Sunday 26 July 2015

Garden 13: Abandoned Stuff, Things of Beauty



A garden is a thing of beauty and a job forever - so true! So is a family. That "beauty" has surpassed "job" is a wonderful relief; I wasn't always sure it could happen.

Holding pen - this is where all the question marks end up: the yard waste bin, the ladder, old bricks, plants that don't fit elsewhere, excess seeds: forget-me-not, poppy and foxglove. It is turning into a garden on its own.

I stashed the window out of reach until I could decide what to do with it - 8 years ago. Think I'll hang it by an existing nail on the side of the garage...

The wrought iron plant hanger, intended for my mother two Christmases ago, was found in an alley.

The very old rhododendron tree - dubbed "the Shooting Tree" by my 4 year-old(?) son - is a hot pink stunner in late May. It's a survivor.

The apple tree got a daring, lop-sided pruning this year. I see the stump now serves as a chalk holder.
Reclaimed items, awaiting re-purposing. Useful, abandoned stuff is everywhere.
Torches: I'm wondering if it's time to find these a new home - we have had no use for them.

In the paradigm-changing words of a friend whose path might never have crossed my own had we not both given birth at roughly the same point and place in time, "Stuff comes, and stuff goes." I'll happily move them along to someone who might actually use them. But I'm an optimist: big changes have been afoot... I'm hanging on to them until the end of summer.

Garden 14:  Harvest
Garden 12: Death and Potential
Garden 11: Japanese Maple Tree and Sedum (?)
Garden 10: Foxglove and Weed Digger
Garden 9: Veggies and Sweet Pea 
Garden 8: Gnomes and Slugs
Garden 7: The Lady Next Door
Garden 6: Euphorbia and Rusted, Metal Things
Garden 5: Cement Bench and Wallflower
Garden 4: Maryjane
Garden 3: Family Portrait
Garden 2: The Neighbours'
Garden 1: Lilac Bush and Abandoned Cans

Monday 20 July 2015

House 1 : Beaumont


Wikipedia informs me the Beaumont was produced by GM for the Canadian market between 1962 and 1969. Survivors are now collector cars, as most "succumbed" to the harsh Canadian winter.

This beautifully corroded car badge was already affixed to the inside of the cobweb-filled garage when we moved in. It was put there, I am fairly certain, by Mr. A. Renwick, house painter and second owner of our home, two before us. A fellow who grew up in the house across the lane  confirmed my suspicions: Mr. Renwick* owned a Beaumont in the '60s. A brown one.
*The fellow pronounced it "Rennick"


I'll show you mine if you show me yours
The lick of drab, peach-coloured paint under that badge matches the under-sides of the shelves in the linen closet - which comprised about 20% of the total closet space when we moved in. How did people stay organized with so little storage?! Surely they didn't have any less stuff than I have... 

It's not a particularly efficient closet, either: it's shallow and the shelves are poorly spaced. What did the Renwicks keep in there? Not their broom; a broom won't fit. Linen, folded just the right way so the door can close? A dismantled vacuum cleaner, a large box of rags, assorted headlamps, swim goggles, light bulbs, bandaids, syringes, needles*, alcohol swabs, and a spare sharps container?
*Did you know syringes and needles are two different things? Neither did I!

I get a kick out of the weird paraphernalia of my existence - items I'd never heard of, let alone imagined I'd ever own or need: Lycra body socks, Therabands and Chewellery* for intense proprioceptive input. Visual schedules for front-loading and transitions; a cheat sheet on my fridge in case of my own dysregulation; and a checklist on the bulletin board - "30 Good Things About ADHD" - to remind me.

*later replaced by parkour classes
A visual schedule; it's key
The side of my fridge. The grey thing is a juicer key, for all the apples in July.
My son insisted I add the paraphrasing, lower left.

But the weirdest to me is the sharps containers. There is one in the kitchen, one in the bathroom, sometimes one on my dresser, a spare or two in the hall closet. Though the novelty of giving my daughter her nightly shot has long worn off, I still marvel at the presence of the yellow boxes of medical waste that decorate my rooms, and at the fact that my superpower turns out to be the ability to give a one-handed injection, in the dark, to a sleeping child - without waking her up. (That, and I'm pretty good at parallel parking.)
Not the elegant, 2-in-1 solution I had envisioned

Whenever I find myself startled at the sight of the severe-looking plastic box with the red biohazard symbol, it crosses my mind that there must be some better way to incorporate it into my decor. But how? It was a eureka moment when I hit upon the idea to disguise it with a toilet roll doll, thereby also solving the perplexing puzzle of how to give one of those seriously useless - but bizarrely appealing - dolls some legitimate function in life. Let's face it, hiding toilet paper doesn't count as useful.

