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.

The Transformation and Trials of Magnolia "Susan"

The peak of magnolia season has come and gone. In my garden, Magnolia "Susan" spends the colder days of early spring wrapped tightly in fuzzy buds covered in fine silver-grey hairs.

A Magnolia "Susan" bud warm in 
her fur coat

Soon, she is teasing me with hints of what is to come, as her buds break open to reveal the beginnings of a dark purple bloom stubbornly clenched tight against cool spring days.

A hint of colours to come on Magnolia "Susan"

The true drama of her rich and vibrant colours is soon revealed as the sun grows stronger.

Magnolia "Susan" begins to unfurl

Magnolia "Susan" takes her time to fully open

Finally, Susan is ready for her grand finale, opening fully to reveal enormous flowers of twisted pink and purple tepals. She is spectacular—the centre of attention in the garden.   

Magnolia "Susan" in full bloom

The slow transformation—from fur-wrapped buds to gargantuan blooms—takes about a month. For a flowering tree that seems to take such care in slowly unveiling its fullest extravagance, the end comes rather quickly. Perhaps the effort of the build-up to this moment proves to be too much. Perhaps it is the shifting of attention to mass plantings of tulips, camassia, and bearded iris that are waiting to steal the spotlight. Whatever it is, "Susan" drops her showy flowers after just a few short weeks and leaves a mess of brown, decaying blossoms that need to be cleaned up.

Magnolia "Susan" drops her blooms
and leaves a mess

As I watched "Susan" through her various stages this spring, I wondered what she might be like if she were a person. The result was this poem.

Susan

I met Susan as she waited

to make her debut

A genteel lady

refined and unassuming

The definition of demure

Or, so I presumed

The fur wrapped around her shoulders

should have been a clue

It screamed

Look at me

She was captivating in purple silk

sharing stories of travels to Asia

Basking in the attention  

until the pressure of the performance 

exposed a small crack

Or, so I pretended

Her search for validation

disclosed a gaping chasm

the dormant hazard of self-doubt

I knew Susan until she fell apart

Magnolia "Susan" in snow during an
early spring storm

Happy Gardening!

The Wow Factor: Tulips at the Exhibition Grounds

Sometimes a flower display has so much wow factor you just have to stop and take a picture. 

Mass tulip planting on the CNE grounds

That was exactly the case when I came upon these tulips near the eastern entrance to Toronto's Exhibition Place grounds. This particular grouping caught my attention from across the very busy lanes of Lake Shore Boulevard West at Strachan (for non-Torontonians, we pronounce it "strawn" 😀.) It just goes to show the dramatic visual effect a mass planting can have. Plus, if one or two flowers fall victim to a ravenous squirrel, as they inevitably do, there are plenty of flowers still left to enjoy.

The colour of strawberries and 
strawberry ice cream

The shades of pink and light red mixed beautifully to remind me of strawberry ice cream, but there was one outlier.  Can you see it?

The Princes' Gates in Toronto

The tulips are located just outside the Princes' Gates, the gateway to the annual Canadian National Exhibition (CNE), a beloved end-of-summer fair dating back to 1879. This morning, Torontonians learned that there will be no CNE for the second year in a row due to the coronavirus pandemic. So, perhaps it was a bit of good luck that brought me down to these gates on my bike—who knows when I will be here again. I'll never get tired of this archway or of the CNE. For a little while longer, I will have to coast on memories of summers that wrapped up here with midway rides and Tiny Tom donuts. Until I can return, there are tulips to be enjoyed.

One of these things is not like the others

Happy Gardening!

Crabapple Blossoms

Every morning, I take a walk with my dog. This time of year, I change up our usual route. I head south on Gladstone Avenue to just north of Dundas Street. That's where I find the incredible blooms on the crabapple tree in front of St. Anne's Anglican Church in Toronto.

Crabapple tree in bloom

The flowers were not quite open when I walked past a few days ago, but today some are fully open and looking lovely. 

Crabapple blossoms on Gladstone Avenue
just north of Dundas Street in Toronto

Peak bloom is likely still a few days away. Like so much in the world of gardening, the blossoms will be fleeting. So, I'll be taking the time to enjoy these blooms for the next ten to fourteen days. It's a great way to start the morning on a positive note.

Happy Gardening!

Elegy for a Garden Snail

This week, I stepped on a snail—robbing it of its life. The tragedy prompted me to reflect on these often-maligned creatures and on my own effect on the garden.

A snail glides
across my porch handrail

Elegy for a Garden Snail

I stepped outside with the grandest of intentions

To pluck away weeds that through my neglect persisted

But in a careless moment of delusion and inattention

I claimed the life of a gastropod and altered an ecosystem

I had raised my hoe high; it was poised to strike 

Eager to deprive stubbornly rooted undesirables of life

I leaned in with a heavy tread and my footfall triggered a crunch

The sickening sound of slow death to which my invincible mood plunged 

It was a terrestrial mollusk crushed underfoot

Its calcium shell cracked into dozens of pieces

A lazy laggard that in life did no obvious good

A tentacled pest with the teeth of a demon

And yet I felt deep guilt and shame

For my capacity to cause such pain

A broken sphere leaves no place to hide or retract

Exposing the calamity of my catastrophic impact

Nocturnal sluggard loafing in the darkness of night

Sedate under damp pots, verandas, and stones

Night-loving lounger you welcomed the sight

Of rain clouds and puddles and gnomes

Hungry herbivore banded by brown whirling swirls 

Peaceful grazer painted yellow by coiling whorls 

Unhurried in your moonlight travels on silver slime trails

Bathed by the moisture of dawn’s foggy veil

Foraging friend I so do regret

The grievous mistakes I have made

A negligent step impossible to forget

And the arrogance I have displayed

Who am I to attempt to tame the wild?

To bring order to earth’s chaos beguiled

Who am I to declare what is unwanted?

To reap destruction; to be forever haunted

I walk in the garden now to seek solace

In nature’s untamed mastery on a magnificent scale

I try to step lightly among the weeds and land mollusks

A lesson I learned from an unfortunate snail

Happy Gardening!  Remember to step lightly.