A Festive Holiday Window Box

This morning's walk with the dog led to the local garden centre, where I searched for greenery for the Christmas holiday window planters. The selection was extremely underwhelming. Luckily, there was more than enough in my own garden to make up for it. 

Empty window planters waiting for a seasonal touch

Having a yew means always having enough greenery to build a solid backdrop for your winter planter. Yew is very hardy. A few snips now to steal away some branches will mean the shrub will just come back better in spring.

The dark green needles of yew make
an excellent background for a window planter

I made two purchases at the garden centre: boxwood and winterberry branches. Boxwood provides a nice, light-green contrast to the dark green of the yew. The berries provide the eye-catching pop of red that makes a window planter scream "festive", "holidays", and "Christmas". I hope one day that my Ilex verticillata "Red Sprite" Winterberry produces more berries than it does. Until that day, I'll have to supplement with purchased branches.

Boxwood stays evergreen and provides 
a contrast to the dark green of yew

The eye-catching red of berries is a must
for a holiday window planter

Because fresh, berry-laden branches can be quite expensive, I added a branch of fake decorative berries (I pull it out of basement storage every holiday season) to add a little more colour.

From a distance, no one will ever know
that these berries are fake

Like yew, euonymus is a shrub that just keeps on giving.  I cut a few branches from a shrub that has been growing in my garden for twenty-three years. I chose branches that best showed off the orange berries that appear each fall.

Some orange berries to go with the red

I don't particularly have a designer's eye, but I find a foolproof method of creating a successful window box planter is volume. The more, the better. I put the yew, boxwood, winterberries, and euonymus in the box in as pleasing a way as I could. Then, I grabbed some smaller bits of yew and filled in all the empty spaces. The result is pleasing, if I do say so myself. 

Holiday window planter looking festive

Years ago, I hired a garden and landscape company to create festive planters to welcome Christmas and to add a touch of colour through the bleak winter months. Thanks to an abundance of evergreens in my own garden, I can now create these festive seasonal decorations on my own and at a fraction of the cost.

Ready for the holidays and winter

Merry Christmas! Happy New Year! Happy Holidays to you and yours. 

Most important (in my humble opinion)—Happy Gardening!

Bonchi: An Overwintering Project

Although October has served up above-average temperatures, the rush is on to wind down the garden for winter. The cucumbers, eggplants, and potatoes ran out of steam a while ago. The cherry tomatoes continue to produce, but at a much slower pace. There's one small watermelon still on the vine. And, today, the hot peppers delivered a minuscule harvest, but I'll take it. 

Some like it hot! A small hot pepper harvest including
chili and ghost peppers

Normally, my pepper plants would go into the compost bin or into yard waste collection bags to be taken away by the city, but by some weird coincidence of timing, today—while wasting time on social media—I discovered the Bonchi. 

A Bonchi is a pepper plant that is cared for and cultivated in the manner of a Bonsai tree. Bonsai + chili = Bonchi. The pepper plants, with their thick gnarly stems, resemble bonsai trees and they produce peppers prolifically. Needless to say, this became an overwintering project that needed to happen immediately. Here are the steps I took to create my first Bonchi.

Find a container. Fill it with small stones to give it good
drainage and to ensure the depth is fairly shallow

Pull your pepper from the soil

Shake the soil loose from the rootball. Rinse the 
rootball so that no soil remains

Get a pair of sharp scissors, and prepare to
give the rootball a good cut

Cut back the roots

Add some soil to your container. Fan
the pepper roots over the top. Cover with a very
light layer of soil leaving a few of the
thicker roots exposed

So far, so good. Right? Now comes the scary part! It's time to shear back your pepper plant. I used a ghost pepper that was not particularly robust this summer—it was in a location that was a tad too shady and a tad to damp. Still, cutting it back made me sad and a little nervous.

Ghost pepper prior to being cut back

Cut back the pepper to a first set of leaves 
and in a way that mimics bonsai trees. Notice that
my Bonchi is leaning slightly for a windswept effect

At this point, you are ready to place your Bonchi in a sunny window and wait for it to come back stronger than ever. Finding a spot with enough sunlight (about six hours per day), especially during the dreary winter months ahead, may be the biggest challenge of this experiment. I have a red hot chili pepper plant that I plan to treat in the same way. If these peppers succeed, proper bonsai-style pots will be the next step. This project promises all the fun of a bonsai in a fraction of the time.

Are you planning to overwinter any of your plants?  

Happy gardening to all!

Invader: The Losing Battle Against Weeds

Every summer there comes a time when the garden does not look its best. Weeds have spent months quietly establishing themselves on bare patches of soil where they have then proceeded to thrive.