Sadly, the doll won't stand up straight in the wide hole of the sharps box, and it's a pain to lift her dress to get the needle in. Ah well... another idea will surely come. Meanwhile, the box in my kitchen works great for holding garlic.


Just-picked garlic, curing
I would love to invite them for tea - the Renwicks and anybody else who's ever lived here. I'd sort out exactly who sat in my living room, watching Elvis from the waist up, or swooning over the Beatles on Ed Sullivan. I want to know about the clothes in the insufficient closets: were there flour sack dresses, followed by utility clothing, then crinolines, then A-line mini dresses and boots made for walking? We can commiserate about our socks, snagged on that nail* in the hallway that keeps poking back up.
*That nail, by the way, is responsible for the demise of many a Phentex slipper, explaining why you will rarely find me in a proper, matching pair - my signature look

They will know to duck going down the basement stairs, and not to park under the tulip trees in summer*. I will thank them for leaving the various, painted nails in the living room - perfectly positioned for birthday streamers, Christmas stockings, and front door wreaths.
*aphid poop

I'll ask what weird things they accumulated, what surprising skills they acquired. I'll learn how Mr. Renwick's Beaumont came to be separated from its badge and how that swipe of closet paint found its way to the wall of the garage. I'll find out where they kept their stuff.


Before the garage collapses completely,
I will extract the Beaumont badge.
I'm thinking chain saw...
July 2015

Thursday 16 July 2015

Garden 12: Death and Potential


Rincรณn of Certain Death - this is where plants go to die. Dry and shady, even morning glory can't be bothered. I like the green-ish, clog-shaped rock on the compressed clump of dead roots from an abandoned planter.

The rabbit is the frame from a Mother's Day boxwood topiary,
 killed gradually with good intentions and neglect.

The runty, unhappy lilac, which has never bloomed, is looking for a new home. Do you have a sunny place for it?
 


East Garden - also parched due to overhanging trees, but it does get some morning light. Inspired by a since-destroyed garden (passed twice daily in the two years before the search began for a more appropriate educational setting for my son), the sedum-covered rotting stump is my favourite element of the garden - if only for its potential.

I'm trying to encourage the snow-in-summer to grow into a massive, cascading clump, by not re-planting it - yet again - into a new spot at least once every single year. I think I might finally have settled most of the plants into places where they - and I - can agree on. The clump is getting bigger, but produces very few flowers.

The rhododendron hasn't bloomed in so many years I don't remember what colour it is. Maybe next year; it's healthy enough...

The bricks came from a dumpster at a gutted house, a block away. I stole them home (loudly) on my son's plastic wagon under the cover of darkness after an anniversary dinner out with my husband. After the 3rd load the security guard, who had been watching from the shadows, thanked me for taking them. Scared the be-jiggers out of me.


Tuesday 14 July 2015

Garden 11: Japanese Maple Tree and Sedum (?)


Evil Penguin - a Duncan garage sale freebie - lives at the base of the Japanese maple tree, a birthday gift from my mother, purchased at Costco about a year after my son was born. Plant lust* had taken root, but there was no time for the luxury of gardening - or for perusing actual garden shops. I planted it near my kitchen window so I could watch it; now it's almost all I can see. It is exquisite all year round, but especially so when the leaves are just opening. Or dropping off. Or when it gets those dangly, helicopter seed-pods that twirl when they drop. My daughter is unable to explain the origin of Evil Penguin's name.
*Thing 3, 3rd paragraph

This stuff! This stuff is great! It came, one or two orphans at a time, from various local gardens. It transplants without fuss; magically reproduces to fill in bare spots; is easily controlled; survives shade, irregular watering and accidental trampling; and sends up a delicate cloud of hovering, white-ish, tiny flowers each spring. I've looked the name up a few times, but keep forgetting...a kind of sedum*? I'll definitely take some when I go.
*It's saxifrage London Pride, otherwise known as Look Up and Kiss Me. Thanks, Peter!


