One Last Day in May

I'm barely slipping under the clock with this last May post. In most of the world it's already June. Outside my window a line of cloud-streaked light fills the sky, creating a silhouette of the trees. There's a bit of wind seen as one branch of a near lilac tree waves back and forth.

Peonies are my delight in the garden just now. The various bushes bloom at different times, prolonging the season. These creamy white Duchesse de Nemours are nearly finished, but how beautiful they've been. 

The bees are mad for chive blossoms. I counted at least six varieties of bees hard at work one sunny evening. 

Foxgloves, roses, and Lady's Mantle meld together in a fine trio against the hedge. The foxgloves are taller than I can remember, towering far above my head. 

Here Gertrude Jekyll seems to be whispering something to the foxglove. I wonder what secrets flowers would tell. Only the very nicest, I'm certain. 

I mentioned that my parents were celebrating their 70th wedding anniversary in my previous post. Here they are in May 1955. When I show the photo, people often comment on how lovely Mom's dress is. I agree, but Mom tells me it wasn't the one she would have chosen. Her father and stepmother chose it for her. 

Several years ago Mom donated her dress to an organization that makes gowns for stillbirth babies. 

And here they are after 70 years. Still in love, still smiling. Marriage isn't always easy, but they've stuck together through thick and thin, committed to each other and to God. My siblings and I are so thankful to have them.

One last peony image for this post. We made a quick trip to the mainland to celebrate with Mom and Dad, taking them out for lunch, having a special cake, and a short photo session. Just eight of us - my parents, my siblings and I, and our spouses. 

Today I've puttered in the garden, including cutting this bouquet of peonies. There were just a few white buds left, so I included them along with the pink ones. 

May has been such a lovely month with plenty of sunshine and some much-needed rain, making it perfect for getting the vegetable garden in. Last night after arriving home I went out to see three pole bean seeds barely poking through the dirt. This morning they are unfurling their first seed leaves. So much fun to watch. 

"And then, one fairy night, 

May became June."

F. Scott Fitzgerald

Gardens in May

 

Spring is slowly giving way to summer, but not without intermittent regressions. This morning's view from my window is of soft grey clouds with a band of pale blue, then one of puffy clouds and mist trailing in the hills beyond. Rain fell during the night and the new deck surface my husband is working on is shiny wet.

I'm harvesting radishes and lettuce from the garden, also rhubarb and plenty of herbs - oregano, thyme, and chives. A few moments were spent in the sunshine yesterday watching a dozen fat bees of busy amongst the purple chive flowers. Blooms on the pea plants mean that we'll soon be eating peas. The youngest grandchildren were here and found a handful of ripe strawberries to nibble on. How I love this month when the garden bursts with life. 

Foxgloves self-seed and this group chose a wonderful spot, in the back of the flower bed against the fence. There's a feverfew plant visiting with them, and columbines adding to the party. All grew without my interference. Well done, self-seeders!

I took myself to Butchart Gardens early last week and walked under the laburnum arches that mark the entrance from the parking lot. A canopy of golden rain. 

Himalayan Blue Poppies (meconopsis baileyi) were at their peak, with their translucent petals. Butchart Gardens does not have plant labels other than in the rose garden, but gives visitors a plant guide for each season. There are many tourists in the gardens now, with buses filling the parking lot. I heard many questions with people wondering what this or that plant is, along with oohs and ahhs at the beautiful displays. 

The Sunken Garden is one of the showpieces, created when Jenny Butchart, had the vision to beautify the limestone rock quarry emptied by her husband's business in the early 1900s. The story is told of visitors stopping by the property to see the gardens, and being served tea by Mrs. Butchart until the crowds became so great that the family began charging people. The original house is now used as a tea room and restaurant. Butchart Gardens is still owned by the family, and has been designated a National Historic Site of Canada. 

Back in my own very modest garden the roses are beginning to bloom, starting with fragrant Gertrude Jekyll. Peonies, too, and with the rain last night, the white Duchesse de Nemours blossoms are nodding towards the ground. 

For Mother's Day last week, I gave the mothers of my grandchildren a watercolour sketch done from a couple of photos. It was a fun project. I have been inspired by Monique who paints lovely simple images. She also shares them on her Instagram page. 

This week we will be making a short trip to the mainland to celebrate my parents' 70th wedding anniversary. It's a simple celebration with just them and my siblings and spouses. I am so thankful for their love throughout the years. So, there are things to prepare this week and I had better get to it. 

Friday Favourites: A Week in May

 

I still find each day too short for all the thoughts I want to 

think, all the walks I want to take, all the books I want to read

and all the friends I want to see.