A messy, weedy section of the garden

Clover is not an especially offensive weed. It can look quite nice, and there are good reasons to include some clover in your lawn, but I don't want it in my flower beds. If it grows out of control, which it can do very quickly, it is easy enough to pull.

Clover feeling lucky to have found a spot
to thrive in my Toronto garden

Some weeds are very clever and even beautiful, so much so that I am sometimes convinced to let them grow. Sadly, a single flower one year can lead to a hostile takeover of the garden the next. I learned this the hard way with Commelina communis, commonly known as Asiatic day flower. I am a sucker for true blue in the garden, so when this blue stranger bloomed, I let it be. Now, I am doomed to forever curse these flowers; they simply will not quit.

Don't be fooled by this pretty blue flower:
Commelina communis is a noxious weed

The fight against weeds is a tough one to win. While nature is at work in the garden 24/7, I often need an afternoon nap. The losing battle inspired this poem.

Invader

The naïve gardener who insists on sleep

stands a mere chance against the intrusion

Dog-strangling vine, twining tightly 

up trees helpless in its death clutch

In wilting summer heat,

a stem is sliced with sultry abandon

The aggressive alien, wounded, 

pauses its advance, waiting

The gardener relaxes, unsuspecting, satisfied

Still, encroachment continues in the dog days

Unless pulled from deep in the earth

the invader’s infiltration is certain

Commelina communis is an aggressive spreader

Back to the garden I go. There is weeding to be done.

Happy Gardening!

Under the Catalpa Tree

There is a remarkable tree in my neighbourhood that dates back more than 125 years. For standing and growing as long as it has, the tree has been recognized as a Heritage Tree, a program of Trees Ontario and the Ontario Urban Forest Council.

Catalpa tree on Davenport Road, Toronto

The tree is a Catalpa, a deciduous tree native to North America, the Caribbean, and parts of Asia. It grows quickly and is appreciated for its showy, ornamental flowers.  The heritage tree is enormous. It grows on a hillside. Its main trunk leans out at an angle over the sidewalk before rising to the sky.

Twisted trunk of the Catalpa tree

The trunk is twisted and contorted and the bark is marked by deep fissures.

Heart-shaped leaves of the Catalpa tree

The leaves are heart-shaped and broader than the span of a hand.

The orchid-like flowers of the Catalpa tree

The tree produces orchid-like flowers in June. The flowers are a pure white, while the throats of the blooms are purple and yellow. They are showstoppers!

Since I first discovered the existence of this tree a few years ago, I have made a point of walking to see it in bloom each spring. This year on my walk, I reflected on growing a little older, and the passage of time became more prominent in my thoughts. I imagined what this Catalpa tree might have seen and experienced during its more-than-a-century of existence. I admired its persistence across time and was humbled by it. The experience inspired this poem.  

Under the Catalpa Tree

Under the catalpa tree

in the shade of a giant

leaves larger than the span of my outstretched hands

Palms to the sky

neck craned

spinning,

slowly,

seeking sunlight through dense green canopy

Under the catalpa tree

trunk thick, tall, and twisted

contortions of time recognized by my aging body

Knees bend

bone on bone crunches

feet gripping,

grasping,

climbing higher yet seeking direction

Under the catalpa tree

enticed by invitations of pure snowy orchids

deeper into striped purple and yellow throats

Eyes strain

squinting into the depths

probing for purpose,

calling for clarity,

seeking focus

Under the catalpa tree

in the presence of memory

in the presence of a century

I am dwarfed 

by my own inconsequential history

You can read more about the remarkable Catalpa tree that inspired this poem at this link.

Click on the link for a map of Ontario Heritage Trees. I think following this map has great potential for an amazing road trip.

Happy Gardening!

Wasaga Shores

The first time I wrote a poem was in 2016.  I was working on a certificate in Creative Writing, and one of the mandatory courses was called Reading for Creative Writing. Naturally, it ended up being heavily weighted to poetry 😝. When it came time to submit a poem as an assignment, I turned to the shores of Wasaga Beach for inspiration.

Gull soars over Wasaga Beach at sunset

The fiery reds and flaming oranges of Wasaga sunsets are breathtaking. I thought of them while writing "Wasaga Shores."

Wasaga Beach sunset

Wasaga Shores

on the sandy passage to shallow water

under the cardinal sunset sky

the honey sweet scent of balsam poplar

endless firmament

pin cherry berry red

sundown, luscious to the eye

trembling aspens quiver

slight waves crest

the rise and fall of reliable measure

elysium

Wasaga Beach sunset through the trees

At a time when mindfulness is promoted as a way to be fully present in a moment, as a way to relax the body and mind, and as a way to reduce stress, I realize that my best (and maybe only) mindful moments happen when I am standing by the water watching the sun go down. Every sunset is different and holds my attention completely. Here are a just few of the sunset pictures I've taken during years of visits to the beach.

