I give up (or, Return of the Destructo-Bot)

Last night, a friend of mine asked, "So, I guess that catnip has been completely destroyed, huh?"

"No," I blithely replied. "Actually, it still has some little green leaves. I transplanted it into the ground today and hopefully it will be okay."

Well, apparently the universe disagreed.


We woke up this morning to find that something had ripped the catnip out of the ground. Seriously, this is what it looked like when we found it. Dug up, ripped out, roots exposed to the wind and rain. Honestly, it doesn't get any more violent than this (not in gardening, anyway).

And, so. I give up, I wave the white flag, I ... whatever. The neighbourhood cats can eat my bleeding-hearts instead. Those are poisonous.

yet another post about gardening

This is what French tarragon looks like:


Last weekend, I asked a foodie friend for recommendations on which herbs to add to my strawberry pot (I currently have basil, thyme, and oregano). He said that he had one in mind, but couldn't remember the name. He kept trying to give us clues: it's French. You use it in scrambled eggs. It has flat leaves. Until, finally, we ended the discussion with the following exchange:

Him: Remember, at the cottage, I made this cream sauce with the steak?
Me: Tarragon?
Him: Yes! Tarragon!
Me: It's a herb?
Another friend: It's French?
Him (slightly exasperated): YES!

So, there you go. Tarragon is both a herb and French, and there is some currently on my window sill. I think the take-away from this is that I am much more interested in the eating part of my herbs than I am in the provenance. (Although, ornamentation also has its place: I want to get some red basil not because I am particularly fond of basil — I'm not — but because it's just so gosh-darned pretty.)

Meanwhile, the tomatoes have sprouted teeny tinny sprouts. The toilet paper tubes I was using as planters grew mold (look: they said to keep the darn things humid), so I took them out of the sunroom and put them by the garbage to toss into the green bin. I left them there for a day or two, and then I checked and ... they had sprouted more than an inch. I didn't want to keep them in their moldy wrappings (I had assumed that they were dead), and I didn't have time to repot them, so I did this:


Disposable muffin wrappers.

Obviously it's not a long-term solution, but I've since put them into a small pot and they seem to be fine. I'm just a bit cavalier because I didn't actually expect all four to sprout; I really only need one tomato plant. Maybe two. So if one of these dies ... *does my best impression of a Gallic shrug*

I think this means I am getting slightly less uptight about this whole gardening process. There's nothing like killing a whole strawberry plant on your first pass to give you a sense of laissez-faire.

Oh! Except that I didn't kill the strawberries! It turns out they have mold, not damping off, and that can be recovered from (as soon as I have time to take out the mold and the first few inches of soil — see what I mean about cavalier?). So now I have more strawberries — having bought a replacement for the now-not-dying plant. It's hard for me to see a downside to this.

Meanwhile, the outdoor garden is in full swing:


The roses have started to bloom...


And we are a go for the tulips.

compendium

I have a whole backlog of photographs of what we've been up to for the past two or three weeks, which all of my gardening posts keep pre-empting. So here it is: a big update on what we've been doing with our ample free time, now that the renovations are done:*
*That was sarcasm, by the way.

Going to the farmer's markets at the St Lawrence on Saturdays:


It's really lovely to be able to eat almost entirely local and/or organic vegetables again, and to do it without too much thought. (We buy the vegetables weekly, and we eat what's in the fridge. Very little thought needed.)

When we've not been eating at home, oddly enough, we've been eating Asian fast food:


This is Korean bbq (yum), but in the past ten days we've also had ramen, pho and sushi (twice). They've opened up an Ajisen outpost on Spadina between College and Dundas, which is dangerous but oh-so-good.

I find it kind of strange, though, that a lot of Asian fast food places are getting kind of posh:

I sort of want to tell them that I don't mind bland white utilitarian décore when I'm only spending $15 for all-you-can-eat, plus drinks.

Part of the reason there's been so much Asian fast food is that we've started climbing again, and the tradition is to go out to eat afterwards. Pd's back to doing the roof:


And I'm back to pretending I don't know how to lead climb so I don't have to do it. We're not at our best (at least, I'm not), but it's not as excruciatingly humiliating as it was when we first got back.

