Little Promises

Lilac 2 flower bud Oct 27 2017

It’s official – winter is nigh

Snowfall has come, dark clouds are high

Leaves are all gone leaving branches so bare

Hoping these buds bring flowers to the air

Next spring.

 

Magnolia Bud November 4 2017

Magnolia acuminata flower bud

 

Korean Spicebush November 4 2017

Viburnum carlesii – Korean Spicebush flower bud

Aronia melanocarpa flower bud Oct 27 2017

Aronia melanocarpa – Black Chokeberry flower buds

Forsythia flower bud Oct 27 2017

Forsythia ovata flower buds

 

*** These photos were taken about a week ago before the first frost and fist dusting of snow; today, almost all the leaves are either gone or very very brown…

 

 

Glow after First Frost

In the wee hours of yesterday morning a wave of frost rolled over the field and gardens closest to the house.  I had, perhaps instinctively, cut and brought in for drying all the sweet and Thai basil the day before so no loss there.  Hardest hit were the Canna Lilies, cantaloupe, zinnias and, sadly,  my overgrown jungle of Amethyst Jewel cherry tomatoes.

Wanna know what happens when you try to pull a cherry tomato plant after frost?

The tomatoes fall.  With the lightest touch, they fall like marble size pieces of purple hail.  And, I discovered, they make a nice ‘pop’ when you happen to step on any that land in the grass on its way to the wheelbarrow and compost pile.

Anyway.

Here is a portion of my frost touched cherry tomato bed, glowing in this morning’s light.

Amethyst Jewel frost hit Oct 17 2017
Glow

In Praise of a Not Very Spectacular Native Shrub

Snowberry.  Doesn’t the name conjures up images of large, juicy, creamy berries produced after pollinators have spent the summer happily buzzing amongst fluttery, multi-petaled white flowers?

Then you add the botanical name, Symphoricarpos albus, and reality sets in.  Latin can really be a buzzkill sometimes.

For me, the Snowberry is a memory pant — a shrub I remember from when I was a kid, lining (along with honeysuckle and blackberry canes) the rural road I walked along to catch the school bus.

There is absolutely nothing spectacular about this deciduous shrub, except perhaps that it’s native to almost all of Canada (and much of the U.S. as well) – that in itself should give it bonus points!  The flowers are so small you need to be within a few inches for them to be noticeable.   The berries are, indeed, white, but they are smallish, inedible for us and even unappetizing to birds.

1 Symphoricarpus albus Snowberry July 22 2017 a (2)

Symphoricarpos albus – Snowberry in July

This last tidbit may be why they stay on the bush into fall and winter, providing some interest when the rest of the landscape is grey or brown.

I like it because it grows well in my limestoney soil with no pampering or watering (even during last year’s prolonged drought, when the leaves drooped a lot but recovered nicely) and in the semi to mostly shade of the tree line (More berries are produced with more sun).  Although they may sucker after a while they’re pretty contained, growing to maybe six feet high and wide.  I can see them being a useful as a hedge or as a low visual barrier if you want to create a hidden patio; also a great shrub to fill in spots amongst trees if you don’t want to worry about grass  or perennials yet want some greenery.  And although it may be the food of last resort for birds, it does provide shelter for wildlife.

If you see this shrub at a garden centre and you have a bare spot in the yard consider Snowberry.  Maybe create some memories of your own.

4 Shileau & Snowberry Sept 19 2017

Shileau steals the spotlight from the Snowberry

Favourite (almost) Fall Flowers

More than three weeks left in summer.  Officially.  But with days getting noticeably shorter and temperatures several degrees cooler than average (single digits when we got out of bed yesterday – Shileau came down the stairs with me but then just curled up on the couch!) it really is beginning to feel a lot like autumn.

To emphasize that point, I harvested my first pumpkin on Saturday – one of the half dozen growing in the composter.  (I need to find a recipe that uses pumpkin and puff pastry…)

Here’s what’s going gangbusters in my garden now along with a few just starting, a few new to me and a few trying to hang onto to their mid-summer glory.