John Burroughs

Halfway through May. The days slip by, full of ordinary things. A friend took me on a tour around her new property. I used the Seek App on my phone to identify many unknown plants including the Leopard's Bane (doronicum) above. The bright yellow patch of flowers underplanted with bluebells is so pretty. 

My husband loves cycling. He rides for pleasure, but also to run errands. I find cycling enjoyable on flat ground. Hills and I do not get along at all. And to go anywhere from our house requires descending a short, steep hill, which means ascending on the way home. Yesterday friends invited us to go for a bike ride using their electric bikes. I was skeptical and dreading the outing. I soon got the hang of it, though, and found myself zooming UP hills. It was so much fun. Perhaps an electric bike is in my future, but there's more thinking to do first. 

On Tuesday Cora and I went to the park and around the pond. No baby ducks yet. We played a few rounds of hide and seek in the forest, and she posed on a tree trunk just made for sitting. I'm certain that she walked twice the distance I did with all her running ahead and then back.

We've enjoyed beautiful sunshine for many days. On a morning walk many things vied for my attention. Here are a few of them:

Himalayan Clematis

Birdsong in every tree

Swaths of Camas Lilies in the woods, dark blue with 

gold-tipped stamens

Creamy Pacific Dogwood blooms

Masses of horsetail in some new landscaping - a real nuisance,

but feathery green and soft just now

An elderly woman bundled in a heavy hooded jacket 

with her walker slowly moving along the street

A patch of Irises in half sun, half shade

A single weathered Adirondack chair sitting in a patch

of sunlight

Fawn Lilies all but disappeared now other than their

spotted leaves

Bellis Daisies against the taller stems of Camas Lilies

The wide smile of a young boy biking to school

Infinite shades of green leaves

The blue skies and warm sunshine have disappeared in the past two days, replaced by a sharp wind off the Pacific, and drizzle today. We need the rain, so I won't complain. Sweater weather again. 

I've thought about these Poet's Narcissus that I saw on our recent boating trip, wondering who planted them there in a grassy meadow overlooking the sea. Perhaps a woman longed to create spots of beauty in her life isolated from society. Her house is abandoned and falling apart, but still her flowers bloom, testament to her existence. Of the dock where she once arrived only two cement pilings remain.

My extravagance is my garden - it's the first

thing I look at every morning when I

wake up. It gives me so much pleasure.

Ina Garten

One peony plant has bloomed and the others have many buds on them. I'm eager to see them open, along with the roses. I made a sad observation to Tim the other day, admitting to myself that I don't have room for any more permanent plants in my garden. Instead, I'll content myself arranging pots of annuals and enjoy the shrubs and perennials as they come. 

Wishing you a delightful weekend.

Friday Favourites: Pretty Little Things

 

The world's favourite season is spring.

All things seem possible in May.

Edwin Way Teale (American naturalist and writer)

May is fully upon us and life springs up in every corner. I feel invigorated by the increasing light and warmth. Just a few weeks ago, a single bloom in the garden was noteworthy; now a plethora of colour and form greets me upon each garden visit, all appreciated. Sweetly scented wisteria perfumes the air and I catch bits of fragrance from across the garden. Lilac flowers are fading quickly and have been outstanding this year, in quantity, colour, and scent.

I planted two pots of tulips last fall, neatly covering them with netting to keep out the squirrels and raccoons. The bulbs were purchased as a set, dark and light bulbs - Joyful Dreams. They are beautiful, but differ greatly in height, not quite the look I was going for. Nature often surprises. 

Sea glass collected on recent beach walks. I'm always pleased to add to my collection. I am particularly fond of the pale blue and turquoise pieces, as well as the clouded white ones. Little bits of loveliness made beautiful by the process of time, waves, and sand. There's a lesson there, reminding me that beauty is not a matter of youth and fashion, but of strength of character and of a way of looking at the world with hope and optimism.

 

Rhubarb is flourishing in the garden and that means Rhubarb Cake. Rather than bake it in a rectangular pan, I made cupcakes. Most of them go into the freezer for my husband to pull out when he wants one. I eat one the first day, slightly warm, and then I'm not tempted by the rest. 

New loafers provide a spring in my step. Easy to slip into and comfortable to wear throughout the day for walks or errands. Soft leather and padded soles mean a lot these days. 

It's always exciting to anticipate a parcel in the mail. Particularly when one doesn't know exactly what's arriving. I ordered a subscription from The Bundle Bee Bindery. Unwrapping the pretty hand-bound notebook, an artist's print, and other bits and pieces was so much fun. The journal on the left was purchased at a local store purely because of the cover with its dainty flowers. 