A place for peaceful reflection
Wasaga Beach, Ontario

A calming pastel sky, Wasaga Beach

Drama in the clouds, Wasaga Beach

Serene moment on the shore
Wasaga Beach, Ontario

Tranquility by the water
Wasaga Beach, Ontario

After I finished my mandatory creative writing course, I quickly put the poetry away. I was no poet, and I was glad to be done with it. But, I held on to "Wasaga Shores." It was a bit of personal creative expression that I was (and am) very happy with.

When I discovered an unexpected interest in poetry earlier this year and challenged myself to write about my garden and the natural world that moves me, I knew that I would share the poem that started it all.

Wasaga Beach paddleboarder at sunset

Here's hoping that you find your "Wasaga Shores", like I did mine.

Happy Gardening!

A Shower of Acorns on the Cottage Roof

The summers in southern Ontario are all too brief. By the time the last chance of frost has passed in mid- to late-May, there are just four short months before the danger of a first frost in early to mid-October. Needless to say, there is a mad scramble to enjoy the fleeting heat and blazing sunshine to the fullest.

Seagull enjoying the spectacular
views at Wasaga Beach

I am very lucky to be able to spend some of my summer weekends on the sandy shores of Wasaga Beach. Five years ago, I realized a dream I didn't even know I had until it came true: the purchase of a modest cottage that became my family's beach-town retreat. It allows us to spend time away from the chaos of the city and in the outdoors enjoying nature.

Cottage through the trees

All around the cottage, the air is filled with the sound of birds and insects. In the distance, on a breezy day, it's easy to hear the waves crash to shore. Overhead, in the towering oaks, the leaves rustle and the squirrels chirp. Depending on the time of year, the sound of falling acorns bouncing off the cottage roof is unmistakeable.  All of these sounds inspired a poem.

A Shower of Acorns on the Cottage Roof

A shower of acorns

—bonk, bonk, bink-bonk—

on the cottage roof

A skitter-scatter of squirrel feet

Cottage country sun 

rises on late summer’s morning dew

Blue jays squawk

Crows caw and coo

A shower of acorns

—bonk, bink-bonk, bink—

on the cottage roof

A pitter-patter of chipmunk feet

Cottage country winds

roar across the bay

Rat-a-tat-tat, red-bellied woodpecker pecks

Chickadee-dee-dee welcomes the day

A shower of acorns

—bonk, bonk, bink-bonk—

on the cottage roof

A bumpety thump bump of rabbit feet

Cottage country waves

reach for the shore

Loons hoot, gulls screech

Dog scritch-scratches at the screen door

A shower of acorns

—bonk, bink-bonk, bink—

on the cottage roof

Dragonflies flutter in the breeze

Cottage country mosquitoes

buzz, buzz, buzzing in my ears

In the quiet of nature so serene

it's a wonder the humans get any sleep

A wild rabbit in Wasaga Beach

Happy Gardening!

Ludwig: A Love Story

Lilac "Ludwig Spaeth" was absolutely spectacular in the garden this year with its abundant flowers and outstanding fragrance.

Lilac "Ludwig Spaeth"

Given full sun, lilacs bloom reliably every spring for about three weeks. The flowers usually appear in mid-May and fade by early June. These hardy shrubs symbolize many things. Their flowers are often interpreted as symbolic of new beginnings and of renewal thanks to their early bloom time. Lilacs also symbolize love and romance. They are the flower given to couples on eighth wedding anniversaries. 

Lilacs also have a connection to death. Purple is the colour of mourning in many countries. During the Victorian era, widows wore lilacs as a sign of remembrance. 

The lilac in my backyard is named for Franz Ludwig Späth (1793-1883), a German botanist. As I thought about this man and all things associated with lilacs during the fleeting moments when they are in bloom, a love story started to take shape. The resulting poem is written as a ballade.*

