Let the Sun Shine

Ten straight days of rain and one flooded basement later, the sun has finally emerged. Hallelujah! I was starting to feel a bit like Noah in his ark here, all cooped up in doors with an infant, a toddler, a dog and a cat and the floodwaters rising all around me. We are all in great need of some sunshine and a little drying out--especially my poor garden.

I know rain is good for the garden, but this relentless downpour has wrecked havoc on mine. The "lawn" has grown a good six inches and the weeds a solid foot, and I never managed to plant my lettuces or my flower boxes. I have six packs of geraniums, verbena, and ... that have been sitting around and waiting to be planted for a month now. Where does the time go?

So, when the sun finally emerged yesterday at 7:00 p.m., I told the husband and children to fend for themselves, and I went straight out to work in the garden for a few hours and soak up the sunshine. Amen.

Mission Accomplished!

Today we ventured into town to explore the Old Mission, established in 1786. I can imagine that back then it was a pretty primitive place, but today it is a tranquil oasis in the middle of a hot and bustling city. (I think it reached 85 degrees today!). It was also a good place to take an energetic little boy. Turns out that hacienda-style architecture and interior courtyard is the perfect place to let Colin loose to walk or run or push is stroller around and around. He can't run out into the on-coming traffic in a walled garden, now can he?



God's advice to monks? Whoever said it, it was good advice.


Yep, those are roses ... in December.

The only problem with our little outing was that halfway through it Kevin pulled out his back. What are the odds? Two weeks ago, I did the same thing, and was laid up in bed for almost a week. Actually, given the fact that we are the parents to a very energetic almost-two-year-old, it is perhaps not so surprising that we both have had the same injuries back-to-back, so to speak. I think Colin's got the odds stacked against us.

A hundred-year-old fig tree. Unbelievable!




Mama's little angel.

What's up in the garden?

Despite a late start and two late-season snowfalls, my garden is finally up and running. And what is today: July 3rd? No wonder I always lose hope that anything will come of my gardening efforts in the far North. Back home in Arkansas, the vegetable season is nearly over by the beginning of July, and here my veggies are just getting started.

So how does my garden grow? Right now the corn and bean bushes are about a foot high, my miscellaneous melons have sprouted, and the radish and carrots are standing tall in their military lines. I also have more lettuce than I know what to do with. These pictures are about 10 days old already--and boy you wouldn't recognize the veggie beds now. Why, just this morning, Kevin looked out the kitchen window and yelled, "Sarah, come quick, a green monster has attacked your vegetable beds!" In fact, it was just my outta control brassicas. Turns out, I have the perfect conditions for cabbages, and, with a little help from the extended family of robins residing in our backyard, they've sowed themselves in every nook and cranny of the garden.

Sadly, the only things that haven't done much this year are the heirloom flowers. The bachelor buttons, daisies, echinacea and hollyhocks have all sprouted, but they're growing so slowly I don't think they'll catch up before the frost comes. Likewise, my sunflowers are doing their best, but I just don't think the backyard flowerbed gets enough sun. Unfortunately, when I was planning that flowerbed, it was early spring, and the backyard appeared to get full sun all day long. But now that our hundred-year-old oak tree has leafed out, there's barely an inch of sunlight in the whole backyard. Not that I'm complaining. Shade is something rare and precious on the Alberta Prairies. I'll just chalk it up to experience and buy shady varieties next year.

The bush beans made a surprise appearance--three weeks late.

Miscellaneous melons growing between my rows of corn.

The chives are flowering next to the strawberries and raspberries. (I ran out of compost and substituted potting soil instead. I think that was probably a mistake.)

For future reference, three kinds of lettuce is more than enough. Here are Black-seeded Simposon (front), Merveille de Quatre Saisons (back right), and Drunken Woman (back left).

But the real secret to my garden's success was the careful attention of my garden assistant.

Botanic Gardening

Given that there was a seemingly endless amount of work that needed to be done in my own garden this past weekend, I chucked the whole idea of weeding a mowing for a day and decided to go to a garden where I could just stop and smell the roses for a change. So Kevin, Colin and I packed up and headed out to the Devonian Botanical Garden, about 35 km outside of Edmonton.

On about 190 acres of arid Alberta farmland, the University of Alberta has installed traditional Alpine and Japanese gardens, herb, perennial and water gardens, and several display greenhouses. Although the past few years of serious drought have left the grounds a little dry, it's still an oasis of green in the heart of the Alberta plains. Visiting always makes me a little heartsick for the lush royal gardens we toured in Europe, but I'm also heartened by the fact the someone--some foolhardy transplanted gardener, no doubt--cared enough about being surrounded by beauty to go to all the trouble to create this magnificent garden in a region where things only grow three months out of the year.

