potpourri again

Since we were in the area last week, after we left Catherine’s place, we dropped into Rob Baldwin’s because my Long Suffering Spouse hadn’t been there before. He was of course enchanted by all the blue spruces and other trees, and also Rob’s tractor collection. I was more interested in the coneflowers, and it seems that they are now arbitrarily mutating themselves. How do you like this one?


Rob drew our attention to a collection of beetles that were hanging out in the wild vetch and daisies, seemingly having a beetle-orgy. None of us have ever seen these before, but we also are not entomologists. Any one know what this beetle is? The females are about an inch long, bigger than the males, and metallic green with red and black legs.


Simon Q and Mungus always like to help unpack the groceries. Yes, the bags are en francais—we belong to Co-op Atlantic’s local store and all the bags are bilingual—but the cats are only interested in finding the kitty treats, in any language.

Saturday I headed off to Truro, River John, and Wallace Ridge. In Truro I stopped at the farmer’s market just at the same time as a substantial thunderstorm rolled in. Had a great visit with Lloyd Mapplebeck of Hillendale Perennials, and picked up a couple terrific plants: a double-blossomed tradescantia, a pink flowered catmint, ‘Candy Cat’ and a species goatsbeard with very fine cutleaf foliage. Then it was off to River John and a visit to Beach Lane Lavender’s second annual lavender festival.
Naturally, lavender farmers also have wonderful gardens--everything in full bloom too, from the flowering shrubs to the perennials.
Although the cool weather has meant bloomtime is about a week late, plenty of people turned out to enjoy music, walk the lavender field and pick bunches of lavender, enjoy a nice range of foods, and oh yes, buy some of the fabulous lavender products that Dave and Anita manufacture. My personal favourites are the hand cream, exfoliant scrub, milk bath, floral spray, and well, okay, just about everything else they make.


I’ve wanted to visit Thyme and Place Nursery in Wallace Ridge since I found out about the new business a few months ago. Saturday was the day to visit, and I’m glad I did. I got to meet the owners, Sonia and Allan, who moved to Canada from Britain last year and opened their business about a month later. They’re on the lovely Sunrise Trail, and not far from Jost Vineyards, as well as the communities of Pugwash and Tatamagouche, and their home is actually on a hill with the best view around. Their nursery includes a good range of perennials, annuals, shrubs and trees, (look at these gorgeous heathers!) as well as a unique and varied gift shop.


What really tickled me was the way Sonia was growing vegetables right in bags of potting medium. She told me this is a typical British way of doing veg gardening…in the greenhouse. She uses Jolly Farmer potting soil, from an organic company in New Brunswick, and the quality of the soil is obvious from the very happy tomatoes and salad greens she’s growing. Now that’s a way to avoid weeds, a lot of pests…I can see myself trying this too—in fact if the weather stays cool, I just might seed some mesclun mix in the greenhouse for myself!
I wish Sonia and Allan all the best—they’re being well supported by local customers, and they’re wonderfully helpful—as usual, I wish this nursery was a little closer to my home, but hey…visiting them again is a perfect excuse to go back to this lovely part of the province.

I mentioned that the weather here continues cool—and although I ended up in two thunderstorms on Saturday, we haven’t had any rain to speak of here. Not even the fog is coming with as much regularity as it usually does. I can tell because one of my explorer roses, Martin Frobisher, generally turns to balls of soggy Kleenex-like petals when it’s wet, and so far, he’s looking great. The garden is thriving, all in all, including the weeds…


But happily when I am out weeding or doing other garden activities—sometimes just walking around smelling the awesome fragrances—I always have my friend Tigger to supervise my efforts.

A rose is a rose is a ROSE

Take a walk with me at my friend Catherine's garden. Catherine loves roses, especially old-fashioned and hardy roses, and when we were there last week, most of them were in the peak of their bloom. I don't know how many shrubs she has, but it's at least several hundred, spread out across the rolling slope of her yard--and even up against the sawmill.


We had a hard winter in Nova Scotia, and it seemed to hit many usually-tough roses quite hard. Alexander MacKenzie, however, was not intimidated, being a hardy Canadian Explorer rose.


John Cabot, another Explorer, is listed as a climber because it easily reaches 8 feet when it's happy, and covers itself in blooms, as you can see. Catherine has bought many of her plants from CornHill Nursery in New Brunswick, and many others from Old Heirloom Roses in Hammonds Plains.


Cardinal Richelieu is a gallica hybrid, and while He only blooms once, his gorgeous roses and fine fragrance make this a must-have rose for collectors.


This is Jacqueline du Pre, named after the famous cellist who died too young from Multiple Sclerosis. Not only is this rose fragrant, but check out those burgundy stamens! I don't have this rose--yet.


Catherine calls Leda a 'painted damask' and that's a fine description for this gorgeous, fragrant, and flamboyant rose. Don't you just love how the flowers are tinted with other colours?


Voici Louis Jolliet, another Canadian Explorer rose from Agriculture Canada. This rose breeding program has introduced a number of very fine, hardy and disease-resistant roses for cold climate gardeners. They aren't all fragrant, which can be a drawback for some gardeners, but my philosophy is that I have plenty of fragrant roses so a few that aren't isn't an issue.


Moss roses are SO cool! This is probably William Lobb, the most commonly available moss rose, also known as old Velvet Moss rose. I have a reblooming moss rose from Cornhill Nursery, J H Kern, but it's a small plant and often gets overwhelmed by larger plants in our jungle-garden.


