My Best Unplanned Crop

See that? It's horseradish and it flourishes with no effort on my part. I first planted a root in my last garden two miles away and the location was perfect--close to the back door and blocked in by the pool. By sheer luck and ignorance it was contained and couldn't possibly wander off.

After I moved on to this new place, I tucked a nice root in the back corner of the garden but--but--there should have been a steel barrier installed underground at least seventy feet deep, to keep it in place.



I can't live without a grand supply of home-made horseradish sauce it but I wasn't counting on the huge leaves and god-knows-what's growing-underground taking over the entire garden and it probably has its sights on every other garden in town.

The pungent aroma and taste tends to thoroughly clean out your sinuses, let alone anything else above the eyebrows not thoroughly fastened in place, but it's worth it.

If only it would stay put.

If I ever move again, I'll plant it in a steel drum; with luck and effort on the part of the drum, it will be contained.

But, ah, the sauce.

Garden Kitch

My weather vane has been through four moves with me. He has circled his domain from the third floor deck of a downtown century house in Toronto, atop a post attached to an above- ground pool in Waterloo, perched on a rod inserted in an old tree stump in Kitchener and now, from the shed roof in Waterloo. He is a reminder to me of the life that was with Hal.



Angel looked every bit the part until the it had an altercation with a garden rake. I was unsuccessful at mending it so it tries to behave angelically in two parts.


Not entirely successful since that head takes on a menacing face don't you think? It reminds me of "The Omen."


My cats are living elsewhere now but I have this in their memory.


The antiques sign is a newer find and it amuses me that we continue to hang in there together.
I use it as a snow marker in the winter.




Somewhere out there is more kitch just waiting for me.

My Storm Was Bigger Than Your Storm

Forgive my silly title but we are all brimming with tales of our most recent storms and this is mine.

We were alerted yesterday that a tornado-strength storm was on the way and as news dribbled in I realized my daughter lived on the storm path and that was foremost in my mind.

We're still shaken from the news that the nearby town of Goderich was savaged by a tornado on the weekend and now it might be our turn.

In the early evening rumbles of thunder and lightning flashes lit the sky.

Shortly after a ribbon message at the bottom of the TV screen warned people south of us to take cover.

The storm hit us; the thunder and lightning was violent and lasted for hours; sheet lightning, forked lightning, we had it all.


This picture was taken by an unidentified photographer in Toronto.

It was the kind of storm that made me ache to take my grown children in my arms and tell them how much I love them.

All in all, a dramatic time.

So this morning I looked out the window and everything seemed normal. I turned on the radio and they were discussing Libya.

I know there was a storm. I saw the storm.
Was I dreaming?



On my morning walk the sky looked like this--a little uncertain but stable.
I E-mailed my two local sons--are you okay?

Both replied virtually the same way, "Well, duh." Apparently I took the storm more seriously but they had company and I didn't.

My daughter reported she prudently spent part of the night in the basement so she was impressed with the storm.



I took this shot in the late morning. It's just an uneasy sort of day.

Now I know why last night's storm wasn't in the news first thing this morning: it happened at night and the storm specialists don't know how to grade it until daylight and they can see the damage.
One city south of us might have been hit hardest and in a lot of places trees were uprooted and there were power outages.



The hail stones were this size south of us.

Next time there is a warning of this kind I'm high-tailing it to the home of the nearest son, then I can be calm and collected while all hell breaks loose.

What's With the Roses Aiming Sideways?

If my rose canes continue to inch sideways instead of straight up I may be inspired to write "The Mystery of the Deadly Wandering Tendrils." Or--- I might just tie up the canes and get on with life.

I don't know whether it was the new brick carpet installed above their roots but now they really like to spread out at a ninety-degree angle and that isn't what I had in mind.

They have such pleasant surroundings with the brick I thought they'd continue heading up the arch as usual and I'd just clip the blooms at each end.

Their personal preference is to bloom at the very top of the arch and clipping them would require a six-foot step ladder and determination.


Making the correction takes a little planning and preparation.
It's always loads of fun wrestling them into an upright position and maneuvering twist ties around the thorns while hampered by critically needed garden gloves .


Voila. They are having a blooming sabbatical right now but there will be more color shortly.


Look at that--four perfect roses peeking out from those crazy branches. And at pick-able level too.

They make it all worth while.

My Vine Must Be On Steroids

This is my china berry vine today. Soon the berries will turn porcelain white with a mystical purple aura.

Just don't get the idea this is a sweet, delicate little vine. No indeed.

I brought it home as an impulse buy from a nursery three years ago and read up on it.

Words like "vociferous grower" and "hard-to-manage" popped up time and again.
I figured a spoil-sport wrote that because my sweet vine grew in a stately, almost languid manner.

Until this year.

