Some Fanfare Please...

Last week, it was with great excitement that I pranced around the backyard with delight when the first "Ernest Markham" clematis bloom burst onto the scene. Actually, "burst" is too strong a word (that's my enthusiasm coming through). It's more like the clematis quietly announced its arrival. "Look at me," it said with a wink. "I know you have been waiting." Indeed I have. Not just in the few weeks since I planted it, but for years and years.

I can't remember when I first saw a clematis, I just know that I have always wanted one. A clematis in full bloom was a sure sign that a serious gardener lurked somewhere behind the garden gate or down the flagstone path. Having always thought of myself as simply an amateur greenthumb, growing clematis (much like growing roses) seemed to be a lofty ambition. There was one other big factor: the perfect spot for the clematis was right up against a rickety, old fence that had threatened some form of collapse on a daily basis for nearly a decade. I couldn't possibly grow a beautiful clematis up that fence. Well, my green thumb has gotten a little greener and there is finally a new fence in the yard. So in went the clematis.

Now just a week after its first bloom, Little Ernie (I think I'll call this clematis Little Ernie) is bursting, yes bursting, with blooms. It has been well worth the wait. Some fanfare really is in order. There is one small problem, however. Little Ernie looks a little lonely don't you think? Now that I'm the serious gardener behind the garden gate, it seems only fair that I find Little Early some playmates. With the spectacular spectacle clematis has to offer, it won't be long before I'm cueing the trumpets yet again.

Silly Seedheads

Earlier this spring I planted some Dwarf Windflowers (anemone multifida rubra). Their delicate red blooms caught my eye. They were perfect for what was slowly evolving into my five-year old's secret garden (designed specifically to attract fairies.) Now that the plants have gone to seed, the windflowers seem even better suited to a children's garden. They look downright silly. I did a double take a few days ago when I first saw a strange puffy, white substance in a semi-shady section of the garden. Then I laughed when I realized it was the seeds in all their fuzzy glory. Honestly, they made me think of Albert Einstein. I had the urge to get some of those kids' craft googly eyes and stick them on the plant. If the seed heads are any indication, there will be plenty of windflowers next spring and by July I'll have an army of Einsteins standing tall in the secret garden.

I've Been Tagged!

There are all sorts of firsts in the blogosphere: first post, first comment, first anniversary. I have to thank the tenacious Gardenista at Northern Exposure Gardening for another first here at My Roots Run Deep. I've been tagged! If the hands don't give it away, here's something very obvious about me: I LOVE to garden. But today's tag is about the not so obvious.

But first, let's get the guidelines out of the way:
1. Link to the person who tagged you.
2. Post the rules on the blog.
3. Write six random things about yourself.
4. Tag six people at the end of your post.
5. Let each person know they have been tagged by leaving a comment on their blog.
6. Let the tagger know when your entry is up.

So here goes: six random facts about me.

1. I have only ever lived at three addresses, all within a five minute walk of each other. In fact, I live on the street I grew up on. My preference for my west-Toronto neighbourhood is in part the inspiration for the name of my blog. My husband always jokes about how deep my roots really run.

2. When mystery writer Elizabeth George comes out with a new novel, I put everything on hold. The laundry languishes, the phone goes unanswered, the family is left to fend for themselves for dinner. Even a trip to the garden centre can wait. She's that good. I have read everything she has written and am amazed that she keeps getting better and better and better. And I don't even like mysteries!

3. I saw Martin Scorsese's "Mean Streets" in high school. The film, featuring a young Robert DeNiro and Harvey Keitel, blew me away. There was a raw energy to it that I had never seen before. It was back in the days of the VHS tape so when I finished watching the film, I hit rewind and watched it again. I still consider it my favourite film of all-time. (Note to Gardenista: "Hot Fuzz" is a great film, the best time I had at the movies in a long-time.)

4. I always wear my hair short. If it's longer than a buzz cut, it's too long for me.

5. I'm addicted to Coca-Cola. I could live on Coke and Coke alone. I deal with my Coke obsession by going cold-turkey. I once went a whole year without a taste. Now, I try to keep my habit to a can a week.

6. I love Halloween. If it were up to me, the whole country would get a week off to decorate and celebrate and fling ridiculous amounts of candy to waiting children. It is just too much fun! Last year I was Moses but was mistaken for Santa Claus and Dumbledore from the Harry Potter films. I guess the costume alone wasn't enough. I need to work on developing the character.

Now it's my turn to tag:

1. Connie at Notes from a Cottage Garden. Connie always has an encouraging word and her beautiful garden is an inspiration.

2. Gisela at Guildwood Gardens. Gisela's garden and wildlife photos are so beautiful I find it hard to believe we live in the same city.

3. Jeremy at Paradise in Progress. The man with a garden blueprint one day, and a beautiful garden the next.

4. Garden Lily at Flowers and Weeds. Garden Lily's espaliered fruit trees are simply divine.

5. Violet at Lady Greenthumb's Garden. I just started reading Violet's blog. Her flowers are beautiful. Her garden crew of cats and dogs is delightful. And we can commiserate over Croatia's performance in the Euro Cup.

6. And finally, The Wicked Gardener This Florida gardener cracks me up. Just check out the anniversary photo on her blog. Married on Halloween! That's what I'm talking about! Oh, and her garden rocks too.