This charmer is called Golden Border--not a huge plant (I think it's new to Catherine's garden this year) but a lovely rose for those of us who are besotted by yellow roses. (My hand is up, here!)


Quadra is one of the more recent Canadian roses, and Bob at Cornhill calls it a jewel of a rose. I also love it, and Catherine has quite a few of them. Rob at Baldwin Nurseries is getting in a bunch of them shortly, so many more people can get to love Quadra too.


I love this! This is Seven Sisters, and you can see some of the various colours in the blossoms as they age. I would dearly love to try Seven Sisters in my garden; maybe next year (after I clear some more room!


Ah. This is probably my second favourite of the Morden, Manitoba line of roses: Morden Snowbeauty. She's a lovely rose, pristine white and graceful.


Last year, I threatened my Veilchanblau rose and it covered itself in blossoms. This year, I think I'll be living vicariously off Catherine's plant, because mine killed back quite hard and doesn't look like it's going to flower. Oh well.


I stopped dead when I saw this and said something to the effect of "what is it I have to have it!" This is Wasagaming, an under-utilized rose, but oh MY! Fragrant, lavender blossoms, a tough rugosa...it blooms for a long time and profusely, as you can see: this is a BIG plant well over six feet tall and ten feet wide, probably. Happily, there's a sucker coming to live at my house...it's almost as wonderful as Snow Pavement. I don't seem to have a closeup shot of the blossoms, but the massive shrub makes a statement, all right--"Take me home!"

These are only a few of the fantastic varieties at Catherine's garden; she also does it all organically, and she's pretty well decided to only grow plants that are on their own roots, because of our erratic winters. It may take a few more years for plants to get to a big size, but they don't suddenly turn into wild multifloras or common wild roses when they die back like bud-and-grafted plants do. Even planting the graft 6 inches deep or more is no guarantee around here--I've seen roses planted that deep heaved up in our freeze-and-thaw cycles. No slight to grafted roses for those who can grow them--but they're not worth the effort to some of us, when there are such great hardy roses available.

Too bad I can't upload the fragrance of the yard...but it's awesome! Mmmmm. Must go put my face in Hansa or Snow Pavement or Polareis here.

A grief observed--and a life celebrated

Today’s blog entry was supposed to be awash in colour, as I visited a friend’s rose garden on Wednesday and took enough photos of her yard that you should be able to smell the fragrance from them just as I could while I was there.

However…

…I was working my way through the second section of the Halifax Herald at noontime, ably assisted by Simon Q, who lays on the paper and rolls around purring and looking adoreable. As is my habit, I was casually flicking down through the obituaries when a familiar face caught my eye. Ladny Richmond has died, all too young at age 63, claimed by cancer.

Instant tears. Even now, hours later, my eyes well up at the thought of her being gone. The emotions flashed through me in a flood: incredulity, rage at the unfairness of it all, grievous heartwrenching sorrow for her husband JP, her daughter Jenny, her mother—yes, her mother, well into her eighties and still very vital—her cats, her friends, everyone actually who ever came in contact with this vital, caring woman. And guilt.

Guilt?

Yes. I saw Ladny a couple of months ago, in Wolfville, where she has lived for 25 years. She was with her mother, actually, at a coffee shop we all frequent. She seemed well, upbeat as ever—but even when she was dealing with surgery and chemotherapy a few years ago, she was upbeat. I didn’t know that things had turned for the worse with her disease. More on guilt in a bit, though.

In my life I have met some extraordinary people. Some of them are extraordinary in a quietly effective way. This is Ladny. We met in the early nineties when Wolfville was having its annual festival of cultures celebration. We quickly learned that we shared a love for cats—Ladny was instrumental in founding the Wolfville Area Animal Group, now called We’re All Animal Guardians, a society that helps with health care, adoption and other issues around stray, feral or otherwise abandoned kitties. As a student, I several times got kittens through WAAG—also fostered several, including one feral cat we could not tame (though we did manage to spay and vaccinate her) but who lived outside my flat for years, coming to be fed, but never allowing anyone to touch her. Ladny and JP always had a multitude of cats at their home, and she worked very hard to see that people who needed financial help with spaying, neutering or needling their pets received that help.

We were neighbours on Hillside Avenue for a time, but when I really grew to love and respect this woman was when I found out that she was a palliative care volunteer, something I did for a time before I moved over to the Canning area. Ladny had this quiet strength about her and this generousity of spirit that was genuine right to the last cell in her body; everything she did was about someone else, be it animal person or human person. She actually was the volunteer who visited with my aunt Joyce during her last months as she was dying with cancer, and every year on the date Joyce died, Ladny would call me and ask how my mother (Joyce’s twin) was doing. We would often talk on the phone, usually about cats but also about other things, as she was fascinated with the world around her.

Ladny has lived life always in according with her beliefs and principles. Even when she disagreed with someone, she did it with immense respect, and she held fast to the things she believed in regardless of what others said. I believe (because I know very little about such things) that a lot of that came from her adherence to the teachings and beliefs of both the Quakers and the Buddhists. She was a peaceful person in every sense of the world, a member of the Raging Grannies of Wolfville, and from the time Canada entered the conflict in Afghanistan, she was one of a handful who stood in a silent peace vigil every Saturday morning—not an anti-military vigil but a vigil for peace—that continues to this day.