Big Leaved Aster Aug 19 2017

Big Leaved Aster, Eurybia macrophylla:  an individual plant isn’t much to look at but when you have masses of them together at the edge of a woodland garden the effect is stunning.  An Ontario native plant, if grows in dry shade!!!

I spot great heaps of Russian Sage (Perovskia atriplicifolia) everywhere but this is the first year my one plant has given me any kind of display.  The Cup Plant (Silphium perfoliatum) I’ve written about is now in its eight foot glory and the Sunflowers (Helianthus annuus) are magnificent – both the few I planted (above) and the ones that found their way into my garden from plants a year or two ago — some appear to be small trees, 10 or 12 feet high.

New to my garden this year are these white Iris given by a friend.  They bloomed profusely in the spring and now they’re sending up a few, select, stalks to provide welcome contrast to the lush greenery everywhere.  I brought this Sneezeweed (Helenium autumnale) home from my visit to the native plant nursery in July.  It had a bit of mildew then and is now covered with it yet still has given some remarkable, small, flowers.  Hopefully next year the mildew will stay away.

Just starting are Sedum specabile – even before it starts to pink up it gets swarmed by bees:  Sedum spectabile

Although not really a flower (although one bolted early on so yes, there were flowers…) I’m including this kale – I’ve never grown it before and am entranced by the curly, crinkly foliage – so much so I’ve not been able to cut off any leaves to eat:

Kale

Finally, still going strong, are my Rudbekias.  Once again here are two photos of Rudbeckia laciniata, the first paired with Ironweed (Vernonia fasiculata), another Ontario native.

 

Sunday Surprise

pumkin growing in compost bins

I’m seriously serious about composting.  Almost the first thing we did after buying our Prince Edward County property was build this huge compost bin.  I think I had seen something like it on a BBC gardening show.  I think we had fantasies of being able to drive the shovel of a small garden tractor into the bins to turn the stuff over.  No more using shovels or pitchforks for me.

Oh well.

The system works, in its own way, like a charm, (my) manual labour involved notwithstanding.  There’s no water where it’s situated at the back of the field so it generally takes longer for plant material to break down than it did in my small city black plastic with a lid composter.  But that’s OK because I have three bins to work with.

The first year I pile new stuff in one bin, filling it to the top by the end of the season.  The next year I start fresh with the next bin and let the first  just sit there, using a heavy fork to turn stuff over every now and then, to get air to the bottom of the pile.

I start the third year by screening the first year’s material – dumping finished compost in the third bin, and putting the unfinished stuff in the second bin to continue breaking down.  This leaves me with the first bin empty and ready to use.

Sounds complicated but it’s not.  Until this year.  Mid May something sprouted in the middle bin. Now, a lot of things sprout in the compost bins — tomato seedlings, Rudbeckia, various weeds, garlic, Virginia Creeper…but this one plant seemed to have strength and purpose.  It became large very quickly and was obviously some sort of squash so I left it alone.  I like squash.  And I loved the huge leaves this vine produced – so much larger than the leaves of anything I had ever purposefully planted!  And by mid July it was obvious – it was a pumpkin vine. I had grown pie pumpkins last year and one seed survived the winter.

So now I have a withering vine (it is August after all, and it’s been rather dry the past few weeks) and six good sized pie pumpkins growing.  And I notice, on Saturday, a large burrow going into the middle compost head, directly under where the pumpkin sprouted.  It looked like it could have been made by a skunk or a fox, hopefully not by a rat!

On Sunday I went out back to dump kitchen scraps and the whole centre of the compost pile had been torn out.  There, in a hole in the middle, was this.  I very quickly left the immediate vicinity.  And spent the day puzzling about what creature in our back field was brave enough or big enough to attack such a huge nest.

bee nest uncovered in compost pile