So tag. You're it. Thanks again to Gardenista for inspiring some fun.

Scream-Inducing Garden Event

I knew it was too good to be true. All this week I had been marvelling at my backyard serviceberry tree. I planted it last summer. It produced a handful or two of berries, most of them quickly devoured by racoons, squirrels and birds. Oh well, I thought, next year will be better. Sure enough, this year the serviceberry branches are just dripping with berries. I spent many a minute standing before the berry-laden branches, picking one here and one there and basking in the glow of success.

So perhaps I jinxed myself by sharing this great garden news with a fellow green-thumb. "I have been having such luck with my serviceberry" I said to my colleague. "Last year, the raccoons picked it clean. This year, the berries haven't been touched." Even as I was saying the words, I wanted to take them back. They seem like an invitation to disaster. So you can imagine my horror when I stepped out into the backyard to find this.

My tree had been decapitated! Something had snapped the main horizontal branch and a side branch right off. (I imagined a big fat raccoon leaping from the top of the fence to land on the top branch.) There was a scream when I saw the damage, not a very loud one mind you, but a sad, defeated scream. It was followed by several minutes of angry mutterings peppered with profanity.

Shifting into damage control mode was the only option lest I sink into a pit of all-consuming bitterness and rage. I cut back the damaged branches and then summoned the family to the back deck telling them to start picking. Something's after our berries, I declared. The best revenge was to get to the berries before the critters did. And what a tasty revenge it was.

Summer's Arrival in the Garden

What better way to welcome summer than with the first daylily bloom of the year. The blazing orange of the blooms reminds me of the sun at high noon (not that we've had much sun).

The lavender was looking pretty woody and straggly this spring. I thought it might be time to replace it but in full bloom it looks amazing.

The foxglove is new to the garden this year. My daughter picked it out last year after I relayed the often-told tale that the blooms make the perfect-sized gloves for foxes.

While the foxglove is standing at about four feet tall, the foxtail lily is towering at upwards of six feet. Whereas last year I had only one spire of flowers, this year I have two.

While I can't help but be impressed by the heights reached by the foxglove and foxtail, one of my favourite plants of all time prefers to stay a little closer to the ground: the veronica spicata "Royal Candles" (shown here with some geranium clambering up its side). All in all, it has been a fabulous start to the summer.

City Street Planter Review: Awful!

I was just starting to wonder when the city was going to get around to filling the tree planters that line the sidewalks when ...voila! The flowers have arrived. The selection of plants isn't exactly awe-inspiring. Instead, there's a lot of the tried and true: petunias, begonias, potato vines. It's hard to go wrong with these plants in a tough, unforgiving, urban environment.

This year, however, there is something distinctly different. The flowers aren't planted IN the planters. They are sitting on top of the planters in lined wire baskets. Those baskets, in turn, are sitting in plastic garden trays. The whole contraption is held in place by a metal frame that wraps itself around the tree trunk. Let me pause here to give you my impressions: Bleechh! Ugh! and Bleechh! This is truly an eyesore.

What were they thinking? Money must be factor: I suppose it's more cost effective to drop off a pre-fab garden display and bolt it into place than to individually address each street planter. Over time, I suppose the plants will fill in and hide the framework. That takes time, though. In the meantime the view is hideous. The plastic trays are no doubt meant to collect rainwater to keep the plant baskets moist. In a city that's been drought-ridden for the past few summers, I say good luck. Even with a normal amount of rainfall, every gardener knows that these types of baskets need extra water. Without some added help, they'll be fried by the end of July. Is there a plan to keep these plants alive?

I don't know if this is a city-wide initiative or a move by the local business improvement group. Whoever is responsible, I suggest a re-think. If beautifying the streetscape is the objective, this is a step in the wrong direction. There is nothing beautiful about this. If saving money is the objective, wouldn't a one-time expense on a planting of hardy perennials be a better choice, one that could provide beautiful blooms for years to come?

Maybe, come August, these planters will prove me wrong. Maybe they will be lush and overflowing with blooms. After all, at just the right distance and just the right angle, they don't look that bad, do they? Yeah, right. "The devil is in the details," goes the saying. The details of these baskets, metal frames and hideous, hideous plastic trays add up to one big mess. Here's my review: awful. Just awful.

What do you think?

Looking Back, Looking Ahead

April 20, 2008: It's hard to believe that just over six weeks ago the garden was struggling along in a very cool, very wet spring. It seemed the sunshine would never arrive. So did the cool start hurt?

June 6, 2008: Not a chance. The garden is thriving. Hate to say it, but it is even a little out of control and overgrown in some spaces. I'll attribute that to my preference for the slightly wild and naturalized look as opposed to the fact that I sometimes ignore my responsibilities as a gardener. Realistically though, maybe some plant division is in order this fall. Ha! I'm thinking about fall just as the first major heatwave of the year hits (it arrived out of the blue, literally overnight, like a stifling, wet, blanket of smothering air.) As a gardener I would benefit from time travel. I could zip back to April to see where I need bulbs and then zip further back to the previous fall to plant them. And while I was there I could cut and hack and divide the garden back into a more tame state. Since time travel is unlikely, I'll just have to live in the moment, looking back and looking ahead at everything that could have or should have been done in my ever-changing garden.