When I was cleaning my office earlier this week, I found a card that she sent to me for my birthday last December. She knew I’d been having battles with depression, and she had put together a care package—articles about cats and gardening, several packages of seeds, a most wonderful card with cats on it—and one of her gently caring notes, “love from Ladny, JP and Paula”. She drew a little picture of a smiling cat’s face beside those words. I have the card in a frame now, on my wall, as a memory of her always.

I don’t know who wrote her obituary—probably JP and her mother—but they captured her well in a few words:

Ladny will be missed by hundreds of people, dogs, cats, crows, squirrels and others whom she had cared for during her 63 years in this life. She had devoted her last 25 years to the town of Wolfville, the Annapolis Valley, and the Buddhist and Quaker communities, keeping us conscious of the most important aspects of living, and giving selflessly of her large spirit of compassion.

Sunday the memorial service is at Acadia University’s Denton Hall, a place where concerts are usually held. I will be going, of course, and among the many people who will attend, there will be many tears but also laughter and happy memories. While we are all poorer for her passing, we are all richer for having shared even a snippet of this remarkable woman’s life and caring.

This makes three people in the past several months who I have cared about and have lost—and three people who I was always going to get together with for more than a quick conversation. Those nebulous promises don’t materialize, and then they are gone, and we are left behind, berating ourselves that we didn’t make time. There’s the guilt I mentioned earlier. Ladny wouldn’t want me to be guilty, but to learn from this. So I’m learning.

I’m making time now, remembering to take time to spend with those people who matter to me, to do the little things that may not shake the world but that are important nonetheless. And those of you who read this, you too take time—make time—for those in your lives who matter, and don’t put it off til next week or next month or next year. Please.

I have already planted a tree for Ladny—her given name is Lynda, (which I only ever heard her mother call her) so I planted a Linden tree; a tree that isn’t fancy or flamboyant, but is strong and durable and practical. That is—was—Ladny. I don’t have a photo of the tree, so instead, I’ve borrowed a rose from my friend Catherine’s garden that signifies Ladny’s outlook on life.

The rose’s name? “Hope for Humanity.”

The roses of Scotts Bay

The other day when I was at Baldwin’s Nursery in Falmouth, Rob asked me what ten roses I would recommend to others and couldn’t possibly do without. I told him a few right away, but had to go home and look around the garden and make some arbitrary decisions about the others. Here they are, in alphabetical order:

Alchemist.
Charles du Milles
Father Hugo
Hansa
Henry Hudson
Polareis
Robusta
Snow Pavement (and Pristine Pavement)
Souvenir du Philemon Cochet/ Sir Thomas Lipton
Topaz Jewel


Alchemist. My rose took a beating this winter and then I cut off the tallest cane, so I’m not expecting a whole lot of a show from Alchemist this season. However, even a few of its roses are enough to delight the eye and nose. I love how they change colours, incorporating apricot, yellow, pink and salmon into their full and fragrant blooms.


Charles deMills. This gallica only flowers once yearly, but it flowers so profusely, and with such decadently glorious rich fragrant quartered blooms…it’s allowed to do it all at once. It suckers exhuberantly but some winters has a lot of dieback too, at least here in our garden—maybe I should protect it a little bit.


I’ve mentioned Father Hugo’s rose as being a favourite because it flowers early and in great abundance: and when out of bloom, that pimpernellifolia foliage still looks great.


Hansa may be an old staple, and may sucker a little too much for some people, but there is something so decadent about standing on the back deck breathing in the fragrance of this rose. And I have lots of room for its suckers, which I simply plant here and there throughout the garden.


Henry Hudson is a modest Explorer rose from Agriculture Canada’s rose breeding line, white and reasonably fragrant—I grow it mostly in tribute to my favourite Canadian Coast Guard Ship, Hudson, ocean explorer that she is.

Polareis: Bob Osborne put me on to this robust rugosa a few years ago, and it’s never disappointed. It flowers its little head off, is nicely fragrant and the most interesting thing is that the flowers are white tinged with pink, like frosting.


Robusta: I love the clean look of single roses, whether they’re the tiny and to some, invasive, blossoms of Rosa multiflora, or large deep red beauties like Robusta. This rose has always been reliable although it probably would make a good climber if I had it in a different location than right in the middle of a border!


Snow Pavement (Schneekopf): If I could only have one rose, this would be it. Perfection is this rose; hardy as all get out, gorgeous flowers the colour of whipped cream with a little blackberry juice beaten in, (thank you Barbara Wilde, author of Growing Roses Organically, for that perfect description—and that perfect book!) Oh, and it’s fragrant as all get out too, and reblooms, and grows in shaded conditions, or in full sun….

I seem to have a thing for white roses—even though many of them are inclined to ball here, when the weather is foggy and wet for days on end—because they are always so fragrant. At least the ones I like are. Souvenir du Philomen Cochet, as I wrote recently, is a sport of Blanc Double du Coubert, but I like it even more especially when its blossoms are so packed with petals that it looks quartered. Sir Thomas Lipton is a robust grower, supposedly reaching four feet but easily hitting seven without pruning in one part of our yard—and I have a friend whose rose is even taller. Thorny, very thorny, but beautiful.


Topaz Jewel is a yellow rugosa hybrid. It’s just about the thorniest rose I’ve ever encountered—worse than Sir Thomas Lipton—but it’s this lovely soft yellow and softly fragrant, though the flowers shatter easily and aren’t much good for cutting. That’s okay, though. Ours is planted in Marilyn’s Memory Garden, along with a lovely Golden Wings single rose.

