A spot of weather......

Into every life--and every trip--a little rain must fall. In the case of Wednesday on Battle Harbour, it wasn't a little rain. It was a drownpour! Drenching, wild rains, but also just a little bit of wind--something around 60 kph, for the first go-around.
Thursday dawned cool and clear--and breezy. Just how breezy, we weren't to know for a while. But we're a little ahead of ourselves here. First we made the ride by ferry back to mainland Labrador, which was comfortable and not indicative that there might be something ahead, then took the Highway of Hell (also known by most people as the Labrador Highway) back to Red Bay. This time, with less urgency, we stopped to look around some and take photos. We were especially struck by the rapidly running river, and the Mars-like appearance of the burned barrens all around the area--for miles and miles.


We got back to Red Bay and noticed that things were a bit exciteable there, in terms of the weather. We were having, apparently, the tail end of a hurricane.

Undaunted, but somewhat impressed, we set off down the (blessedly paved) highway to L'anse Amour, our next port of call for plant hunting and staying. The surf coming in on the beach gave us some idea of what was up. A bit too much wind for doing any planthunting, that's for sure.


Since photographing plants seemed a bit out of the question, we went site-seeing. I'm very partial to lighthouses so we went to the Point Amour lighthouse, the tallest one in Atlantic Canada at 109 feet.

It has stood here protecting mariners of all kinds from peril from the sea for well over 100 years, so there was no danger of it falling over--still, we waited til calmer weather to climb it. I figured going up 120 or so steps to the top and watching 'green ones', or huge storm waves, would cause more than a little vertigo. The waves were impressive enough from the ground (from a safe distance).




You may see a 'Danger' sign posted here on this cliff line. Is it to warn about waves? Eroding shorelines? Undertows? Man-eating seals?

Nope. About unexploded ammunition.

Great.....My understanding is there is still, buried in the sand and rock along this part of the shore, some ammunition from a ship that went aground here earlier in the 20th century--maybe the Raleigh, a British warship from the twenties, or perhaps one from during WWll. It was strange to look at that sign juxtaposed with the tantrums of the waves.

This morning dawned clear, and breezy but less so, and after several hours of scrambling over the rocky cliffs and ledges below the place where we stayed, we decided a trip to the Lighthouse was in order. We climbed up with no problem, but the U2 song 'Vertigo has been in our heads every since. Incredible view, and magnificent structure...but we were happier when we had gone down a level or so.



Some of us are now in Hawke Bay/Torrent River, and tomorrow are returning for a few hours in Gros Morne before trekking back to Port aux Basques and the ferry back to the mainland. We had originally planned to take the Labrador-Nfld ferry first thing this morning, but it was cancelled all day yesterday and first run this morning, and it wasn't until the 1800 crossing that we got on--(which was Plan B). A couple of us found the crossing rough, but I thought it was just great, (that's more proof I was a sailor--or a pirate--in another lifetime!) so I entertained my companions to keep them distracted.

It's nearly Garden Bloggers Bloom Day again, but I'll have to ask for dispensation to be late with mine, due to travel. I will get up some photos of plants we saw on our trip, and some explanation of Bakeapples, bearberries, partridgeberries and the like as soon as I can.

Hard to believe we've been here almost a week, and that our adventure is almost done. Some are still in Labrador, but others of us needed to be back, so The Fellowship of the Planthunters is dissolved and we're heading off in various directions. There will be lots to talk about (and blog about) for a long time to come yet, however). Stay tuned.....

Butterflies and bedrock

Welcome to Nfld !

Nearly a thousand kilometers later and a six hour ferry ride later, we're in Gros Morne National Park and UNESCO Heritage Site, in a community called Rocky Harbour. We've driven partway up the western edge of the island, starting in Port aux Basques, stopping in Corner Brook to visit a marvelous book and craft store, where we found awesome books on flora of Nfld and Labrador. Then we drove on up the road to Deer Lake where we turned to head for Gros Morne, stopping first at the Nfld Insectarium, which features a live butterfly garden.


We spent nearly two hours here, both in the butterfly garden where there were dozens of unique butterflies from site throughout the world, and in the three floors of exhibits, including beetles, walkingsticks, and more butterflies and moths than either I or my travelling companion could have imagined.







Then we were back in the car and off towards Gros Morne. We had already seen some spectacular scenery, with incredible hills and valleys and fjords.