I've also been knitting:


The Super Secret Deadline knitting is done (and has been for close to a month now, I think), but I haven't gifted it yet, so no pictures until the recipient has it. The one above is a Véronique from French Girl Knits (Rav link), and it's actually finished now. I don't have anything currently on the needles because all of the projects I want to start require buying yarn, and I am waiting until the Knitters' Frolic to go on a little spree.

And, on nice weekends when we're not too busy (so, not last weekend), we've been going for long walks to the beach. Literally:


This is Kew Gardens, which links up to the boardwalk and Beaches Park. This was Saturday before last, I think, when it was stupendously warm and everyone was out. It turns out that we are only perhaps 15 minutes away from Ashbridges Bay/Woodbine Beach and about the same distance from Queen East and the Beach (if we cut the corner), and we plan on taking outrageous advantage of this when summer comes.

well, THAT didn't last long

Okay, so much for strawberry greediness. I discovered a small patch of damping off this morning, which means that, while the plant is still green and happy-looking, it's only a matter of time.

(It's very small, I caught it early, but they don't give you points for catching it early, as there's no cure. You just get to agonize that much longer, instead.)

Feck.

slightly less drug raid, slightly more fail

Oh, and I almost forgot: here's an update on the catnip-mauling interloper situation:


It, uh, came back.

I put it upright on Monday morning and left for work, and when I got home on Monday evening, it was (once again) on its side and had somehow lost all of its leaves. Poor little thing.

It is now living on the ledge of the window on my front porch, on the theory that it is a) better lit, b) faces the street, and c) off the ground. So far the Mystery Mauler has left it alone, but that might be because there is really nothing left to maul.

I still have hopes. There are itty-bitty little leaves sprouting near the crown that didn't get crushed, and the roots are still good. I've read that catnip is not only tough, but aggressive. It should grow back. Eventually. Possibly. Maybe?

mostly I am doing this because I am greedy for strawberries.

I am a little behind in my posts. I was going to tell you what I did this weekend, and then I held off — partially because the Catnip saga rather pre-empted everything, and partially because I am not entirely convinced that all of the work I did won't up and die on me tomorrow, and won't I look like a fool then?

But they seem to be doing okay — the strawberry plant has some dead leaves in the middle but, then again, it came that way — everything is still reasonably green and not dead-looking. Fingers are still crossed, but maybe less emphatically so.

Onwards. I mentioned the strawberry plant.


Part of my haul from Sheridan Nurseries. (The other parts are some seeds, and the catnip.) It's an ever-bearing. They "guarantee" 25 strawberries per plant. I am not really sure what the last part means.


The strawberry plants, spread out on the table. The soil they used was not great, and some of the plants were already drying out and dying — so I removed the dead leaves, etc., as best I could and dumped it into the terracotta pot.

("Dumped." It took me the better part of forty-five minutes.)


As I said, it seems to be doing well. It doesn't look much different from this, and I think actually that it may have more leaves. I know that terracotta isn't always the best because it sucks water out, but strawberries need good drainage and I figure this way I have less of a chance of over-watering.

I also bought some herbs from the St Lawrence market:


Thyme, oregano, and basil. I didn't mean to organise them by height, but there you go.


I repotted them into a giant strawberry pot, a la Gayla Trail. I am also germinating some garlic chives in one of the "empty" holes. I mean to pick up some rosemary, some sage, and transplant the bunching onions once they've sprouted.

I know, I know — why didn't I put the strawberry plant into the strawberry pot? Well, I only had one. (I guess I could have bought another, but I wasn't sure if it was going to work out, and it wasn't terribly inexpensive. And I am not entirely sure about that green.) The reason is, I don't actually want to grow that many herbs, so the small holes in the strawberry pot are perfect for the amount I want. And this way I can haul the whole kit and caboodle back inside when it gets cold, instead of fiddling with a big planter or a series of little pots.

I started some seeds:


Which is really not terribly impressive. They haven't started sprouting yet (germination takes 8 to 12 days), so I have no idea if I was successful. Two of these are tomatoes (Amish paste), and two are bunching onions. I really only need one tomato plant, but I thought I'd hedge my bets a little.

And finally, remember the African violet? The one I was afraid I was going to kill within 24 hours? Well, three weeks later:


Not only is it thriving, but I think I may need to repot it so that it can continue taking over my kitchen.

drug raid

Originally, I had planned a post about gardening — we went to Sheridan Nurseries on Saturday (a friend made the mistake of mentioning that it was practically next door to another friend), and I bought plants, and soil, and transplanted things. And it was good.