The thing about roses in our gardens: they have to be tough (preferably on their own roots rather than grafted) and they have to be prepared to be gardened organically. I prune the deadwood out, feed them some seameal, bone meal and the occasional banana peel and coffee grounds, along with mushroom compost, and that's IT. No sprays other than water if the aphids get overzealous. There's no black spot in these roses, and they are all at least five years old, which can be a challenge in this garden. We've lost a number of roses, most interestingly the Morden roses from Morden, Manitoba. My thought on this is that in Manitoba, winter gets cold, stays cold and provdes a lot of snow cover, whereas here, we all know about what the winter does. A fellow rose lover who has far, far more roses than I ever will had a number of losses or plants being killed right to the ground, this past winter; those 15 degree F days in January followed by a cold snap probably had a lot to do with that. So roses need to be able to cope with tough love up here, or else they get replaced with something that does.

A LONNNNGGGG weekend to catch up on many things

Those who work regular weekday jobs have been reveling in a long weekend, which either began when they had Friday off, or will take place officially when they have Monday off. Technically, tomorrow is the holiday, July 1st, Canada Day—or as many of us still refer to it, Dominion Day—whatever you cal it, happy birthday to our country, 140 years young. I won’t go on a political rant about Harpenistas and other icky things; let’s just pause to admire our neighbour and his mare, Lizzy, all decked out to go to the Bay Day Parade here in Scotts Bay. Normally Bay Day is Canada Day but since Canada Day is on Sunday and all the churchy types couldn’t possibly miss out on church and run Bay Day too…they held Bay Day on Saturday. Clear as mud?
Anyway…those of us who work for ourselves can take days off whenever we want—providing the work is done that needs doing. That’s why I was able to skive off on Tuesday and go visit Bayport and Captain Dick. But I made it to two other nurseries that day before making my merry way homewards. The first is called Oceanview Garden Centre and Landscaping (www.plantcrazy.ca) in the beautiful south shore community of Chester. Formerly known as Natural Expressions, it’s a marvelous place, with a really fine selection of perennials, shrubs and of course lots of flamboyant annuals. I thought the prices were extremely reasonable for the things that climbed into the trunk of my car; including Heuchera ‘Crimson Curls’, Euphorbia ‘Blue Haze’ and ‘Rudolph’; Astilbe
Bumalda’ and Nepeta subsessilis. Oh, and joy of joys, they had lots of my favourite Acupulco orange hummingbird mint (Agastache), so I had to get several of those for our hummers and butterflies.



The nursery had a really EXCELLENT collection of Heucheras, which reminds me…I must go write down the names of those I have now. Some of them are so close to being the same (Keylime Pie and Lime Rickey, for example, or Peach Melba and Peach Flambe…) I’ve noticed other garden writers have had troubles with some of the heucheras, but mine have been very well behaved—the secret is to give them good winter drainage, and to replant them if they start getting too long-crownded and spindley. I know that’s not good scientific description for how they sometimes behave, but so it goes. It’s a long weekend, after all!



I decided to carry on down the #3 back to the #12 rather than go up the road to Windsor, and suddenly I spied this remarkable place with all kinds of wrought iron art around it. Stop right there! This is Walter Downey’s nursery, Pitcher Plant Nursery, also in the Chester area. Walter hails from the Rock of My Heart, (also known as Newfoundland), hence the Pitcher Plant nursery name. He’s a busy, going concern, one of those really positive people, says he’s having a great season and lovely customers. He grows everything without chemicals; and his annuals and other plants look great. But what REALLY got me excited were the wrought iron things he makes; hangers and peony supports and signs for holding those blue civic number plates, dozens of unique and wonderful items. Good thing I had only a little money with me, and the car instead of the truck…or else I’d have come home with a LOT of interesting items. As it was, I contented myself with a nice little iron holder for a half-circular planter or a six-inch pot. I’ll show it off when I get it up—after the house is painted (and yes, it’s going to be yellow—now we’re deciding on what shade of yellow…)


Speaking of yellow…time for a few bloomin’ photos from our garden, where I’m slowly getting things weeded and planted. This dandy little darling is Yellow Jacob’s ladder, Polemonium pauciflorum. I really like this because it’s so different from the other Polemoniums we have in the garden—although my favourite remains ‘Stairway to Heaven’. But I love the delicate red tint on the outside of the flowers and the soft yellow of the trumpets.


So far, the roses are looking quite good (those that survived—we only lost a few that were bud-and-grafted, and like a friend of mine, I’m not buying any more of THOSE!) and having profound blooms. This beautiful creature is Souvenir du Philemon Cochet, which I bought from Bob Osborne at Corn Hill nursery several years ago. It’s a sport of Blanc du Coubert, but I love it even more than that tough little rose; look how it’s so packed with petals that it’s got that quartered look, and there’s a pink tinge and a green ‘eye’…how wonderful is THAT?


Last year, the white tussock moth caterpillars raged through the North Mountain and ate a heck of a lot of plants, including all the leaves off my young Paul’s Scarlet Hawthorn. My longsuffering spouse was sure the tree would die—and I just kept saying, ‘nope, it’ll be fine…trust the tree.” Sure enough, this year tis gorgeous—and even has two little clusters of flowers. They’re more pink than scarlet, but hey, who’s arguing?