A view of the garage, which I can (sort of) see from my kitchen window, through the maple tree. The saxifrage is in full, misty bloom. The metal dragonfly edging came from my friend, Sheila. I don't remember who looked after my infant daughter so I could take my son to a parent-and-child pottery class. He made numerous camouflage-coloured objects, a dinosaur with volcanoes, and a rocket ship; I made a Please Pick the Weeds hanging and plaques of my children's footprints.

Garden 14:  Harvest
Garden 13: Abandoned Stuff, Things of Beauty
Garden 12: Death and Potential
Garden 11: Japanese Maple Tree and Sedum (?)
Garden 10: Foxglove and Weed Digger
Garden 9: Veggies and Sweet Pea 
Garden 8: Gnomes and Slugs
Garden 7: The Lady Next Door
Garden 6: Euphorbia and Rusted, Metal Things
Garden 5: Cement Bench and Wallflower
Garden 4: Maryjane
Garden 3: Family Portrait
Garden 2: The Neighbours'
Garden 1: Lilac Bush and Abandoned Cans

Sunday 12 July 2015

Garden 10: Foxglove and Weed Digger

We can't ignore the garage much longer. Or can we... 
Broken foxglove, ant, Shooting House
The realtor who sold us the house gave me a film canister of foxglove seed and a gardening manual when we closed the deal. It wasn't David Richardson, though he sends a poinsettia every November, and ensures we never run out of calendars or shopping list paper. His pitch involves inviting himself over for coffee. I avoid making coffee.

I knew it would take two years to produce flowers, but I didn't know the difference between foxglove seedlings and bachelor buttons. I yanked them out before they could bloom. These came from the neighbourhood and my mother's garden. They pop up each year in unexpected and inconvenient places. I don't like to discourage them.

The dandelion digger - one of the best Mother's Day gifts ever - at the ready. My friend's husband replaced the handle for my 50th birthday.

It's 50:50 whether the snow shovel and salt will find their way to the garage before they are needed again, but I always make sure to suitably store my weed digger in time for winter.

Garden 14:  Harvest
Garden 13: Abandoned Stuff, Things of Beauty
Garden 12: Death and Potential
Garden 11: Japanese Maple Tree and Sedum (?)
Garden 9: Veggies and Sweet Pea 
Garden 8: Gnomes and Slugs
Garden 7: The Lady Next Door
Garden 6: Euphorbia and Rusted, Metal Things
Garden 5: Cement Bench and Wallflower
Garden 4: Maryjane
Garden 3: Family Portrait
Garden 2: The Neighbours'
Garden 1: Lilac Bush and Abandoned Cans

Friday 10 July 2015

Garden 9: Veggies and Sweet Pea



Part of the veggie garden, which occupies a slim portion of the back alley. Lettuce, garlic and kale do OK, but, perplexingly, I have no talent for growing zucchini. Black tubs and encouragement come from Peter. The wooden boxes were found in an alley near my house. The substitute behaviour interventionist (BI), during a break from a back-yard proprioceptive input session with my son (which looks a lot like whacking him repeatedly with various objects), helped me carry them from the back of the car.

Another view of the renegade garden, showing a failed attempt at vertical gardening using discarded, mesh trash cans. It had seemed like such a good idea, but produced only dandelions and a few limp, bitter lettuces.

The neighbour behind us has two Boler trailers, similar to the one my family used when my sister and I were growing up. They have a particular smell: fibreglass, hot dust, sticky ketchup packets, a whiff of propane and just a hint of bad refrigerator. Not entirely unpleasant.



The kitchen garden, at the bottom of the stairs. I love the idea more than the reality. Maybe if it got some sun... As it is, it gives a dependable, if not smallish, supply of garlic chives, chard, kale and nasturtium.

My dad built the wooden planter. The rest, including the wrought iron rack, came from the alley.
This is a sweet pea (?) my daughter planted in Brownies. I'm hoping it will climb the clematis and flower profusely, with its cheerful scent and cute, little, candy-coloured blossoms - but it's not doing much. I smell every sweet pea I pass, hoping for a good, strong whiff; have you noticed in recent years they've had almost no fragrance at all? Sweet pea scent has gone the way of watermelon seeds.

Wednesday 8 July 2015

OSF Estate Donation 2: Sheila's Stash

Volunteering for Our Social Fabric has its perks: the company of diverse, generous, creative people, and the inspiration that comes of sorting through donations of long-treasured sewing stashes: useful things that have been saved - sometimes for generations - because one day they may come in handy.