You know how people are always going on about the Cabot Trail in Cape Breton, in my own province? How it's so great? Well, nuts to all that. Compared to Gros Morne, the Cabot Trail is a footpath through a tiny hill. It's so overrated and over blown...and i thought maybe Gros Morne would be the same.

It isn't. It is amazing, breathtaking, mindboggling and humbling.


It's hard to show the sense of scale in the mountains and valleys throughout the park, but I can tell you that Gros Morne mountain itself is 806 meters (2644 feet) tall; and is a breathtaking hunk of rock and scree and wildlife to observe. It also has helped scientists understand more about the formation of our world.


From another website on this great natural wonder:

The Park's remarkable variety of geologic features provides a world-class illustration of the massive movements of the Earth's crust, and ranks Gros Morne among our planet's most important natural areas.

Gros Morne's landscape owes its grandeur to the dramatic transition from mountain to sea. The cliffs of the Long Range Mountains, towering over deep freshwater fjords, change to coastal lowlands, sweeping out to the Gulf of St. Lawrence.

What makes Gros Morne a UNESCO Heritage Site? Here's an explanation from Parks Canada:

The park is considered a textbook illustration of plate tectonics, the theory that suggests continent-sized plates of the Earth’s crust have collided and separated repeatedly over geological time, opening and closing oceans between them.

Six hundred million years ago, Europe and North America were joined but were starting to pull apart. Magma from the lower crust welled up and filled the gap between them — the solidified magma is now visible in the cliffs of Gros Morne’s Western Brook Pond. From 570 to 420 million years ago, there was an ocean between the two continents called the Iapetus Sea. Sedimentary strata in the park preserve fossils of almost every phylum known to exist during that time — a virtual catalogue of evolution. By 460 million years ago, North America and Europe were pressing together, raising the Appalachian Mountains and closing the Iapetus Sea. Some blocks of oceanic crust and mantle were transported west and raised to the surface of the earth. Eons later, glacial ice scoured the area, creating fiords and cutting transects of the mountains that reveal their geological past.

That scientific explanation fails to capture the majesty, the mystery and the immense age and history of this part of the province--or rather, this part of the world.

Remember I said this was a humbling place to be? Because standing there contemplating both Gros Morne and surrounding plateaus and tables of the Long Range Mountains, and the plunging beauty of the fjords, I can't help but think about the millions of years this site has stood; and how many millions more it will stand. Nothing of human construct will ever have that sort of history. We are, indeed a puny race when set up opposite the forces of nature.

It's a six to eight hour height to reach the summit of the mountain, and we weren't up for that. Especially reading the information about the hike and what you should and shouldn't do:

This topographical map gives some indication of just how scalloped and textured the geology and geography of the area is just around Gros Mornel although there is far more to the park and to this part of the province, too.



Tonight, we stayed at the Ocean View Hotel in Rocky Harbour, a fishing station used by the French in the late nineteenth century; before supper, I went for a drive to a community called Norris Point , with views of more of the mountains and the fjords of Bonne Bay.


After a supper that featured (for me) fresh cod and partridgeberry crumble tart, it was time to just sit listening to the waves coming in on the beach across from the hotel, and soon to go to sleep. Because while the ferry ride was smooth as glass and the bunks were comfortable enough, the numerous rich, mostly redneck Ontario and American (and sadly, drunken) \ moose hunters who were on the ferry, heading up to go bow-hunting moose here in the province, were less than enjoyable; although we all wondered why on earth they were parading around the ferry in full camouflage regalia. Appparently there was some danger that a moose might leap onto the vessel and start attacking passengers, and these clowns wanted to be ready to save us all. Or something.

Highspeed access tonight was good, but it's hard to say when I'll get it again. We'll see if it's possible in St. Barbe's, on the tip of the province, tomorrow night. Meanwhile, the adventure continues. And if you want to go somewhere so beautiful it will make your heart ache: come to the Rock of my heart, this province of my birth, and to Gros Morne. It is one of nature's most exquisite masterpieces.

Eastward, Ho!

Being a freelance writer can be a pain sometimes, when people don't pay their invoices on time or cancel stories or sources refuse to return emails or phone calls...but that's a very, very very small part of my working life. My dear friend and award-winning novelist Ami McKay quotes another writer who says we should all 'Follow our bliss'. I am so blessed in so many ways to be able to do just that.