I’ve written before about how much I love bellflowers—except for the really rampant ones. This is Sarastro, which is like Kent Belle on steroids—bigger plant, bigger bells, and LSS just loves it. He loves bellflowers in general, but he was really pleased to see this one take off. Terra Nova Nurseries reports this is not a runner, but a modest spreader, and that it reblooms. I can see it will become a favourite (tis new, from my recent trip to Lowland Gardens)


And THIS is one of my favourite plants of all time. It’s Lindelofia, and the best way I can describe it is to call it a giant blue forget-me not. It grows about 3 feet tall, and has these lovely clusters of really blue flowers that last a good long time. It doesn’t spread or selfseed like Myosotis, but makes a nice clump and has been a consistant performer since I bought it probably five years ago or longer at Maple Hill. I plan to divide it after it finishes flowering, and put a couple smaller clumps elsewhere, because it IS so lovely and well behaved. It doesn’t reflower, but with our garden that’s never a problem—there’s always something in bloom.
Well, the sun is sinking in the west, and I am also fading…time to retire to read my latest fluffy mystery novel, and rest up for another day’s gardening. Happy Canada Day, everyone—eat a maple sugar candy for our country!

meme-tag: Seven Random things

Last night we had a completely spectacular lightning storm for hours on end--from the Environment Canada satellite and radar views, there were a lot of cells around, and while we don't get the sorts of storms that cities like Orlando Florida get, this was pretty impressive. It went on til after midnight, when I went to bed, but then woke me up again about 0430 going like there were giant strobe-lights happening outdoors. Went back to sleep after daylight, so thins morning I'm a bit slow to get into my routine.

As a result of that sluggishness, I thought I'd carry on with the meme-tag started somewhere and picked up at May Dreams Garden , with seven random things.

1. My former husband, our son, and I are all blue eyed and left-handed--and my son and I are both ambidextrous but mostly left-handed.This trait used to come in quite handy when I played badminton or table tennis (or even, occasionally, tennis) and could switch hands to make a blistering return on my opponents. It's also handy in the garden where I can switch hands for doing tasks if I want.

2. We have the stupidest donkey on the planet. Her name is Jenny many-lumps, so named because she's old and portly. When donkeys get overweight, they do so in pads, including along their neck topline; which when it gets too heavy, falls over on one side and stays that way--solid, perfectly fine and healthy, but looking like a cross between a melting innertube and a camel. Jenny gets lost between the barn and the pasture, a distance of maybe 35 feet. However, she keeps the horse in the pasture and the coyotes and deer out, so we excuse her her sessions of donkey senility.

3. I have only ever been seasick on one vessel in all the times I've been out on boats or ships. The Canadian Coast Guard ship Cygnus, a fisheries patrol and search and rescue cutter, is nicknamed The Sickness, and it's pretty well a badge of honour to have hurled on her during a gale of wind. Fortunately, I'm the sort who heaves away and then it's over and done with. Yo ho ho!

4. The only plant I absolutely truly cannot stand is goutweed, Aegopodium podegraria. It ought not be allowed to be sold at garden centres. Of all the questions I get asked by email or at gardening talks, the most common is "How do I get rid of the goutweed in my garden/ditch/lawn/pasture/bathroom?" (okay, maybe not bathroom--no one has reported it arriving in their house--SO FAR. Yesterday we did goutweed abuse. My longsuffering spouse bushhogged the area where it's heading for the pasture, after I hit it with extra strength glyphosate about ten days ago. Today, after the ground dries, I'm spraying it again. I make no apologies for this, because I don't want it in the pasture and I've tried digging it up, covering it, spraying it with salt and vinegar, which only made it into a salad green. If this doesn't work, I may have to resort to an excavator. Did I mention I don't like goutweed?

5. My longsuffering spouse and I are currently in discussions about what colour to paint the house, which definitely needs doing. It's currently 'Nordic Sea', which is exactly the colour of the ocean when it curves away from the bow of a fishing boat, but it's been that colour for nearly eight years and it's time for a change. He's leaning towards barn red, while I'm thinking a lighter colour, like a nice sunflower yellow, would be a great choice. Who do you suppose will win this discussion?

6. I thought the ending of the Sopranos was brilliant--once I figured out that it wasn't a case of my satellite going out, that is. If you're not a Sopranos fan, this random point won't make any sense, so don't worry...just fuggedaboudit! i do wonder what all the Soprano lists and webboards etc will do not that This Thing of Ours is finished. Or is it?

7. My favourite writer of all time is/was the late Canadian author Timothy Findley, who died in 2002. I wrote my master's thesis on him, and met him several times back in the 1990s. He wrote to me several times as well, and he even sent me a galley-copy of The Piano Man's Daughter, some months before it was published in hardcover, so that I could include it in my thesis. When he died I started the Memory Garden in his honour, planting a hardy Explorer rose for him--then one for his partner, Bill Whitehead, who is still alive but I didn't want Tiff's rose to be lonely in the garden. I mention this because I read in the paper this morning of the passing of William Hutt, a Canadian stage and film actor said to be among the finest Shakespearean actors ever. Hutt was a friend of Tiff and Bill's, acted in stage products opposite Findley and starred in Findley's play The Stillborn Lover. We shall not soon see the likes of either of these artists again.

There, that wasn't so difficult. I think I'll do the same sort of thing that Carol did: the first seven bloggers to read this posting, leave a note sending us to your blog and do a seven random things too.