This year despite a drought that sent plants into early pack- it- in for the season mode, my vine decided to try for the marathon; any marathon as long as it meant breaking world records.



My plan was was that the honeysuckle would grow at one end with its blooming time earlier in the summer and when it faded the china berry would take over at the other end.
And take over it did. This year my once- polite vine sprinted over the archway, shimmied down a trellis and across a window.



I'm thinking of alerting the next door neighbors that it's heading their way.

I'll let it have its fun for now and next spring, we'll see if the honeysuckle is just as tough. They can duke it out.

This is why gardeners never have the last word.

End-Of-Summer Performers

Passing birds dropped sunflower seeds in the planter. Good aim. Lovely effect.


The Pee gee Hydrangea is slowly coming into bloom. funny, I used to dislike this type and now it's a favorite.



The yellow raspberries are beginning their second crop; I'll freeze this batch and bring them out on a snowy evening--to remind me that winter is merely part of the cycle and we'll get to the growing season before long.



The peaches are growing nicely under the netting but I've got to think that removing that netting will be an adventure.

You know, it would be just fine with me if we had a really, really long summer/fall.

Aw's' Trip To the Driver's Center

Aw finally went for her written driver's test. I'm not sure why it took her so long unless she wanted to improve her language skills first.

At the center we stood in line like quiet sheep until it was her turn; she handed over forms, duplicate forms, passport,copy of her Thai license, all that stuff.

The nice lady at the counter said there was one stamp missing on one duplicate form so we had to drive back to the multicultural center where we had started, and pay another five dollars so they could correct their mistake.

Back to the drivers test centre and back in line.

A little progress; this time the papers were in order, she was handed another number and we sat until she was called to the counter. The person presiding at this next counter was seriously uptight and I am presuming his skivvies were too tight.

The counter was so high she had to stand on tip- toe to sign more forms and take her required eye test. After that Mr.Up-Tight gave her another number and again we sat.

For diversion we watched people emerge from the test area; most were elated but there were a few dejected ones.
Aw's turn came and she disappeared behind the screened area for half an hour.

She aced her written test and received her temporary license so we happily drove off to lunch before it occurred to us that we weren't sure what to do next.



We're practical; first we tackled the food and then we returned to the driving centre, had another wait in line and then the nice lady booked the road test.

I'm not worried about that test. Frankly, anyone who learned to drive in Bangkok (population somewhere in the area of ten to twenty million (seriously) can handle driving in a nice little city like Kitchener(population 200,000 and change).

Stay tuned.

Late Bloomers

Hippo looks pleased with the blooms sprouting behind him. I guess it's better than having a monkey on his back. (what on earth have I been reading lately?)
I've been harvesting petunia seeds for years and at first the color varied and now they're this two-tone and I like the effect.



So far one morning glory has pushed through the dry soil; the mirror helps with the more-is-better factor.

The reflection also clearly demonstrates that the raised bed needs a lot more more soil and mulch; before winter sets in, I'll begin supplementing.
I'll have to find a willing person with muscles to tote the bags from the front driveway over to the side and up some stairs, across the deck,down the stairs and across to the back of the garden.

It's not that I can't find a generous soul to help-it's just that there are so many pokey things like that and I have to prioritize or the family will run in the other direction when I ask, "How busy are you?"

This is where we envision sweet perky little grandma whipping up a yummy apple pie as a thank you. Gee, I wish. My pies are sometimes fabulous and then there are the other times.
Come to think of it, I make gorgeous Yorkshire pudding, most of the time.

Saturday Nights

Saturday night is family dinner night at my place. It's flexible--come if you're in the mood, bring a meal contribution if you wish and everyone kick back.

The architect of these evenings, going on for around four years now, is #3 son, the one on the right wearing his goofy look. Actually the hall mirror reflects two goofy looks.

He moved here from Alberta around five years ago to re-connect with family and at first we had barbecues on the deck, just the two of us; soon we were joined by his bride. More local family members joined in and occasionally out-of-town members drop by to make sure they don't miss anything.
This is pure gold to a mother's heart.



This was one of those iffy rain-threatning nights so I decided to do the cooking indoors. When it's on the barbecue, one of the others takes over the grill.

On this night it will be oriental flavored pulled pork on toasted buns with crunchy salad and a light dessert. Super simple for a summer evening. The pork went into the crock pot at seven in the morning and the major part of the work was done.



There's always a word or board game ready for later--mostly we talk politics, resolve world or family issues or settle in to watch a movie.



See that clump of items on the shelf to the right, in front of the cow? That's my to-do stuff. A little sneaky I admit, but family is all here and there are some things I can't manage so it's stop and fix it time. Usually it'll all over within ten minutes.

