By Mary Lowther
When first we moved to Mesachie David had visions of a gazebo in the centre of a croquet pitch shaded by stately trees, and it wounded me deeply to see him disappointed. The gazebo makes a lovely toolshed, surrounded by ordered rows of vegetables. As for the stately trees, sadly, they interfered dreadfully with direct sunlight. The hegemony of the garden is established and my victory is complete.
It wasn’t won by frontal assault. In strict accordance with historic tradition I added a new bed every so often, and took the time to consolidate my gains while David learned to look at Neville Chamberlain in an entirely new light. To mix my temporal metaphors, I find myself in the same position as Alexander the Great when he reached the Indus. I have no more earth to conquer here.
That’s a problem for someone in the habit of expansion. As a self aware horticultural imperialist, I know what is causing me to look longingly at the underdeveloped green space of our front yard. There are a few problems, though.
The first is that, even with the boulevard included, it is rather a small area. The second is a huge and, from David’s perspective, stately chestnut tree doing what stately trees do. Even the gentlest suggestion that the tree looks old and might soon fall on the house seems to agitate David to stubborn resistance. He gets a look in his eye I have not seen since I hung my rake and shovel in the former gazebo and turned the barbecue bench into my seed table, but what can I do? My vegicidal instincts have been aroused, and those are not edible chestnuts.
My plan of attack is to establish a beachhead in front of the porch.
I’ll have to start with shade tolerant plants. Leafy greens, cabbages and peas might do well there, but without a fence they need protection from the oversized and sometimes antlered rodents common to these parts.
One of the regulars at the Country Grocer suggested that I walk around my garden after nightfall and urinate along the perimeter. He explained that it provided him with an excellent excuse for an increased consumption of fermented barley. I thanked him for his offered wisdom, but explained that my aim is not that good.
Apparently deer don’t like many herbs, so this might be an ideal place to grow them. A raised herb garden could be an attractive focal point in a shady front yard. I could protect new seedlings with cloth cover or netting until they grew bigger and less likely to be eaten. If the soil isn’t deep enough I can add some. I once helped create community gardens on a gravel covered parking lot by spreading soil to a depth of one foot; even carrots grew well. Bear in mind that cold air flows into low lying areas and can hamper good growth.
Take a look at your own yard: are there nooks and crannies that could accommodate a carrot or two? Is there space at the bottom of a wall or fence that peas, cucumbers or even grapes could climb? A simple trellis can suffice; just ensure that the plant doesn’t grow into the wall because it may affect the infrastructure. Don’t let inexperience or uncooperative spouses prevent you from experimenting. Just remember that “the intelligent victor presents his demands in installments.”
Please contact mary_lowther@yahoo.ca with questions and suggestions since I need all the help I can get.