You Grow Girlâ„¢

Subsequent to my incessant complaining, Spring arrived. Technically it appeared weeks ago, but in reality Spring happened on Good Friday, continuing clear through to Easter Monday. It was spectacular. I suspect there will be a series of encores before the onset of summer.

The essence off it this year was the quietness, a long holiday weekend kind of quiet. It was warm enough that my toes felt mighty good in sandals. That they were newly pedicured toes gave additional smug pleasure.

I wanted to rake, but I know better than to rake too soon, dragging around wet leaves and tearing up damp grass. I raked those areas already dried by the sun, uncovering shoots from some of the 75 or so bulbs planted last autumn. In September 02 I hit the bulb jackpot; Two bulb sets I had ordered were not available and in lieu I was sent VAST quantities of blue flowering bulbs, mostly tulips. Not my first choice in plant or in colour, but I found areas to plant them en mass; in front of the zebra grass, under the apple trees, and I sent many along to my mother.

I have an ongoing battle with the weeds creeping in under the fence from next door. I invented another solution; raking tight sausage rolls of leaves up against the fence, and then covering them with evergreen boughs. It is apparent that this rusting little fence, propped up with old pickets, will need replacing. And the fence on the other side; a 6 foot tall Gothic number propped up by parked trucks, is going to have a replacement this year too. This will be a DIY activity which will end up in much arguing, a bit of wasted money, and in all honesty I wish I could call Daddy up and just have him take care of it. Nothing ever seems to go wrong when he looks after stuff like that. In return I feed him, supply beer and relinquish the remote control.

With all these bulbs planted Squirrels are now top on the enemy list. I have two strategies; tossing garlic cloves and onions all over the planted areas, and scattering bonemeal. It is my understanding that the smell of bones bothers them, and that garlic repels them. We shall see. In any case I should be safe from vampires.

I get all gooey over the birds; robins, chickadees, woodpeckers and mourning doves. I invented the worlds best ever feeder, which looks like a spaceship. It has the feeder on the main level and a bird bath on the mezzanine.

I also made a pop bottle feeder.

I feel some guilt that owning a cat has reduced the bird presence in my yard and I am working to regain their trust. I put out the big bird bath they like so much; long-tailed grackles perched in a line on the fence waiting their turn for a splash, looking so much like a row of grandmothers at the community pool.

Last year the neighbours tore down their rotting old garage and installed a brand new one. While this may look great I have been consumed with worry over the bats.

I have a thickly treed yard and the sight of bat acrobatics at dusk gives me comfort that the mosquito population is being kept in check. As an interspecies Habitat-for-Humanity gesture I bought two bat houses at the farm co-op, painting them a dark flat gray before Michael installed them.

For two years I have carted around blueprints for a build your own version but I never would have done a good job and the materials alone would have cost more than I paid for the finished product.

On the indoor front I have been coping well with the glut of seedlings. I am going away for almost two weeks and will surrender the care of these fragile babies to two non-gardening, hard-drinking friends. To make it easier I decided to harden off my plants early and move them all into the sunporch together, where temperatures at night are far cooler than in the house and watering is a far easier chore.

They are doing fine, with the peppers and tomatillos already potted up in their outdoor planters. Another reason for the move was that the closeness of the swiftly growing plants under lights had attracted large numbers of fruit flies and I was worried they were not getting adequate air circulation. In the sunporch I have a ceiling fan running constantly and the bugs have now disappeared entirely.

In reviewing this journal entry, and my last one, going over materials used, soils and amendments purchased, electrical devices on standby, I am reminded once again of something that occurs to me every year; that while I shun the higher priced items at the grocery store I am, easily, producing produce that must run in the 10 dollar per kilo range. For us city gardeners, especially those of us obsessive about quality control, this is a fact of life. So consider the act of gardening as therapy, and as an equivalent to a gym membership, and the cost tumbles. My habit, and that is exactly what it is, supports my mental and physical well-being, and provides an excess of superb salads and soups for candlelit evenings out on the verandah with friends. Toss in this ambiance factor and we’re laughing. But I re-evaluate again and my equation has some added factors to consider; When I bought my own home I moved from plastic pots to their posh cousins known as “containers” in the gardening glossies. This is a dangerous form of collecting that can run into hundreds of dollars. I have survived financially with the clever re-use of other beautiful items for “containers”. I was the grateful recipient of several dozen round, red clay, chimney liners given to me by my sister Sara. They had been cut down into convenient lengths that each hold one tomato plant perfectly. These line my verandah all summer. The link to my gardening images is www.luxlounge.com/rachel if you care so see some of my outdoor arrangements from last year. I am certain that this year will be a best-ever. I have taken more care and common sense and tough love and spent just a tiny bit more money than normal on all the right gardening things. I received, at Christmas, a pair of bypass pruners and trimmers that you might as well wear in a holster; with teak handles and glistening metal they are the apple of my eye.

Where else do gardeners spend money? Well I compost like mad and leaf mulch like mad so I don’t bother much with any supplements other than the occasional bag of composted manure to richen the potting mix I provide for my transplants. This year I am trying a shrimp based one that is blacker than coal and, if looks are any indication, should be a real champ. I have also given up on grass seed, filling in my thin areas with a nitrogen fixing mixture of clovers and alfalfa. Although I do away with large areas of lawn every year what remains I want to look sharp.

I’ve moved some of my gardener’s compassion out to the front sidewalk (contest! What do you call that rectangle of grass with the tree on it that actually belongs to the city but you have to look after it? A prize to the best name…). Although you risk losing any major plantings I have found it a good place to use some contents of my Guerilla Gardening kit (we all have one, right? Seeds one year past due, nameless perennial and annual seeds collected but forgotten about, bags of bean seeds that did not work out at your location…stuff you can plant randomly about town and then wish it the best).

Another gardening expenditure is, of course, the drinks. Once the clock has gone past five I find myself whipping up a spritzer or cracking open some fancy monastery brewed beer. For sure gardening has upped my intake of quality alcohol. My neighbours are forever having their “Hello!”s returned with a raised glass and a wink as I lean on my rake. I am never asked to babysit.

So now it’s off to France for two weeks and crossed fingers for the seedlings. I sound upbeat now but should I return to fallen over, withered plants heads will roll!