Now, I am still going to post about gardening, but it is less good:


This used to be a happy catnip.

Last week, while we were doing our recycling and things in the backyard, both of the cats looked like they were tempted to run outside (and then one of them did). So I decided that I would plant some catnip after all, to lure them to a specific spot outside if they ever escape. (A friend of mine swears by this for her cat.)

Now, both of our cats are obsessed by catnip. We bought one of those little fleecy toys that are stuffed with dried catnip at the One of A Kind Show, and they just about destroyed the plastic bag (and shoved hard cover books off the table) in order to get to it. So, after buying the plant, I decided to put it outside so that it wouldn't be mauled by our cats.

Well. I'm fairly certain that it wasn't mauled by our cats. Unless they've figured out the door lock mechanism (and then we're in much bigger trouble than catnip destruction.)

I checked on it yesterday. I did not take any pictures because I didn't think anyone would be interested in a picture of catnip, but take my word for it: it was a happy plant. It had already straightened out (it had been a bit bent from the nursery) to maybe 8 or 10 inches high, and had a lot of healthy, green foliage. It liked being in my garden.

This morning, I looked out the window and couldn't see it, so I went outside and found it dashed on its side, about a foot away from its perch, and shredded leaves all around. Almost all of the leaves have been torn off the plant and, as you can see, most of the stems have been broken, too. Even the little ones near the crown look trampled.

As Pd put it when I texted him in woe this morning: "Wow. Somewhere in our neighbourhood is a very stoned cat."

apparently things bloom on their own. who knew?

The weather has been very, very dreary since the holiday ended, which is a very fair and fine price to pay for that spectacular weekend. I think the garden thinks so, too, because it is doing just fine without any interference on my part.

(These photographs were taken on Monday, which is why it is sunny and not, you know, dreary.)


The green that is everywhere that I thought were maybe chives, and then changed my mind? Are chives. Pd plucked some and tasted them. Definitely chives.


The shrubs which I am almost certain are forsythia are blooming (there's another, smaller bush at the front of the house) even more than this; after yesterday's rain they're bushels of bright, shiny yellow.


The rhubarb continues to look more rhubarb-y by the day, and have already been promised to a friend with a mania for strawberry-rhubarb pies.

Speaking of which, I have yet to find any strawberry plants (I think it may be too early in the season), but I have started my own preparations:


I think I may be a little bit in love with Urban Harvest, and am sad that their nursery storefront has closed.

Meanwhile, the African violet continues to be alive. It's even blooming. (It's probably a sympathetic response.)

Dude.

We had a lovely Easter weekend! As did everybody in Toronto, I think. You couldn't have a bad weekend, not with a three- (or four-)day holiday and all that sunshine. The universe simply wouldn't have allowed it.

Granted, our weekend was made infinitely better by something we discovered on our back porch. Or rather, something missing from our back porch. Let me explain. On Friday morning, our back porch was covered with all of the construction and demolition debris that had piled up since our last dump run (in February). It was, to say the least, a giant mess.

On Friday afternoon, our back porch looked like this:


It turned out that the roofers working next door were so grateful that we gave them permission to drop debris into our alley (apparently, lots of people don't), that they went and hauled all of our crap away for us. (We confirmed this with our neighbours later.) We assume they were using the pile to put their crap onto, too, which is fair, because — dude. Dude.

You should have seen us when we realised that all the crap was gone. We were literally giddy from the glee.

...
It's been a little while since I blogged anything about the renovations (mostly because most of the stuff that's left are small, little things, and unpacking), but this weekend we finally put in the last big thing that was waiting.


The glass for the shower. We didn't have brackets for it, so we braced it with what used to be parts of our cheap Ikea shoe rack (I'm sure you know the one — they're everywhere), applied the silicone adhesive, and waited for it to dry. We have to put more silicone on — mostly for aesthetic purposes; the glass is secure enough as-is — and re-install the shower faucet (we took it off so Pd could seal the grout and caulk the tile) and ... that's it. The bathroom's done.

At the risk of repeating myself — dude.

...
And finally: after four days of careful observation, I have concluded that this is what the cats do every single afternoon, between 1 and 5 o'clock:


Apparently it's a very hard life, being my cat.