Last but not least, I cut the first bouquet of roses yesterday. This unknown variety never lasts long in the house, but is faintly fragrant and always the first to bloom. 

This post was composed over a few days, in between gardening and laundry, a few appointments, and making pizza for dinner. Friday nights seem to call for pizza or tacos or another simple meal - a leftover habit from when we had children at home. Although days are much the same now, I still enjoy doing things that define the weeks and days. 

Wishing you a weekend filled with pretty little things around you. 

Friday Favourite: A Short Boating Trip

 

The weather forecast said sunny. Winds light. We packed our gear and enough food for three days and chugged off to Cabbage and Tumbo Islands. Solitude, our boat, hasn't been used much in the past few years - there was the driving trip to the Arctic Ocean one summer followed by a trip across Canada the next, and last year we went to Europe. This year we are staying closer to home and making an effort to use the boat. 

Doesn't the scene above look tropical? The water is very cold; less than 10 degrees Celsius, so no swimming for us. 

There is a lovely hiking trail on Tumbo Island, through the forest, alongside a marshy wetland, and by an old farm where buildings and rusting equipment lie drowsing in the sun. From the trail I took a photo of our boat, 25 feet, and just enough room for the two of us.

Two pairs of bald eagles provided entertainment. They swooped overhead, sometimes with small prey in their claws. Here the larger female is perched high while the male is down in the nest. We couldn't tell if there were young there or not. A few years ago we did see eaglets in this same nest. 

Oystercatchers in the evening light allowed our kayaks to approach quite close. 

Gulls of several varieties rose up in the air, swirling above us in our kayaks, filling the air with harsh screeching. I was thinking about gulls' penchant for leaving behind droppings everywhere and hoping my head wasn't a target. Luckily, we both escaped the indignity. 

Back on Solitude we watched the colours of sunset intensify and then fade into darkness before settling down to sleep on calm seas.

Home now. Unpacking and a few errands this afternoon. The wind has picked up and a bit of rain fell. I hope to spend time in the garden over the weekend. Now that May is here, everything grows much faster, including the weeds. 

Friday Favourites

 

The perfume of the lilacs came in little 

puffs on the crystal air.

L. M. Montgomery (Magic for Marigold)

This evening the scent of lilacs wafts from the dining room table. We have three lilac bushes and sadly, one is coming out tomorrow to make room for the patio expansion. So I am cutting blooms with abandon. Pounding the woody stems with a hammer seems to make them last longer in vases. 

Days filled with sunshine and a few puffy clouds make Spring delightful. I love this weather, but we do need some rain as the ground is already quite dry.

I still find each day too short for all the thoughts

I want to think, all the walks I want to take,

all the books I want to read,

and all the friends I want to see.

John Burroughs

Clouds of blue forget-me-nots fill the ground beneath the rose bushes that have transformed from bare sticks to full leaf. A few tiny buds appear - a promise for the weeks to come. Red tulips are almost over, but there are more in other spots. 

I'm spending lots of time in the garden, moving some plants, weeding, and looking at everything with a more critical eye than usual as I try to bring to life my vision for this space. 

Adults follow paths. Children explore. Adults are content

to walk the same way hundreds of times, or thousands; 

perhaps it never occurs to adults to step off the paths,

to creep beneath rhododendrons, to find

the spaces between fences.

Neil Gaiman

Our one rhododendron is filled with showy blooms holding gold-tipped stamens. They are very pretty when looked at individually, but I find the mass of them a wee bit overpowering. I didn't find any children under the rhododendron, but I did find a large yellow tulip, one that I never planted. Did a squirrel bring it from a neighbour's garden hoping to nibble on it in the winter and then forgot all about it?

Go out, go out I beg of you

and taste the beauty of the wild.

Behold the miracle of the earth

with all the wonder of a child.

Edna Jaques

I've enjoyed some lovely books recently. Sometimes it seems like my book choices are rather mundane, enjoyable but not memorable, and then I choose others whose characters and story lines I turn over and over in my mind. 

The Enchanted April

A comforting re-read. Who wouldn't love to escape to Italy for a 

month in the sun and find one's self transformed?

The Comfort of Crows

Margaret Renkl

Essays on ageing, gardening, the wild natural world. Renkl writes
"The world will always be beautiful to those who look for beauty. Throats will always catch when the fleeing clouds part fleetingly and the golden moon flashes into existence and then winks out again."

A Killer in King's Cove

Iona Wishaw

A new-to-me writer with a number of books I'm looking forward to reading featuring Lane Winslow, a young British woman who moves to rural Canada shortly after WWII and becomes embroiled in solving murders. 

Go out, go out I beg of you

and taste the beauty of the wild.

Behold the miracle of the earth

with all the wonder of a child.

