A Mother’s Day Apologia

And so it is Mother’s Day and I have been a mother for 16 years, a sort-of wife for 20 odd years. (Some would say very odd.) I have lived in this coastal city for that long, after leaving the infinitely generous and stretchy womb of Mother Prairie. And I feel it is necessary to apologize the to the lovely old mother lilac trees in our backyard. I’m sorry I did not get organized to book and pay the pruner and now you are heavy and laden with blooms which endanger your branches, (but which I relish with all my heart). I have been a naughty and selfish child.

And I apologize to the trees, especially those that feed the bees, as I have neglected my study of you for the study of the shrubs and herbs. It is because I am nearsighted and short of stature and when I climb up on things I fall and bad things happen. I am proud of my scars, but not so proud that I did not learn from those lessons.  I have gifted your feet with checkered lilies, geraniums and bleeding hearts. (There is more to come.) I must rip the blackberry, ivy and lamium from your base. Apologies for having left it so late.

I apologize to the hawthorn trees that bloom along 24^thavenue, as I have not lauded your praises enough and walked among your blossoms with that appropriate awe that you so deserve. I can make that up to you. You feed so many bees. You clear our lungs and perk up our sluggish and overfed hearts. I must make amends. I will be hawthorn bathing with a spirit of abandonment in the next two weeks. 

This year your blooms are overlapping with those of the cherry laurel. It will be interesting to see how you relate to one another in this way. The spring has been cold and wet, but you are resilient and I hope for sunshine for your haws. I hope the bees can visit you to make your fruit abundant for the song birds that depend on them.

I apologize to the redbud tree blooming near the Flower Factory. It took so long for me to learn your name. How rude. How boorish of me. We skipped the lineup inside the flower shop and I took photos of you instead. Better than dead flowers shipped by airplane from some godforsaken site of capitalist plundering. I’m sorry you have to see that day in and day out. It is soul-crushing I know.

The last time I visited you I climbed up on the bench to get closer to your beautiful blossoms. Two years have passed, and I no longer feel like I can take the risk. The torrential rain fall made the surface of the seat slippery. This makes me sad, but it is how we measure our age—by our relationship to trees.

And you, poor mock orange. You got the worst of it. The man cut you right down to the ground two weeks ago. Every morning since, I have mourned his stupidity. I have loved you for so many years. You have been there through the ripping pain of childbirth, friends made and lost, neighbors’ children conceived and fledged, the joys and sorrows of us all who pass by you on the way to the way through the way somewhere else and back again. There are tears in my eyes right now and my chest is aching with grief. You are the symbol of loss itself. The scent of your blossoms echoes in my memory. We have let you down. We should have done better. We should have loved you more. I will take your loss and use it to teach what we should not lose: the fight for beauty, phenological awareness, and sustainable cultivation. I will plant a new mock orange in your memory. Maybe a dozen. Perhaps I will steal one of your shoots under the cover of night and root your progeny. Is that what you want me to do? I’m listening.

Black Raspberries and White Strawberries: Happy Summer Solstice!

 Tonight the sun came out at dinner time and we went out for sushi. I picked some of my shiso for chef and some nasturtiums that have been inspired to blossom by the rain. I noticed that some of our black raspberries and white strawberries are ripe!  Thank you bees.

Having been in a funk due to a five day headache, I haven't been out in the garden. It's made me a bit loopy, and I have been dreaming of lupins and vibrant red hummingbird sage. Today I finally felt the vise around my cranium ease off, so I dug up more of my lawn on the dry shady end and decided to sew it with lupins to improve the soil. I also added in Johnny Jump Up seeds, along with Anise Hyssop and Phacelia. I attacked the lamium and Spanish blue bells in that dark corner of the garden that drives me crazy. Face your madness head on, I say.

David Minter was on CBC One this week again, telling us it's not to late to plant veggies for fall if we use fast-maturing varieties. And we must also start thinking about fall planting, which is why I put in those lupin seeds. Some might wait until next year to germinate. Patience, my dear. In the meantime I still have seedlings in my porch!

 I am really in love with this particular mock orange bush. The owner must think I'm a spy or something as I have been taking photos of these flowers all week. Tonight there was a pollen beetle and a honey bee along with the various stages of lady bugs.

No, that is not a floral head dress--it is a bouquet behind my head!

Well, today our boy graduated from grade seven. I was impressed at how poised and dignified the grads looked, and how cheeky their speeches were. A few of them have been at the same school since kindergarten and we have grown fond of them over the years, especially when we have seen them performing at Christmas concerts for eight years, releasing salmon chum together in grade one (vowing never to eat chum!), gardening and making art with me in class. And in recent years we've seen them skyping themselves into our lives and playing board games in our living room. Good luck to you, sweet ones--full of potential and mischief. Happy solstice and safe journeys.

Mock Orange Visitors

 This is a variety of mock orange I don't see very often. It has four petals with that tinge of pink near the nectaries, which makes me think this would be the best variety for bee visitors. It was about 6:30 pm when I took this photograph. Most bees had gone in for the evening, but the aphid eaters were busy at work.

 This is a ladybug pupae, conspicuous against the creamy white petal. These bushes are filling the dusky humid air with a heady scent, redolent of jasmine. They will provide the "smell track" to my evening's entertainment: watching murder mysteries in exotic climates.

Missed a Bus, Caught a Garage Sale

It's definitely garage sale season and today I was tempted to visit two of them, even though it is practically verboten to do so in our cluttered house. I bought some fabric for trying out natural dyes and bought a game for my son's birthday. I was given a puzzle with the vintage image of a map of Canada. I love puzzle maps and it's a great way for us to brush up on our geography.

As I was walking home from garage sale land I smelled this mock orange before I saw it. I love the luxuriant fragrance of this bush and we have a corner in our neighborhood with three trees that have bloomed and finished. I love to stand in that corner and swoon. My Fantasy Garden has mock oranges that bloom the same time as honeysuckle and the fragrance mingles as it reaches my bedroom window.