Heading south--to the South Shore

Woke up this morning, looked at my computer, looked out the window, and declared to my long-suffering spouse, “I’m taking the day off to go see Dick. I’ll be back tonight sometime.”

LSS nodded. He had plenty to do, lots of local strawberries and cream in the fridge to sustain him when he got hungry, and so he waved me off a little after 930.

It’s only about 130 km from my place to Dick’s, and you’d think I’d get there more often than I do. I wasn’t sure what sort of reception I’d get on arrival, or even if he’d be there. But when I went to the header house door and asked the two young fellows, “where is HIMself?” , they nodded to the potting room behind them. I tiptoed through the greenhouse, stuck my head in, and said, “Is it safe to come in?”

“Get in here, girl! Good to see you!” Big hugs all around.


Those of you who don’t live in or near Nova Scotia probably haven’t had the pleasure of meeting Captain Richard (Dick) Steele, C.M., D.S.C. If you haven’t, perhaps you have gotten a glimpse of this living legend if you’ve seen the episode of Recreating Eden that was done several years ago. (I still haven’t seen it, and must track it down.) Dick is a retired naval officer who served in both World War II and the Korean War, and has seen much more than most of us can even imagine. He’s now in his early 90s but looks and acts 30 years younger, and he is the best plantsman I’ve ever met, as well as a gentleman and a fun, wise, and generous soul.

Here’s an excerpt from the episode of Recreating Eden explaining Dick’s reasoning for gardening:

In the Korean War, Captain Steele was Commanding Officer of HMCS Nootka, when that Destroyer served on both the East and West coasts of North Korea. In these northern enemy waters they held and protected all of the Islands and spent many long, cold, grey, dark winter months facing dangerous and at times quite furious weather.

However, upon returning to Sasebo harbour in Japan, just as the sun was rising on an early May morning, all the rice paddies up the hillsides were light, bright, and shining green. Clean and vibrant new color was creeping out everywhere. Upon seeing this wonderful sight, Steele said to his key helper, "Off-You-Go ashore and round up lots of good bright color for my cabin". A delightful and competent Flower-Lady was found who quickly and thereafter, whenever the Nootka returned to the Base, kept the Captain’s Cabin awash in many hued flowers.

It was from these episodes that Steele fully realized how much Nature’s colours can soften the harsh and gruel stress of difficult times. But this was still not enough. Surrounded by the brutality of war, Steele soon needed to find regular escape from the aggressive, combative military atmosphere, so would work from 6am-4:30pm and then change out of uniform and seek a garden to go to relax, unwind and replace the horrendous visions of war with a kind of serenity only a garden can provide.

A founding member of the Atlantic Rhododendron Society and recipient of the Gold Medal of the American Rhododendron Society, Dick has been all about plants for over fifty years. In 2004 hewas named a member of the Order of Canada for his outstanding contributions to horticulture in North America, particularly in his work pertaining to hardy rhododendrons, azaleas, and other ericaceous plants. Bayport Plant Farm, down behind Lunenburg, is home to some 30,000 (or so) plants, including many rhodos, choice conifers, magnolias, unusual perennials, rock garden plants…


There are only two plants I know of that Dick doesn’t like: goutweed, and Japanese knotweed. Good choices, both of them. And he can propagate, grow, plant and move any plant, I'm sure of it. The lovely lady at the top of this entry is Cypripedium calceolus, better known as the Yellow Lady's slipper--known only to grow natively in a couple of parts of Nova Scotia, including the threatened Avon Peninsula Watershed, but grown masterfully and happily under some conifers at Bayport, too!

And it’s in no small part because of his enthusiasm and encouragement that I’ve gotten into heaths and heathers as well as rhododendrons and azaleas—in a very small way, compared to many in this province who are ardent collectors and growers—but I’m a bit plant-fickle…I love just about any plant too, other than the dreaded evil bad goutweed.

We spent several very pleasant hours drinking tea and catching up, and I committed to going on his annual plant-hunting expedition to Labrador in September. We didn’t go up through the hills of the farm today; instead, I contented myself with strolling around the nursery part of the farm and talking with Diana, Dick’s daughter who manages the garden centre part of the farm. They have some amazing plants here, many of which you’re unlikely to find anywhere else—some, of course, they’ve bred themselves, like this lovely azalea (currently named RSF 81-011).

The plant material they collect in the Labrador (usually seeds) is propagated to develop new, hardy and interesting plants for gardeners, especially those who like ericaceous plants and alpine/rock garden specimens, and is added to the ever-growing collection of specimens from all over the world. Of course I spied the heaths and heathers, though I restrained myself and only bought three; but then a gentian-like campanula, several sedum and hosta caught my eye, and this amazing, delicate yet robust Bolax glebaria (originally from the Falkland Islands, apparently). It reminded me of an alpine dianthus, although these little yellow knobs are its flowers—insignificant, but the plant is very cool and is going in my concrete planter!

After I left Dick’s farm, I headed for Chester, and two interesting nurseries there—but they’ll have to wait til next time, because now of course the deadlines are calling me again…

a half day off....

