This is a big lot, almost an acre, with about 200' along Lake Erie. With the original owners being here only 2 to 3 months a year, they were interested in enjoying the property, especially as the years passed. The maintenance of the yard was minimal, but neat.
While the early fall weather of 2009 continues nicely, as Kee and D rip into the skeleton of the cottage, I occasionally get up from my aching knees in the interior and get down on them in the gardens around the entire house. As I said before, overgrown and interwoven hostas, lily of the valley and banks and banks of snow on the mountain protect the house's foundations. In 2009, I plant few bulbs, mainly focussing on clearing out the overgrowth. The house is our more pressing concern. I decide to see what comes up in the spring of 2010 before I go all agent orange on the existing growth.
In the spring, I'm loving all the surprises that come up: the fragrant, old fashioned, lily of the valley, pale, slender mini iris, peonies, daffodils, pink hydrangeas, lots of baby, toddler and teen rose of sharons, different hostas.... along the east side of the house I recognize the thick stems of milkweek emerge. Very excited about these, because they bring butterflies. I'm going to let these grow this season, then try to replant them along the east edge of the yard... I want the continuity of milkweed growing here still, but I'd rather it was away from the house. Ditto for the peonies. All fall and the following summer the yard is never without monarchs, swallotails, viceroys. I get great pictures of caterpillars on the milkweed.After the lily of the valley flowers, I start digging out most of it, except for occasional beds. I'm doing the same to most of the snow on the mountain too... that stuff surrounds the house like billowing pale green clouds.
But, in early September of 2009, I know the colour scheme I'd like to work towards and I want the spring, summer and fall of 2011 to be a vibrant, brilliant blaze of blues, whites and greens, with occasional purples and pinks, so...., in August of 2010...
Online, I go through the Veseys' catalogue, and from Prince Edward Island comes bulbs and roots .... sky blue lilies, iris: Alida, blue horizon, reticulata; blue and white hyacinthus and muscari. Giant blue allium, should look like mutant blue dried dandelions if all goes well... sky blue squill, double narcissus Manly... Lord Lieutenant Anemone (jeez, I love that name). Tulips: queen of night & shirley, blueberry ripple, angelique, purisima. In the grid notebook, goes a rough map of each yard area I plant, with circled numbers on them that correspond to the name of the recently buried. The writing gets messy, because I get weary of taking my gloves off... so many bulbs, so many, so, so many... and the pages get dirty, but I'll have some approximation of where to swear and stamp if things don't come up next spring.
In goes Emerald Blue Phlox, Veronica Prostrata, Blue peonies (but not near the house), Walker's low catmint, carnations, Clementine Blue Columbine, Camestre blue melody, garden daffodil. Around the front gardens, I inhume, near the blue hydrangeas: blue, white and peach leaf bellflowers, meadow sage, white gayfeather, husker red-beard tongue (for butterflies), heavenly blue speedwell, stokesia, white passion tulips, prince of orange hyacinthus (orange, blue and white), double snowdrops, violacea pallida tulips and blue and white anemone mix.
So many bulbs, so little knowledge, but so much faith - in Veseys.
We dig out the children of the rose of sharon tree outside our lakeside bedroom window and plant them in a row, to form an eventual rose of sharon hedge, parallel to the lake, about the same distance from the lake as the house. This will become a more private lounge chair area.
I become obsessed with lawn weeds. This lawn is not so much a true expanse of legitimate, genuine grass, as it is a true expanse of greenish weeds that are mown to a uniform length. Creeping charlie, crab grass, dandelion, plantain - shit, especially plantain - I will killkillkill plantain - and I've got the bleeding calluses to prove the darkness and intensity of my madness. We even buy a special rooter and do that until blisters break. I am still out at dusk, leaving pyramids of weedy remains in my wake... the neighbours think I nuts. I went through this same dementia when our daughter was married on our front lawn at our previous house.... don't talk to me about grubs, I will scare you.
Along the west fence, lakeside of the shed, we umbrella up a mature tree and a few shorter ones, clear out a tangle of tree off-shoots, wires, firelog stands. A semi-circular holding garden is created, where I transfer moved plants, new plants, strawberry plants, a raspberry bush, moss for between pavers... to be put in a later time. Along the west fence, I plant two rhubarb plants, likely to be moved when I know where the kitchen garden will be.
I'm all ambition, impatience and no brains... but I'll make up for it in enthusiasm and ignorance.
All the house-hugging gardens are widened and at every corner of this roughly "L"-shaped house, we round-out and enlarge the garden. Again, using the separate notebook pages for each side or section, I map out where new bulbs go in... once covered, who knows what's there..... besides, if I don't write down what it is, I'll never know at this stage of my horticareer... maybe later.
I reorder from Veseys', planting hordes of bulbs and roots. I am no gardener, but I'm willing to be taught. I try to buy the colours I want, in varying heights and blooming time, using plants that grow in this zone. More and more numbered circles on the pages, for each section of the house, each side garden.
A former co-worker has a cottage near Rondeau Park, outside Blenheim, with a massive lot, the back of which is untouched Carolinian forest. She offers the wonderful gift of trees, so one Sunday, we visit with the Jeep and wagon and, wellies muddy, dig out fifteen trees: red oaks, black walnut, chokeberry, mullberry, maples, ...... We give back with a basketful of homemade jams and a dinner to see where they've been planted in early November.
During the fall, winter and spring, the two old willow trees had a rough time of it. On two windy occasions, the willow nearest the house broke off major branches, narrowly missing the cars, then the house. Nearer the lake, the willow limb that broke off embedded itself in the hydro electric wires that run along the shoreline, taking the neighbourhood power out and causing massive overtime as three crews laboured for several hours to get all the branches off the wires. The remaining block of wood, fused onto the wires, had to be knocked off with a hammer by the brave hydro technician, up high in his bucket, as rain and waves lashed about him. They were hollow with rot, worm diggings sculptured into their wood. The main dividing crotch of the house willow had other vines growing in. A week after cutting, both willows are sprouting suckers. We keep the massive truck of the house willow.... it's about 18' high and 5' thick, cut down now, it's no danger, but still alive. I've planted a climbing hydrangea beside it, hoping it'll take.
We plant five or six trees along the shore, to aid in shading the air and grass. This summer the hot southern Ontario sun was in full force, frying the grass crispy, reflecting off the lake, then heating up the air. We'll attempt lake pump watering next year - I want lushlushlush - and I'd prefer not to pay for it. Also - no a/c here - and we're not that keen on installing it. The cottage has hot water rad heat.... no ductwork. It would be either a massive central installation job or several window units. I think later on we'll look into mini-splits, the type of wall unit a/c so prevalent in Mexico and Europe, for a couple of rooms. Our former house was surrounded heavily by shade trees that cooled the air fore and aft of the house, so we repeat that eco and wallet friendly approach.
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