Edna Jaques

Apple blossoms are the prettiest things. I look down on them every morning from my bedroom window. Last year we had very few apples and I'm hoping this year will produce more of them. 

These days are full of many things, but not overly busy. Every day I go out to inspect my garden, to see what's coming into bloom and what's finished. Lettuce, spinach, and peas are growing nicely in the potager. Tomato plants are thriving in the greenhouse. It's simply a wonderful time of year. 

Sending wishes for a beautiful weekend.

Easter Monday

 

Easter Monday. A quiet morning here. Puffy grey clouds move slowly across the sky. Hopefully the bright spot on the horizon will expand as the day goes by.

I dyed eggs last week with the help of young Cora. We used natural dyes made from red cabbage, blueberries, yellow onion skins, and dried marigold flowers. I use much the same materials each year and am always surprised at how different the results are. 

 

Paska buns. An Easter tradition from my Ukrainian Mennonite heritage. The real tradition is to bake them in loaves, but I prefer the buns. Easier to divide and give to family and friends, and as my husband says, the icing to bread ratio is better. 

I sometimes wonder from where traditions like these arise. Because this dough is light and uses a lot of eggs, I think it was first baked at Easter when the hens began laying again, and the strictures of Lent were loosened. 

From a recent walk. Steps set into the side of the hill invite me to walk in and further up. The woods are rich with green and dotted with flowers. 

Salmonberry (Rubus spectabilis) blooms promise small, pale orange and slightly sweet berries in summertime. Native to North America, I don't believe they are cultivated, but only found in the wilk. I find them a bit mealy and am happy to leave them for the bears who love them. 

We gathered with our family yesterday, and the parents of our daughter-in-law. Fifteen of us. There was an egg hunt outdoors, lots of fun and games indoors, and a dinner made special by the faces around the table. And pie. Four kinds of pie. All delicious. All cut into very small pieces to enable sampling. 

Easter is joy, hope, love, and renewal.

Easter is proof that we can begin again.

Richelle E. Goodrich

The Forest in Spring

 

Spring has never been a favourite season. Too capricious, and rather deceptive. The bright sunshine on my head warms me, but the sharp wind off the ocean drives to the bone. However, I am beginning to like Spring more and more. I love the colours after a winter of brown and green, and the way life springs in every corner.

Come to the woods, for here is rest.

There is no repose like that of the deep green woods.

Sleep in forgetfulness of all ill.

John Muir

Tim and I took a few days away camping in our trailer/caravan about midway up Vancouver Island. All around our site, low to the forest floor, bloomed hundreds of pink Fawn Lilies (erythronium revoltum). It's generally the pale white ones I see here, so to be surrounded by the pink variety was such a treat. I recently learned that they are categorized separately with the white ones labeled erythronium oregonum. They were everywhere on our hikes, pink stars against the green. 

And then there were the Western Trilliums (trillium ovatum), less prolific, growing singly or in clumps of two or three. The Western Trillium takes 15 years before blooming, and if the flowers are picked, the process must begin again. Their season is short, and has almost finished, so I was glad to see so many. 

Forests are like churches, hallowed places.

There is a stillness about them,

a sort of reverence.

Sabrina Elkins

Beavers are so effective at their work, reclaiming abandoned fields with their dams. Beyond the beaver house in the photo the land is mostly dry, but the line of the dam creates a pool for fishing and swimming. My husband's grandparents once owned a farm further north, and after they passed, the fields were neglected and the beavers moved in, creating wetlands that support many species. 

Western Skunk Cabbage  (lysichiton americanus) 

If you walk in the woods, you might start to smell something rather odd. Some liken it to marijuana, but most find it reminds them of skunk scent. Then you see it, a bright yellow plant growing in swamps and damp patches in the forest. The flowers are on the tall stalk protected by the showy curved spadix. 

A patch this large can throw off quite a strong scent, attracting insects and pollinators. 

As is the case with many camping trips, there was one very rainy day. After a cozy and leisurely breakfast we explored in our vehicle rather than on foot, driving to the end of the Muchalat Inlet, just past the small town of Gold River. Enroute, waterfall after waterfall gushed from the steep canyon walls down beside the roadway. The falls seen above left passed under the road into the river below via a large culvert. 

And here is a video of the top of the falls. How noisy it was. 

Another noisy sound was this Red-breasted Sapsucker tapping furiously on a metal sign. They do this, not for food, but to communicate and establish boundaries. Perhaps, being Spring, this bird was looking for a mate. 

We've been home again for a few days, catching up on the tasks of everyday life. I'll leave you with one more image of one of the shy wonders of the forest, elegant and short-lived, but so admired.