What does a hardworking freelance writer do when she’s written seven articles for various publications (the equivalent of a month’s worth of work) in four and a half days?
She takes Friday afternoon off and heads to a friend’s nursery, of course.
This time, I was smart and took our Tacoma. And an umbrella, given that the sky turned amazing colours just before I was ready to head to Windsor…


Drove through the thunder and lightning and major rainfalls, and when I reached Windsor, things had settled down there. Rob Baldwin, owner of Baldwin’s nurseries, had called me earlier in the week to say that the milkweed seeds I’d given him had germinated and grown on into nice sized plants and did I want a flat? Since I had it in my head that it was time to get a few trees…and as I said I’d worked very hard all week…


Rob is one of those plant people who can propagate anything; this spring he seeded a whole pile of Japanese maples from seed he’d collected…and I think every one of them germinated. He has baby trees everywhere…gave me a flat of seedlings to take home, divide into half, and plant out to test for their hardiness in my windy cold locale.


We went over the entire nursery, starting in the prop house and working our way up through the various areas where his shrubs and trees are. Like me, he’s very partial to Nishiki willows…but he has dozens, where I have one…


The Preston and Miss Kim lilacs were blasting fragrance all around the nursery yard, and we sneaked up to see how many tiger swallowtails were hanging around one stand of lilacs. The answer was—only three or four at that moment; but they were very happy with themselves.

About the time we finished poring over the plants and deciding what I needed to bring home, the sky turned those amazing bruise colours again. Lightning split the sky and it began to absolutely thunder down torrential amounts of rain. (yes, my Ohio friends, I thought of you and hoped you were having some too) We were a little less pleased when the wind swirled up like a banchee all of the sudden, and when hail entered the mix, but it gentled out again after a few minutes into merely rain. We’d already gotten my truck loaded, though, and what’s a little wet among friends?

So what did I bring home today?
A flat of milkweed seedlings
A flat of Japanese maple babies
3 Japanese Larch
1 Black Lace Sambucus
1 Nugget Ninebark
1 Bigleaf Linden
1 cutleaf sumac
1 red oak
1 Ohio buckeye (a nod to my Ohio gardening/blogging friends, of course!)
Tomorrow, it’s treeplanting day. These aren’t large trees, but that’s the way I prefer them; I bring home 2-3 gallon pots with plants that are three or four feet tall, and they establish themselves very nicely. Mind you, I was deeply, deeply awestruck by this one weeping, tricolour beech…stunning colours, but also a bit higher priced than I can afford. I’ll wait til Rob propagates them and buy a young one in a few years time.


Back home, the rain had only lasted a brief time, while there’d been major flooding in other parts of Kings and Hants counties. The sun was out and I wandered around looking at the freshness of everything.

I know I’ve mentioned being besotted by foliage shapes, colour and textures before; here are some of my favourites. After several years of thinking about it, I brought home a male hardy kiwi vine a week or two back; it’s just starting to get its really awesome colour now, though I haven’t planted it yet.


During the Yarmouth trip, you’ll remember I mentioned collecting a few new plants (okay, maybe more than a few…) Here are some of them: ‘Gold Nugget’ Lamium; ‘Harvest Burgundy’ heuchera; Hosta ‘Reverse Patriot’; a gold aruncus, I think it is (the Junebugs are out and I don’t wanna go outdoors with the flashlight to look at the tag); Heuchera ‘Peach Melba’; and there’s a fuchsia of some sort leaning over too. In the background (I know it’s there) is the variegated porcelain vine I got last year. It’s much more demure than its all-green cousin, but I hope we’ll have berries this year, because they are SO amazing.


Up in the back we have a small but growing bed of conifers, heaths and heathers; including ‘Rhinegold’ thuja, ‘Heatherbun’ chamaecyparis, ‘Blue Star’ juniper, ‘Jeddeloh’ eastern Hemlock, ‘Sunkist’ thuja and ‘Sherwood Frost’ thuja. Regular emerald green cedars bore me to small bits, but I love my funky coloured ones! The heaths and heathers have settled in admirably, and have changed from their striking winter colours to their summer glory. I love the flowers too, but just the foliage makes me gleeful. You can’t see the dawn redwood, Metasequoia glyptostroboides, but it’s there, and doing nicely.


Out front there’s an exuberant mixture of flowers and foliage both, including my black and gold mixture of plants; and a whole lotta flowers in containers. In the past week everything that’s been in the ground for a while has gone slightly nuts. Probably in part it’s due to the mushroom compost I feed the beds, along with seaweed meal. It would give many gardeners a trauma, all that colour and textures and floral mayhem, but it makes me happy right down to my tired and dirty toes.


There’s one mystery plant in the front bed, and I do NOT know what it is. I can’t remember where I got it, if it was a gift or a purchase. It’s woody, it hasn’t flowered yet, it isn’t all that big, and it’s very, very gold. The leaves are bigger than the various blazing neon spireas (I have a few of those, too!) and I’m stumped. Do you know what it might be?

I spent a good part of the evening cleaning out more of the big mixed bed out back; tomorrow it gets straw, manure and soil to raise it a good six eight inches in places, then the planting will begin again.

More nurseries I can't do without

Just back from a restful weekend away with my longsuffering spouse as we visited friends near Yarmouth. Naturally, Flora and I spent a good deal of time visiting garden centres as well as other people’s gardens in and around the area. I’ll have more to say about that all in future posts, but right now I’m behind in my real (paying) writing and must turn my attention to that. Suffice it to say that more plants followed me home from Yarmouth County, Shelburne County, and Digby County. (Surprise surprise surprise).

This prompted me to make a small list of more garden centres and nurseries I like, to add to the previous top ten (which was really 13) nurseries in the province that I really like.