Late summer and early autumn may irk me in some ways, but in other ways they are great. For the past few years, I've been away for a week or so every year on some kind of adventure or another. A couple of years it's been going to sea with the Canadian Coast Guard Ship Hudson, doing ocean research; one year it was also to go on fisheries patrol and Search and Rescue with CCGS Cygnus (I was away a LOT in the fall of 2005!) For three years I sat on the board of a national writers association and we had board meetings in Toronto in the fall; not the most marvelous place to visit, but China Town and the Royal York are always lovely. Last year, I found myself on a train trip west, courtesy of Via Rail's Garden Route, and some of the gardens on the route. In six days, I visited five cities and many gardens: Montreal, home of the Montreal Botanical Gardens and International Flora;
Ottawa/Gatineau, home of MacKenzie King's Estate
Toronto, where they tear up native gardens, but have the Toronto Botanical Gardens as a salve to their guilty conscience.
Burlington/Hamilton, home of the exquisite Royal Botanical Garden, which next to Kingsbrae is my favourite (of those I've visited); (and not far from Niagara Falls, which is seriously cool, despite the tacky Neon of Clifton Hill;
And the surprise in the bunch, Windsor, Ontario, across from Detroit--a place I'd never been before. The edge of the tallgrass prairie, and home to a wealth of gardens, especially along their clean and restored waterfront. Detroit city fathers ought to take note, given what I could see across the river. I REALLY loved my visit to Windsor, a completely different part of the world from my sea-washed homeland.

Tomorrow, I begin this year's adventure. Back in June, you may recall that I went to see my absolute Hort Hero, Captain Dick Steele. We talked about many things, including his yearly trip to northern Newfoundland and Labrador, and I asked about going this year: was there room, how much would it cost, etc.

I came home from that visit and started squirreling away a little cash here and there...and tomorrow, I'm off on a plant-hunting expedition with Dick and about 14 others, including two of my other hort-heros, several nursery owners from here in the Valley.

I can hardly wait. We are meeting in various locations, as there are several people flying in from the US; but some of us are taking the ferry from North Sydney (Cape Breton Island) to Port Aux Basques, on the west coast of Newfoundland. Then we're driving over several days to the top of the Great Northern Peninsula, through Gros Morne National Park (which is a UNESCO World Heritage Site) and up to St. Barbe, taking the ferry across to Quebec near the Labrador border, and then driving up the Labrador coast to take a ferry to Battle Island, home of Battle Harbour Historic site. There will be many spells of 'Urgent Plant Hunting Madness' along the way, although I'm not going along to collect seed or scions for myself. Rather, I'm listening, watching, taking photos and learning as much as I can from all these marvelous, knowledgeable people. Some of us, including me, will also be travelling to Newfoundland's Other UNESCO site, L'anse a Meadows, home of the first known European settlers/explorers site (where the Vikings landed.)

How great is this: botany, history, geography and geology, all in one awesome trip. The only drawback, of course, is that my longsuffering spouse isn't able to come on this trip--and neither are the catchildren, especially Spunky Boomerang, who knows something is up and IS.NOT.IMPRESSED. But they'll all be fine, and I'll bring back treats of various sorts, including Pure Labrador Bakeapple products. If you don't know what a bakeapple is...stay tuned and you'll learn. Internet connectivity may be sporadic, but I'll do up a few posts and get them out when I can. Ditto email. But there will be lots of stories to tell, so do come back to visit often!

Just a few minutes

There really aren't a lot of words needed for this...mouse over the photo to see how it all happened in just a couple of minutes. (each photo is named according to the date stamp as I took the photo, but the upshot is it all took about half an hour from stoic, silent chrysalis to vibrant life.


















And while I was sitting on the wet grass rejoicing in this newest addition to the world, I looked over, and saw another chrysalis I hadn't seen before. The more we look, the more we see.



I'm very grateful that this monarch chose this morning to emerge, and while I was outside checking them too...there will be more over the next few days but I'm unlikely to see them, as I'm busy with preparations for my adventure. More on that this evening.....

Euphorbia euphoria

One of the things that really delights me about plants is the way one genus can have so many very different species (and cultivars, of course) The first euphorbia I remember growing was ‘Crown of Thorns’ but most of us who celebrate Christmas know a variety that’s even more commonly found: the poinsettia.

Here’s a little botany for those who care about such things. The brightly coloured ‘petals’ on poinsettias and their Euphorbia relatives are actually modified leaves called ‘bracts.’ The flowers are in the centre, quite small and uninteresting looking. However—that’s no reason to spraypaint them blue (a rant from last December, with apologies to any of my American friends—I wasn’t picking on you, just the poinsettias!)