Ludwig: A Love Story

Ludwig sends me lilacs every month of May

remembering like the earth remembers the seasons

Lilacs that he planted to mark the vows of our wedding day

persuading me I would one day be grateful for his reasons

Spring’s sweet scent, he dreamed, to our windows would breeze in  

Fragrant remembrances of moments we had only begun to accrue 

Life together was fresh, new, and easy, and so I teased him

Thank you for the flowers Ludwig, but I would much rather have you

Ludwig loved the lilacs, stealing away for brief moments at a time

to bring a clustering branch close and breathe its essence with wonder 

Perfumes of magenta-violet were his muse sublime 

and beckoned to him each morning and before each night’s slumber 

With careful cuts he filled his arms, the bouquets too numerous to number

Panicles of purple, pink, white, and hints of blue

I quipped as I placed the stems in vases one after the other

Thank you for the flowers Ludwig, but I would much rather have you

The lilacs without Ludwig are lilacs incomplete 

He saw them one last time before the end that came to claim him 

Through the pane a symbol of love that made our hearts beat

I planted those for you, he said, as the light in his eyes dimmed

I whispered that I understood as the tears in my eyes brimmed

That night I filled the vases to overflowing, weeping for years too few

Crying out at memories sown and carried on lilac-scented winds

Thank you for the flowers Ludwig, but I would much rather have you

Ludwig sends me lilacs every month of May

A reminder of a love that blossomed long ago and grew

For scented sprigs of reminiscence, I am grateful every day

Thank you for the flowers Ludwig, but I would much rather have you

The deep, rich purple blooms of 
Lilac "Ludwig Spaeth" are in flower
for only a few short weeks

Happy Gardening!

*A ballade is a type of Old French verse.  The structure of the poem is usualy made up of three eight-line stanzas and a four-line envoy. An envoy is a short stanza that comes at the end of a poem. It serves as a summary of the poem or is used as a dedication to a person. A ballade follows and ababbcbc bcbc rhyme scheme. I'm not certain that I've achieved all the necessary elements of a ballade ; I have probably deviated from the proper form somewhat, but I'm pretty happy with this poem.

The Takeover (Dandelion and Wild Violet)

From day one as a gardener, my goal has always been to eliminate all but a small patch of my front and backyard lawns. As the garden grows, I plan to leave just enough green space for a small bistro-style patio set where I can enjoy a refreshing lemonade in summer's hottest days. Or maybe I'll get a chaise longue so I can put my feet up and read in the dappled shade of the beech tree and Japanese Maple. Whatever the final result of the ever-expanding garden, there won't be much use for a large lawn. It is destined to be replaced with a collection of shrubs, trees and perennials. I have made some good progress toward that goal, and the lawn that remains gets a minimal amount of care.

Dandelions run amok in my lawn

The dandelions have noticed my new laid-back approach, and it is quite obvious that they appreciate my lack of attention. 

Dandelions are edible

While I was once eager to wrench every dandelion taproot from the earth as soon as warmer spring weather allowed, now I simply let them be (at least for a while). I've adopted the "No Mow May" approach. By letting the lawn grow untouched through May, important food sources like dandelions can bloom. The bright yellow flowers help out hungry bees, butterflies and other pollinators. That's a good reason to park the mower.

Wild violets among the dandelions

The dandelions are not alone in their enjoyment of "No Mow May."  Wild violets are taking advantage of the circumstances, as well. Like dandelions, wild violets are an important food source for pollinators. Like dandelions, the petals and leaves of wild violets are edible. Like dandelions, wild violets have medicinal uses. Like dandelions, wild violets can't shake their reputation as an undesirable and aggressive weed. The similarities are striking. 

The complementary colours of dandelion
and wild violet

Also striking, is the colour combination of yellow and purple. Opposites on the colour wheel, these complementary colours work together to create a dramatic contrast. As a result, each dandelion flower appears brighter and more vivid when it is next to the blooms of wild violet, and vice versa. It is, in a way, an unspoken partnership. With so much in common, I began to wonder if these plants might recognize something in each other: their lowly standing in the garden, their unrecognized worth, their unparalleled capacity to reproduce, and their own beauty. The result was this poem.*

The Takeover (Dandelion and Wild Violet)

Dandelion met a wild violet

in a field of green uniformity

and sensed a kindred soul mate, riotous

uncontrolled against the conformity

Deeply aware of their common status

and problematic notoriety 

they conceived a partnership of balance

commencing the takeover quietly

Life unleashed under pappus parachutes,

through rhizomes and seed-scattering ruptures 

Futures borne on cool breezes and taproots

and radiant reciprocal colours

Grass subsumed, purple and yellow replete

The annex of the lawn at last complete

Pappus are the tufts of hair on dandelion seeds
that catch the wind, helping to disperse
the seeds on the breeze  

Happy Gardening!

*This poem is written as a sonnet. An English sonnet has fourteen lines made up of three quatrains and a couplet. It follows an abab cdcd efef gg rhyme pattern. There are ten syllables per line. When I revived my garden blog, I wondered if I would have anything left to say (my original garden blog was about five years worth of posts). In trying to express my garden observations in poems, I am looking at my garden in new ways and learning lots about poetry along the way.