There are a number that aren’t here—either because I’ve never been there or I’m not terribly fond of them--and of that latter, there are only a couple of places that fall into that category.

Briar Patch 4568 Highway #1,South Berwick, Nova Scotia B0P 1E0 Tel: 902-538-9164 Fax: 902-538-1176: It’s always a treat to visit Lee and John at Briar Patch and the geese, and Willow-the-dog, and the horses, rabbits and ducks…and the PLANTS! There are always choice, exciting and healthy plants to be adopted, from spring bulbs to shrubs and trees. The Dickies have a great selection of conifers (which I’m very fond of) and also of standards (which I’m less fond of ONLY because they’re too formal for my rambunctious non-designed garden. These people love plants, and it shows.

Den Haan’s Garden World: Highway 1, Middleton NS 902-825-4722: A fullsized, full service nursery with a lot of garden ‘giftware’—my only complaint is that most of it is sourced and manufactured offshore—I’d like to see some Nova Scotian/Atlantic garden art and giftware in there. The den Haans also grow hothouse tomatoes, which in the middle of winter taste utterly, completely divine. They’re pretty fine now, too, but only til I get a field-ripened tomato into my hands.

Foggy Hollow Farm: 3949 Hwy 215 Noel, NS (902) 369-2568 We are 3 km west of Noel on Hwy 215. May - October: 7 days a week, 9 am - 9 pm. I met Richard and Marjorie at the Saltscapes Expo, where they had a booth, and a couple of weeks later I made the trek to Noel to see their place. Wonderful selection of very robust and enthusiastic plants, and the farm also supplies other nurseries with annuals.

Garden of Eatin’ Plants, 5716 Highway # 201, Paradise. 902 584-3514: A delightfully punny name for a delightful farm; gorgeous annuals that filled much of the back seat last time I was there, veggie transplants too. Closing for the season in a couple of weeks, so do go visit them!

Gerry’s Nursery: RR#2, Centreville, NS Tel: 678-1255: Gerry’s is one of the first places I started visiting regularly when I finally had a home of my own where I could give free reign to my gardening obsessions. I still visit a number of times each summer and always come home with a variety of perennials and shrubs, but also some great annuals for container plantings. Gerry has been in the nursery business for more years than he would probably like to admit, and he’s seen it all—he and his business partner Joyce are two of my favourite garden people because they are knowledgeable, generous with their wisdom, and never, EVER talk down to people.

Lavender Hill Nursery 373 Lake John Rd Jordan Falls, Shelb Co. NS B0T 1J0 (902)875-4600. This was one of those happy finds that another gardener put me on to a couple of years ago, and I can’t WAIT to visit the nursery each year. Madeline and Alison (can’t find their card so not sure if I’ve spelled their names correctly!) operate this nursery from spring until into summer, and they always have unique annuals as well as shrubs and perennials. I’ve made it there twice this year, quite an accomplishment, and each time some other interesting plants climb into the car with me. Yesterday I agonized over a couple of shrubs I really liked, and I tried to tempt Flora into getting a couple she was drooling gently over. But we were both very good and just bought annuals and perennials instead.

Lowland Gardens 8844 Hwy 2 Great Village, NS (902) 668-2309. I wrote about visiting Lowland earlier in the week—I expect to be going back there soon, too. Marvelous place to visit and terrifically helpful, pleasant staff (and owners) to boot.

Pine View: Pine View Farm Inc.145 Harold Whynot Rd, Bridgewater, NS Telephone (902) 543-4228 or 1-888-850-6136. This is a huge operation, and a pretty nice place, although my trip there several weeks ago was marred by the rudeness of one of the staff members to my spouse, as I observed before. He doesn’t want to go back—I however, will, and will chat with the owners about customer service.

Scotian Gold Country Garden Centre 7033 Highway #1 Coldbrook, B4R 1B6 T 902-679-6786 F 902-679-1055 Another of my regular stops, and I feel guilty because I keep forgetting to include them in lists. Of course I’m partial to this place because it’s part of Scotian Gold Co-operative, celebrating 50 years in business this year. Co-ops RULE, in my opinion—and I like that the garden centre gets as many plants from local suppliers as it can.

St Mary’s Bay Gardens/Le Jardin de la Baie Ste. Marie: Riverview Drive, New Edinburgh 902-837-7413. Open til the end of July regular hours, by appointment following 31 July. For years, every time I go to Yarmouth and come back the Number 1 highway, I’ve seen this sign and wanted to go in for a visit; today I finally made it to St. Mary’s Bay Gardens (which I like better in French because it rolls beautifully off the tongue, and salutes the land of l’Acadie. Wonderful selection in this family owned nursery, good prices too on annuals and perennials especially. I’ll be back!

West River Greenhouses: Central West River Pictou County, N.S. Tel: 902-925-2008 Exit 20 to Route 4 to Route 376. Another of those places I rarely get to visit, but like for its quality plants.

Woodland Farm Nursery Highway No. 1 Annapolis Royal Nova Scotia, Phone: (902) 532-GROW or (902) 532 7617. This nursery was one of my stops on my last trip to Yarmouth, and there wasn’t time to visit again today—but it’s not far from Annapolis Royal so I’m sure we’ll get there before the season is out. The purple beech I bought from Sheila and Richard has settled in nicely, and will be a star performer, I’m sure.

Enough for tonight: garden eye candy will return next posting, I promise, and I might even get my Garden Bloggers Bloom Day report done…