Anyway, on to the interesting stuff. Even up here in less-than tropical Nova Scotia, we have a pile of euphorbias that lend themselves splendidly to our gardens. Who hasn’t grown cushion spurge, E. polychroma? It might be ‘overgrown’ to some—but I like it a lot—well behaved, sits there where planted and shows off politely all season long. I now have a dandy variegated variety, ‘Lacey’, that I think is just as nice.

Euphorbias tend to be pretty undemanding; give them good drainage, sun, (part shade for a few of them) and that’s about it. Divide them occasionally (those that are inclined to spread by rhizomes) or pot up seedlings from those that spread seed, and that’s it. Many of them are particularly good for xerophyte gardens, because they can handle dry conditions without being too bothered. We can’t grow some of the tender or heat-loving types, but there are plenty to keep me entertained. I bought six new-to-me cultivars this year, and we’ll see if they all come through or not.

One caveat; although poinsettias aren’t toxic like they’ve long been reputed to be, many (I won’t say all because I don’t know) euphorbias exude a milky sap which can be quite caustic. About five years ago I broke a stem of cypress spurge and splashed a bit of sap in my eye, which resulted in a 6 hour visit to the emergency room at the hospital. Not my idea of fun, and it was VERY uncomfortable. So do be careful when working with these otherwise charming and versatile plants.



E. ‘Chameleon’; This is my Chameleon in its late-summer phase, a flsh of greens and pinks—with one stalwart purple stem of leaves in contrast. This one does seed, but I have plenty of places I’d like to put it, so seed on, plant!


E. martini ‘Rudolph’ New to me this year, and quite fascinating with the dark stamens in the flower centre—looks like eyes to me. I’ve tucked it into a sheltered spot, just to be on the safe side.



E. Excaliber Hasn’t done a lot yet except settle in and grow. I like it for the silver central rib in the leaves. Here it is sitting beside ‘Bob the bristlecone pine’. It may not live 4000 years like I hope Bob will, but it's still a nice plant!


E. polychroma ‘Lacey’ Also called E. variegata, apparently. I like the soft silvery edges to the leaves, and when the yellow bracts and flowers were out it was quite striking. It’s planted not far from E. Efanthia, and with a limeglow juniper and a gold plumose falsecypress nearby to add to the lemonlime fest.


E. myrsinites Donkey-tail spurge gives me some problems because it gets traumatized in the spring by too much wet weather—even though it’s planted in near-gravel. Despite its moodiness, it puts up seedlings every year, so I always have some new plant. I’m thinking about putting it in a trough that I can move into the greenhouse until the weather smartens up in late spring.


E. Efanthia. Right now, Efanthia looks pretty much like other spurges—green. But as cool weather comes on, it will turn burgundy. This was the mystery spurge I had last year-and this year I’m covering it earlier to protect it, as it’s only hardy to -20 F, and we DO get days colder than that.


E. ‘Bonfire’ Caused me to go right into orbit when I saw it either in a magazine or on a website. This is STUNNING in the spring; purple foliage, tapering to green bracts and then those brilliant acid-yellow flowers. I love it!


E. Blue Haze. This may be a zonal denial plant too, but it’s planted near big stones that catch and hold the heat, and I’ll give it the spruce-bough treatment come late November, and we’ll see how it fares. Its ghost-blue colour had me but the rosey stalks add to the fun.


E. cyparissias There was Cypress spurge here when we arrived, and I’ve moved it to a different spot, where it behaves nicely. It’s a pretty, lacy thing, although not that strikingly different.


E. c. ‘Fen’s Ruby’ However, this cypress spurge rocks! It’s got this lovely burgundy tint to its foliage as the summer goes on, and while last year it wasn’t much, it’s taken hold nicely this year. I can’t remember the fall colour, but will watch for it.


E. griffithii Fireglow. This is my favourite euphorbia, bar none. (Dixter, a better behaved cultivar, died on me—so it’s not THAT well behaved!). Others have found Fireglow a bit too territory-stealing, but I just dig up the ‘orange-asparagus’ shoots in the spring that I don’t want, and give them to people who react like I did when I saw this. “I want it. Now!” The year I got it, the nursery I had hoped to claim a pot from didn’t have enough to divide; but I found it at the NSAC garden plant sale and I ran towards it, getting there just ahead of some bleached-blonde chickie who gave me a dirty look.

This concludes my love-song-to spurges. It’s curious (to me, anyway) that three of my favourite perennials have botanical names starting with E; Echinacea, Eryngium, and Euphorbia. Does this mean anything? Probably not—but the plants are Excellent!

