My Future Ancient Trees
The loss of two giant Eastern cottonwoods in the span of less than a decade made me all the more determined to give a good start to our Future Ancient Trees.
I am impatiently growing a garden in rural Quebec. I love experimenting with growing fruit and vegetables. I find it hard to just sit down and do nothing in the garden.
The loss of two giant Eastern cottonwoods in the span of less than a decade made me all the more determined to give a good start to our Future Ancient Trees.
Early in April, I had to leave home for a few weeks and entrust my garden to someone else.
Winter can be such a different experience for gardeners in different zones. For those of us in frosty climes, it is a period of snow gardens.
I like weeding. When I am confused or tired, I can always go weeding, and come back home with a sense of a mission accomplished. Weeding is undervalued as a garden task and I will try to convince you to do some more weeding this season.
I confess, in October and November each year, I pretend to enjoy the fall. But really, I stumble between stubborn remnants of earlier joy and increasing desperation.
Every year as I go on vacation and extended visit with my family, I suffer from garden separation anxiety.
We created our garden around golden light. We structured it not so much along geometric lines, not along the contours of the land, not imagining the style we wanted, but to keep the light flowing and connecting the sky to the land.
I am snowed in. It's February, and two blizzards in four days dumped about 70 cm of snow - that's the reality of a gardener in Canada. In winter, gardeners rest, but I am restless, and my head is feverish with envy and energy for the new season.