August looms and I was sitting on my deck wondering why about half my carrots seemed to be wilting.
I’ve often told people who are envious of my raspberry patch (which is modest at best, but produces faithfully each season) that a raspberry bush was literally the first thing I planted in my yard. We moved into our newly-built home about 15 years ago and spent two years setting the landscaping foundations that would eventually be our (mostly) finished backyard. I didnt have many rules, but one of the few that I set down as I started planning, planting and pruning was that whenever possible I wanted fruit-bearing plants to occupy the garden and beds.
Gardens are funny in the way that on one day they are potential things, they are spaces about to produce food.
Gardening in Alberta means fighting the quackgrass invasion that never ends. The invasive, aggressive grass is hardy and thick, and grows by spreading its rhizome roots underground at rates of up to two and a half centimetres per day. Pulling off the tops does little to thwart the progress, mowing is laughably pointless, and unless garden edging reaches to the core of the earth, bordering gardens does little more than frustrate. When I was digging fence posts, a meter in the ground, I found quackgrass as deep as I dug down. The most effective attack is probably a chemical one...
This is the point in the garden when optimism is flourishing as much as the plants seem to be.
It’s been about a month since we planted, and much has come up strong and healthy.
Two weeks after getting all the seeds into the ground, two weeks filled with a balanced mix of sun, rain, and spring warmth, most of the crops are now poking their heads from the soil.
Usually by the time May long weekend arrives each spring I'm in garden-panic-mode.