The miracle of birth vs the weedwhackers

So I'm musing over assorted work related topics and trying to decide whether to vacuum the house or work on assignments when Long Suffering Spouse starts hollering outside. I knew he was out back with one of the neighbours, so I went out...and met this new arrival, wings still wet.

Well, naturally I ran for my camera, and returned to sit in wet grass watching her as she rested, opened her wings a few times, and unfurled her proboscis a bit for my observing pleasure.
I left her be, hanging there on her rudbeckia, and went around to look at the others. Some others have also hatched, though I haven't seen them yet--it's cool here and they need to get their wings warmed up before they can fly--but I hope to catch this one in the process of coming out, as it's obviously getting ready to emerge soon:

Meanwhile, there are several cats munching through the swamp milkweed again. I told them they'd better hurry up, as Kylee at Our Little Acre reports that the migration has begun down her way.

As if to compensate for my moody posting on Muse Day, the garden is bustling with life--much of it of the insect kind, especially pollinators, with big fat bumbles and other bees, bee-mimicking flies, and other friends. Plus we've seen several garden toads, a few frogs up from the pond, and my favourite, the tiny tree-frogs known as spring peepers. They're silent now, of course, but they're here. The skunks have been digging up grubs from the grass, and they're welcome too, because they have a laissez-faire attitude towards the cats.

And there are still plenty of flowers, even if some of them are of the kind that annoy one Ranter ; echinaceas and rudbeckia. As I posted in comments, though, each to their own. At least we're all gardening--and not cutting off other people's gardens like the nice municipal plant-nazis in Toronto, right?

Okay, back to thinking about butterflies and other life-affirming creatures. What's blooming in your garden--flora or fauna--that makes YOUR heart sing?

The NSAC Rock Garden

Here's a little 'eye candy' or 'gardenporn' from the NSAC Rock Garden in Truro. A few of these photos are from earlier times of the season.


One of these years I hope to have a thyme walkway, but in the meantime, I'll enjoy the one that wends through the Rock Garden.


Trough gardens are something I'm just starting to get into. I love the delicate textures and colours of the plants, although this platycodon isn't what you'd call subtle, is it?


I do not know what sedum this is. I intend to find out and get one for our garden. The foliage colours are subtle, moreso than some of the purple or variegated ones, and the flowers I would call soft yellow--as opposed to the usual brilliant yellow of some of the creeping types, or the flaming hot pink of some of the tall species and cultivars. Whatever it is, I WANT!


I can't find in my notes just how many tons of rock were brought in to create the topography of the rock garden, but it was an impressive amount. This was always a hillside, sloping down from some of the campus classroom and admin buildings towards the farm, but it was grassed with some trees and shrubs and a few plots of annuals in my day. This has all been built in less than five years, too!


There is always something in bloom throughout the gardening months, that's for sure! I love the rich colours of the dianthus and veronicas.


This courtyard features a number of trough gardens, a crevasse garden, a lovely pergola and places to sit and dream.


Taken earlier in the season, with lots of brilliant colour and texture among the boulders and pea gravel.


Matching planters grace the entryway to Cumming Hall, the administration building and home to Alumni Theatre. I spent a lot of time in this building back in my day, studying in empty classrooms or looking at the class portraits from graduating classes of years gone by.


This dish garden of succulents stopped me dead in my tracks when I saw it, and an instant flush of plant-lust came over me. Succulents really appeal because of their unique shapes, colourations and just tidy ways of growing. I have to confess that mine have suffered over the past few months, through benign neglect--but I will make amends!


If memory serves correctly, this is an Echeveria species in flower. I love the subtle colours around the flowers, don't you?


This might be a naughty species of ladybird beetle. I don't know--but I got a great charge out of watching it delicately nibbling the edge of a leaf.


If I'd been thinking, I would have set something down beside this plant to show the size of its leaves, which are, in a word, minute; each leaf is about the size of the head of a pin. In fact, my first look at this dish garden I didn't even notice this succulent, and if you go back and look at the photo of the whole dishgarden you'll see why. And if you click on this one to enlarge, you'll see an oxalis leaf among the plant, so that gives you some scale too.

And this entry shows just one more reason why I love plants--the huge variation in colours, forms, textures, sizes, etc just keeps me appreciating, and learning, more about these marvelous organisms. I hope you enjoyed this little trip to the Rock Garden too!