s pretty much perfect for gardeners who love food. The book is divided into chapters, each with a focus on one vegetable. He begins each chapter with personal anecdotes about that vegetable, how he grows it in his garden, and how he prepares it in the kitchen. The rest of the chapter is just one mouthwatering photo after another, and several recipes that feature the vegetable. I could go on about this book for days, but I intend to write about three more today!

Next up is City Farmer: Adventures in Urban Food Growing, by my friend Lorraine Johnson. I was reading and loving Lorraine’s books long before I finally met her. I’m not quite sure how I found them or which one I found first; however, she was one of the first garden writers I discovered that was writing about the subject in a way that related to my own experiences. She was the garden writer I most wanted to meet and happily turned out to be the first to offer me a kind word and a show of support. An early book, “The Gardener’s Manifesto“, was well before its time, and remains one of my very favourite books about gardening ever written. Sadly it is now out of print. Her newest book is a tribute to urban gardening in all its forms. It is both a personal account of her own experiences as an urban farmer and an introduction to an assortment of interesting urban food producers. The book is also peppered with little how-to nuggets and words of encouragement to get urbanites started on a new approach to city life. Lorraine is an excellent storyteller; I ate this book up in one sitting.

Look, I’m one of the converted. I maintain four very urban gardens, I have read several books on this topic and generally feel like there is nothing new about urban gardening that I don’t already know, and yet I finished this book with a renewed sense of enthusiasm and excitement. My feeling at the end was, “Yes, let’s do this thing! Oh right, I already am.”

City Farmer is not yet available in the US, but I have a signed copy to give away. Use the comments to share a book the is currently inspiring you. I will randomly choose one winner on Friday, July 9.

It’s been a few weeks since I finished it, and even though it has absolutely nothing to do with gardening, I feel very compelled to mention, The Book of Night Women by Marlon James. What a great novel. I shot through it quickly, taking every spare moment I could find to dive into the story. It’s about slavery in Jamaica and it is not a book that tiptoes lightly around this subject. Be forewarned, there is a lot of brutality and violence. It paints a very real portrait of what life must have been like for everyone caught in this depraved system. There are no clearly defined “bad people” to hate in this story. No simple suggestion that some people are inexplicably evil. It is much more complex and insightful than that and filled with interesting observations about human nature and how we lose our humanity. It was not an easy read, but I got a lot from it. It also lead me to some new historical information that was unknown to me previously.

My friend Barry introduced me to Green Thoughts: A Writer in the Garden by Eleanor Perényi. A post I wrote outlining the traits that make a good gardener reminded him of an essay in the book called “Failures”, all about how failure is an essential part of gardening. Unfortunately I am yet to find a copy of the original gem published in 1981, but I scooped up this reissued version on the cheap at a discount bookstore I frequent here in Toronto. Since then I’ve been doling the book out in chunks, opening it up at random pages and reading it essay by essay. The writing is beautiful and I was surprised to discover, very funny. Eleanor Perényi has a wry, sometimes slightly wicked sense of humor and a general ease about gardening that I can relate to. She takes the piss out of herbalists (although I do not agree with what she says about herbs), pesticide use, and sexism in gardening, while making an elegant plea for earthworms and weeds at a time in the gardening world when such things desperately needed an advocate. You’ll like this book.

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Garden 52

Photo by Gayla Trail  All Rights Reserved

The other day I realized that I am in a garden everyday during the growing season, enjoying some pretty fantastic things that never show up on this site. It’s not uncommon for me to visit a stunning garden and take hundreds of photos that I never get around to posting here. I’m still sitting on photos from Cuba I took 2 winters ago, a trip to the Highline in New York City last October, and countless other gems. Let’s not talk about the folders and folders and stacks of film from my month-long trip to the Caribbean.

Yikes.

But my recent acquisition of an iphone has made it so much easier for me (albeit with less clarity) to grab a quick snap of something inspiring and share it online in real time, or very near real time. I figured if I made a project that forced me to stop what I am doing once a day, take a photo, and then post it online, I might have a nice collection at the end of the year.

Photo by Gayla Trail  All Rights Reserved

Unfortunately, I suspect that capturing an interesting garden image daily might get difficult during the growing season so I’ve decided to name the project Garden 52. That way I am only pushed to come up with one photo a week during the off season. I think we’d all grow bored looking at dim and slightly blurry photos of my houseplants day after day come December.

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I have also started a group on Flickr where members can take part and post their own daily/weekly garden updates.

Every other Friday I will update here with some highlights from the group.

Won’t you join us?

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Calibrachoa ‘Double Lemon’

Photo by Gayla Trail  All Rights Reserved

I don’t know what it is about this year, but not only am I branching out into plants I’ve always wanted but didn’t think I had the space to keep, but it seems I am also turning to plants I have never shown past interest in. In fact, I have previously held my nose up at some of these plants.

I am scaring myself just a little bit.

This spring, my eyes fell upon this double calibrachoa hidden among petunias and single calibrachoas at one of the garden centres I frequent. The next thing I know I have bought it and am growing it on the roof where I can visit it most often. I went back and bought one for a friend, too.

What is happening? Nearly halfway into 2010 and my Year of the ID, is devolving into the Year of WTF?

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p.s. I was just about to hit post when I received an email from Derek Powazek about his newest piece about gardening: They Don’t Complain and They Die Quietly. Great story that made me tear up.

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Save Me

Photo by Gayla Trail  All Rights Reserved

Nina Simone belts, “Save me, somebody save me” through my headphones and even though I know she is singing about a love gone wrong, not gardening, for just a moment I think she is singing about me. This could be my current theme song.

You see, I might be drowning. In plants. And gardening. And plants that must be planted. And gardens that must be gardened. And a spring that is more like a dry, hot summer, and tomatoes that are making fruit faster than I can get them in the ground.

In a word, this gardening season is manic. SOS.

I’m not sleeping well these days and I seem to be grinding my teeth at night. And yet I am enjoying myself. The ship feels like it is sinking but I am going down smiling. I don’t really want to be saved, although some time off from work, life, cooking, cleaning, and basic daily hygiene would provide the extra time I require to really get caught up.

The other day a friend emailed about all of the plants she just acquired, lamenting where she was gonna put them all. I nodded in agreement but didn’t return her email. Who has time for email when there are trays of seedlings waiting in cue that need to get in the soil?

I’ve come to the conclusion that we gardeners (some of us anyways) enjoy the chaos, just a little bit. We love the frenzied, manic pace of the spring planting. We love that it gives us something to bitch about. “The chaos“, we moan, “I shall never be freed from this chaos!” And we aren’t, until the winter when the gardens are finally put to bed (or as good as) and we find ourselves twiddling our thumbs and lamenting the boredom and suffering of the off season. “It’s too cold,” we cry, “When will this persecution end?

Yet somehow, all of this begins with a desire to create a calm, tranquil green space — a mania that leads to a serenity of sorts. Not that I ever stop and sit still in my garden spaces long enough to reach that kind of inner calm. There is always something to do; I enjoy the doing. Like photography, gardening is meditation in motion for me. And it achieves what sitting still meditation, tai chi (which actually made me very angry), and yoga have never been able to achieve.

There is a logic in here that I can’t quite get to. Perhaps it will come to me later today while I’m potting up the tray of new herbs I brought home yesterday or planting the bean seeds that are over-soaking as I write this. Do not forget the beans!

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p.s. The photo (above) is of a bunch of pots I have sitting in the partial shade side of my roof garden. That space against the wall is reserved for plants that can’t stand the punishing heat of full sun portions of the roof, or that are being hardened off. I’ve posted a larger photo with notes over here.

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