Part of my duties at OSF is to prepare these boxes and bags of goodies to be sold. It's a considerable, often daunting - but always interesting - task. There is always the usual: yardage, thread, notions, buttons; and a few surprises: baby teeth, boot hooks, phonograph needles. I often become a little attached to the glimpse I get of the previous keeper, and I'm always grateful. I hope when I am gone, someone will do the same for me.

Another perk: OSF volunteers receive small amounts of goods for their troubles. Most take a piece or two of fabric. I am attracted to the curious, the ugly and the abandoned: projects that never got finished, strange things that don't really belong in a sewing stash, and dreadful polyester double-knit - nothing of any value, and often objectively quite horrible or useless. It would appear my purpose in life is to find a reason for neglected junk to exist. These things I take home, to live with, until they reveal their purpose.

It was hot as the four of us sorted Sheila's stash this Canada Day. It was a very organized donation: yardage separated by fibre content; notions grouped by type. There were unique items: decades-old clothing to be remade; fabric flowers, fur cuffs and collars removed from their original garments; worn-out attire, half-scavenged for trim (including a lovely pair of cotton bloomers with trap door, and two fancy dickeys) and toilet rolls, neatly wound with what had been removed. We marvelled at envelopes containing shoe laces, sorted by length; coffee tins of broken jewellery, toy car axles and marbles. There were two banks of labelled, tiny drawers: hooks and eyes, by purpose and size; buttons, by colour and type; teddy bear eyes... There was a place for everything, and everything was in its place. Tucked throughout, we found recipe clippings.

Thank you, Sheila, for saving your stash for us. It will be passed along to people who will appreciate it. Here are your treasures I set aside:


I could not have felt more proud



  • The back section only of a lime green, floral, raglan-sleeved, cotton dress with yoke. This will be a fun challenge. Wonder what happened to the rest of it...
  • An unused, cotton hankie with print of kids in Maryjanes (tee hee). Something for my daughter.
  • A tiny, hand-embroidered pair of felt mittens. Each year I give my children a special ornament - an idea I got from my aunt, who did the same for her kids. Last year, I found my daughter a hand-made, tiny pair of skates that could have been purchased at the same church bazaar as these mitts. Mittens and skates for my Special Olympics Skater of the Year: perfect! I will embroider her name and the year on the back, and tell her what I know of their story.
  • Three polyester rouleaux ties. I bought two similar ties in Tokyo.* Shoelaces, perhaps?
    *the other two souvenirs: a cast iron tea pot, and a pair of split toe construction worker boots, that I plan to embellish. Plus toe socks, to wear with. The ties came from the stupendous sewing shop, Tomato - check it out!
  • Mine are white, but shorter

  • Two mis-matched, polyester pant cuffs, and a skirt hem. I don't know what causes people to keep them once they've shortened their trousers, but I keep finding them! So many have come my way, lately, I think the universe is trying to tell me something. Bring them on - an idea is brewing!
  • A card with 5 used beading needles. They're so easily bent, and with all the embellishment on Blossom's corset, I'm running out.
  • A bullet. Yep, a real bullet - a first at OSF. Things that don't have any other obvious place to live often end up in button boxes. This was found in a shoe box, along with some safety pins; a few sticky pennies; scattered beads from broken jewellery; a St. Christopher, stuck fast to the cardboard; a bunch of blue, Bic pen caps... This will take research, as well as contemplation.

  • 4 partly-used skeins of horrible, scrutchy, Phentex yarn: black, red, white, brown. I almost wrote "wool". Phentex is definitely not wool. It is a "space age fibre". Want to talk Luposlipaphobia? Socks have got nothing on Phentex!