Tonight it's change a watch battery (I couldn't open the case), take the lethal cork screw out of the bottle top opener, move the couch a few inches from the wall (that way I can vacuum behind the couches and it's one of those theater seating set-ups I can't move on my own). Finally A quick fix on my computer and we're done.

If the guys have a designated driver with them they have a single malt scotch to signify the end of the stop- and -fix moment.



A little more "Try to look natural" posing and we are well into another wonderful family evening.

Great idea, # 3 son.

The Garden Etceteras

I had high hopes that birds would set up housekeeping in the little houses on the fence. A sparrow peeked in once; have you ever seen a sparrow snicker? Well, he did.
Some creature gnawed on the entrance to one house so perhaps a squirrel was momentarily distracted--or teething.



I placed an artful assortment of watering cans upright on on this hanger but the squirrels made a game of knocking them to the ground so now they are tucked in spout-first so the rodents have to find their amusement elsewhere.



Water barrels aren't pretty but such a life-saver during the dry times.



Alas, the season was too dry for my acorn squash to develop. Next year baby, we might have just the right amount of rain.

Summer Vacation

Some mothers worry when their hedonistic kids spend their vacations at Club Med and have no intention of reporting what they did and why they look so tired.



My son Peter is back home from his annual vacation and he is fit and full of energy. He selects his area far away from hotels and room service with only an occasional passing cougar or bear for company.

This was taken in B.C. in July; although it's been a hot summer the mountains apparently didn't get the memo.



The photographer was not a passing furry creature--Pete took the shots himself.

Now he's refreshed and raring to go, plotting his next mountain adventure. By himself.

Welcome back, Pete. You're super cautious and prepared but I must confess I might have allowed a small sigh of relief to escape my lips when you arrived back home.

Taming A Garden

I don't think my son Steve and his wife Aw will disagree if I say their house falls to the bottom of the chart for curb appeal.

That didn't bother them when they bought the place three years ago because once you forced yourself to go inside, you could see lots of potential.

She is a fabulous cook and he is a fabulous carpenter/contractor too busy to tend to his own place and gardening doesn't fit in their list of interests.

After I whimpered and mewled for a while they gave me the green light to tackle the front jungle with my grandson Jamie as helper. That means he got to do all the digging.

The road on their block is being upgraded (i.e torn up,along with driveways and sidewalks.)
Probably not the best time to take on this challenge but I was hot to go.

This is a "before" view of the front on the bedroom side.



It wasn't intended to be a lovely landscaping job--it had to be quick and dirty and something that would care for itself.

I couldn't resist taking this picture of Jamie. Some day they willl shudder at the sight of those low-crotch pants. They will shudder won't they? Please.



Below is "after" in that corner. We took out some scabby shrubs and things that had been planted too close to the foundation to flourish and tucked in the hydrangea and dwarf Alberta spruce.



Below is the "before" of the area under the porch.



And after.



In the spring we'll level the ground and plant grass seed to cover the places where the old garden beds had been.

Aw says that next year she will plant lots of colorful annuals in the blank spaces and that's encouraging. She might even find she likes gardening.

Next on my whimpering list is to get them to paint over that obnoxious false brick front.

Some people might describe my actions as nagging, but Steve and Aw are too nice to say that.
And the neighbors love me.

The Rise and Fall of The Sunflower

Sunflower was looking happy and perky at its station right alongside two bird feeders.

Admittedly that was a planting mistake; birds just love sunflower seeds so naturally they munch happily and thank me for placing it in such a convenient spot.



It look pretty dejected here but I hope it understands I meant nothing personal.



Munch on, birdies.

A Surprisingly Wrenching Car Swap

I've always been attracted to cars that vaguely resemble army tanks and my Honda CRV fitted the criteria. It was the first car I bought on my own after Hal died, and it had one previous owner, a Mennonite who never engaged in any frivolous acts, like speeding or running a red light.

When the kids were young we bought some kind of a second-hand vehicle that a friend said resembled a World War Two ambulance (are you seeing a parallel here?) and I kind of think it did. It had four cylinders and we used it to haul a nineteen- foot house trailer from Ontario to B.C. and back without a falter. Later we headed for the east coast and around Lake Ontario with great results.We called it the Iron Elephant, a fitting name.

Now I always believed the CRV and I would be ready for the bone yard at the same time but my timing was out and although it was still going strong, it was old in car years.
I'm old in human years but the family genes are holding me together just fine and I'm still driving.

It was time to upgrade.

It was surprisingly heart-wrenching to part with old faithful the other day and I was on the mopey side getting used to the more compact and not- meant- for- hauling anything Hundai Elantra.

I'm slowly getting used to this newer car and it's non-tank appearance and I'm sure we'll be friends. Keyless entry is sacks of fun and in the winter the seats can be electrically warmed. How luxurious is that?



Most of the time I am grateful I am still mobile because once the car goes, the walls close in.

Just saying.