And when we were there this past week, the gardens where in their full glory. The poppies, irises, and lilacs were all at their peak, and the air was practically humming with bees and butterflies. Colin found the butterflies particularly enchanting. He was also, unfortunately, enchanted by all the open bodies of water and kept trying to hurl himself into the cala and lily ponds. Still, it's a garden to be thankful for--only thank God I didn't have to mow it!

"Gather ye rosebuds while ye may..."

Ironically, the Rosa arkansana has failed to really flourish in the Alberta soil.

Kevin leading Colin on his first Alpine hike.

The Japanese Garden

As far as I can tell, the only things growing in the "Plants of Alberta" bed are weeds.

Colin liked the curves on this one.

Hunting Mushrooms

Mushroom season is upon us, and even though Alberta is not exactly known for its edible 'shrooms, I've been bitten by the mushroom hunting bug. I've been hunting mushrooms under the old spruce and fir trees in our front yard, checking every day to see their little white caps poking up from beneath the needles. I've dragged my family out to the local farmers' market very early on a Saturday morning so that we can get first pick of the wild morels and chanterelles trucked in from the woods of British Columbia. I've even ventured into the dusty recesses of our basement to dig out a pair of mushroom prints I bought back in Germany, which I'm finally going to have framed.


And while I hope that one day I can go on a real mushroom hunt, in the meantime I'm content to hunt them a little closer to home. Luckily, I found this nifty little mushroom puzzle on Etsy that will allow me to satisfy my mushroom hunting urges from the safety and comfort of my own living room. It's made by the talented team at Xylocopa Designs, and each mushroom is based on a real species of fungus and cut from one of four different types of wood. I am just blown away by the artistry and craftsmanship that went into its design. My only complaint (which is not really a complaint at all) is that the mushrooms aren't identified. I guess this means I'll just have to buy a mushroom field guide and start hunting them down, one by one.

Tomorrow: Recipes for eating all of those tasty mushrooms I foraged at my local farmer's market.

The Garden is IN!

A full weekend of good weather--and some serious "father-son time" for Kevin and Colin--allowed me to get the final bits of my garden planted-out this past weekend. So far this year, I'm doing everything from seed (provided by the good people over at Heritage Harvest Seed Co., but I always find that planting from seed--especially in our Zone 3 climate--requires a huge leap of faith. We only have a three-month growing season, and I just can't believe that seeds can germinate, sprout, flower and fruit all within three months.

Part of my problem may be that the only other year I have planted from seed in Edmonton I didn't get to see my garden grow. Kevin and I were in Germany for the entire month of August, and, by the time we got back, the frost had just arrived. Our housesitter said the garden was glorious, but I needed to see it to believe it. There had been nothing but a bunch of short weedy things when we left in July.

Of course, Mother Nature is full of surprises. I sowed the first half of the garden two weeks ago--the lettuces, chard, radishes, and carrots--and despite the near constant freezing rain and the two late-season snowfalls, I saw the first little sprouts over the weekend. I had nearly given up hope, but then again, I'm a very impatient gardener. In fact, were I ever to write a gardening book it would would be called The Impatient Gardener and would feature only very precocious varieties.

The radishes have arrived ...

... but will anything come of my tiny tomatoes?

However, I'm going to try one more season from seed and see if anything comes of it. So without further ado, here's the full list for Summer 2010:

Bean, Thibodeau de Comte Beauce
Bean, Improved Golden Wax
Carrot, Scarlet Nantes
Cabbage, Early Jersey Wakefield
Chard, Five-colour Silverbeet
Corn, Simonet
Lettuce, Black Seeded Simpson
Lettuce, Drunken Woman
Lettuce, Merveille des Quatre Saisons
Pea, Homesteader
Radish, Cherry Belle
Rhubarb
Tomato, Andrina Cherry
Tomato, Bison
Tomato, Sophie's Choice
Basil, Lettuce Leaf
Chives
Cilantro
Dill
Thyme
Bachelor Buttons, Jubilee Gem
Calendula
Cosmos, "Sensations"
Daisy, Shasta
Daisy, Painted
Echinacea
Hollyhock, "Nigra"
Nasturtium,“Empress of India”
Poppy, "Mary’s Ukrainian"
Sunflower, Arikara
Sunflower, Italian White
Sunflower, Velvet Queen
Zinnia, Creeping


The rhubarb (which I "borrowed" from an obliging field) is doing very well ...

... but, as usual, my best crop is dandelions.