    In the winter I depend on Phentex slippers - lovingly made by my mother in various shades of ugly - to help my brain, which can't function if my feet are cold. What we've discovered: old Phentex stretches and holds its shape better than the new stuff (which used to be available at Zeller's). Generally only (rarely) found at garage sales and thrift stores.
  • A round, wooden bingo marker: under the I: 23. No idea what I'll do with it, but a single bingo marker seems a particularly useless thing: right up my alley.
  • A tiny, heavy, tarnished, miniature... baby rattle? It doesn't rattle, but what else can I call it? It might serve as... something... something... nothing's coming to me - yet...
  • A pin: "Souvenir of Rodeo. Let 'Er Buck". It reminds me of a fella I didn't know well in high school, and wish now I had - I'll give it to him if ever I should see him again.  He's an actual cowboy. We're Facebook friends.
  • The separated pieces of two moth-holey, cashmere cardigans: shrimp-tomato red and a medium, heathery green, including sleeves with cuffs, one ribbon-faced placket with shell buttons (no corresponding buttonhole side), and a black-thread-darned sleeve. I will likely use these to felt together a sweater.
  • An unopened package of labels, with "Sheila", in red. These are a gift for my friend, the connector who first introduced me to OSF.
  • And the item that made me squeal in delight - something I've been hoping to stumble across for months: an honest-to-goodness, hand-crocheted, toilet roll doll! The real thing: blue variegated acrylic, pompons, plastic shoes that won't stay on her feet - everything but the hat! Jackpot! I thought I had hit on a brilliant solution to disguise my daughter's sharps box, and create some real use for one of these crazy dolls, all in one swoop. Sadly, it worked better in my mind.... Not to worry: a little more sideways thinking, and its real purpose may soon be revealed. Stay tuned.
The bulk of Sheila's donation has been sorted and packaged and is ready to be sold. Maybe you will find a treasure, too. Our next sale is Sunday, August 9, from 10 - 1. Our Social Fabric is located at 871 E. Hastings. See you there?

Garden 8: Gnomes and Slugs


The hand-me-down pot contains what, for 17 years, I thought was the worst mint ever,
and actually turns out to be pretty good lemon balm
This little guy, along with two buddies (one since broken), came from a friend's yard sale in support of cancer research. They fill in empty spots in the garden. My son became convinced I am a huge enthusiast, and makes me garden gnome-related creations to show his love. In the days before the New Slug Relocation Policy, many a banana - and ordinary - slug was dispatched from within, using a pair of pruners, a tiny shovel, a chopstick, a dedicated kitchen knife or a twig - apparently, slugs are fond of gnomes, too.


When my son learned the details of my (now-suspended) Slug Elimination Program, he was horrified, and accused me of murder. The new protocol involves removal to the yard waste bin. As long as they stay in, we can make this work.

I found the metal, snail stepping "stone" with my neighbour and friend, Petersalvaging plants in a Kitsilano garden that was already under destruction. We rescued a number of excellent, healthy plants that afternoon, including the huge sword fern in this picture, a purple, miniature rhododendron, and a mophead hydrangea that looked like it wouldn't make it, but rallied in the second year.

The garden clogs came from "Stuff Night", a kind of infrequent swap meet with friends, benefiting the DDA. Previously an important component of my slug destruction arsenal, these days they are as likely to be worn by my son as by me. We've reached that brief juncture where we are of similar size, and I'm heartened by his readiness to share. By next summer I will have the shoes all to myself again. Hope he'll still lend me his hoodies. 

Garden 14:  Harvest
Garden 13: Abandoned Stuff, Things of Beauty
Garden 12: Death and Potential
Garden 11: Japanese Maple Tree and Sedum (?)
Garden 10: Foxglove and Weed Digger
Garden 9: Veggies and Sweet Pea 
Garden 7: The Lady Next Door
Garden 6: Euphorbia and Rusted, Metal Things
Garden 5: Cement Bench and Wallflower
Garden 4: Maryjane
Garden 3: Family Portrait
Garden 2: The Neighbours'
Garden 1: Lilac Bush and Abandoned Cans

Friday 3 July 2015

Garden 7: The Lady Next Door


Curlicue from my ex-neighbour's front steps railing
You'd think it would be hard to remain dignified while being escorted from one's home wearing a too-large, hooded, Tyvec onesie, duct-taped at the wrists and ankles, like a walking bio hazard - but my neighbour managed it.
...
She lived that way, it would seem, long before I arrived next door. Her shredded, water-stained curtains never parted; the shapes pushing them up against the windows did not change; and a cold waft of fusty air whacked me upside the head if ever I (rarely) knocked on her door: but it was only in the last few years that the extent of her situation became obvious to me. By then, proceedings had already begun to make her a ward of the province, have her hospitalized, and sell her house.

The place was a disaster, but in some ways a little cheering, too. The grass - which she cut herself, shoving and pulling that seemingly over-sized mower through the underbrush - was filled with bluebell and lily-of-the-valley. The back yard was a jumble of over-grown shrubs; an encroaching fig tree; treacherous, abandoned fence-post holes; a towering, out-of-place - but happy - Douglas fir; slugs; and - survey says - rodents (though I can't say I've noticed a decline since the house and garden were removed). OK, maybe the garden was not so cheering, but she planted it all herself in the more-than-40 years she lived there. That counts for something.

The topic of our odd, but beloved, neighbour came up frequently in the alley; we were vaguely concerned about her, but we let her do her thing. She mostly kept to herself, feigning invisibility unless someone spoke to her first, or she was faced with some task too big for her: break her into her house, or help with a flood and fire in her basement. If we met round the end of the fence she was warily generous, offering excellent, though bruised, Gravenstein windfalls that careened to earth from her never-pruned apple tree; tomato starts, discovered in her composter; Sweet William seeds in sealed, hand-labelled envelopes (no luck in my shady garden); and a miniature cup and saucer set for my daughter. Her comings and goings were announced by the sound of her gate, scraping along the ground between our houses, and, every night before garbage day, by the rattle and clink of the neighbourhood's empties, squeezing through it.

She participated in our annual garbage clean-ups, took canning classes at the community centre, and worked all the voting stations, film festivals, and Folk Fest. No doubt you've seen her around. She was engaged in her own timorous, slightly-crusty way, and she was fond of my kids. She was OK by me.

Hand-me-down hostas, sword fern and clematis; tidy, new neighbours, no trees.
Did she know I relied on
 her to remind me of garbage day?
After her release from hospital, she was moved into a condo across town. I am told someone checks on her to make sure she is not accumulating stuff. I saw her last, very briefly, at an Our Social Fabric sale, about two years ago. When I said hello she stopped not looking at me, and made an acknowledgement. Just like when we used to be neighbours.

I've been thinking: now that the shade is gone from my garden, I might buy some Sweet William seeds and see if they'll grow.

Garden 14:  Harvest
Garden 13: Abandoned Stuff, Things of Beauty
Garden 12: Death and Potential
Garden 11: Japanese Maple Tree and Sedum (?)
Garden 10: Foxglove and Weed Digger
Garden 9: Veggies and Sweet Pea 
Garden 8: Gnomes and Slugs
Garden 6: Euphorbia and Rusted, Metal Things
Garden 5: Cement Bench and Wallflower
Garden 4: Maryjane
Garden 3: Family Portrait
Garden 2: The Neighbours'
Garden 1: Lilac Bush and Abandoned Cans

Thursday 2 July 2015

Garden 6: Euphorbia and Rusted, Metal Things




Straight out of the Jetson's, right?
It was euphorbia that first turned my frown upside-down on those cortisol-fuelled, forced strolls* through the neighbourhood.
*See the 3rd distraction

I wanted some for the longest time. And I wanted it from the neighbourhood. However, euphorbia has a milky sap that itches if touched bare-skinned, so I was unlikely to attain any on the fly. My chance came when my neighbour offered me a shorter variety that was escaping her front garden. I put on my gloves.

Can't remember the exact circumstances of the tall ones, my faves. I would love a lush, jutting, space-age clump of them in every corner - chartreuse rocket ship landing-stations masquerading as early spring flowers - but they don't come easy. I planted this one directly under the kitchen window, where I can put my head out each morning and check on its progress. It's settling in nicely.

Euphorbia, tall and small
The rusting, peeling, metal building decoration is one of two I found on the sidewalk in front of a house in East Vancouver, en route to whatever was the destination of the day. It would have been nap time.

I kept, in the car, a Costco-sized container of cashews, a pillow, two blankets, a box of Kleenex, and a succession of water-tight, fake-Tupperware containers, just in case. I spent a lot of time there, napping, and if not napping, driving less-travelled roads to some child-friendly destination.

I took care to not disturb the child while loading.

The wrought iron curlicue (in the wooden planter box) snapped off the next-door neighbour's front railing when the digger was tearing down her condemned house.

You'd think it would be hard to remain dignified while being escorted from one's home wearing a too-large, hooded, Tyvec onesie, duct-taped at the wrists and ankles, like a walking bio hazard - but my neighbour managed it.

I saw the bulldozer crunch up her railing from my son's bedroom window. We liberated the metal curlicue from the rubble, in the dark. Another 2 or 3 straight pieces serve as plant stakes elsewhere in the garden.

To be continued...

Garden 14:  Harvest
Garden 13: Abandoned Stuff, Things of Beauty
Garden 12: Death and Potential
Garden 11: Japanese Maple Tree and Sedum (?)
Garden 10: Foxglove and Weed Digger
Garden 9: Veggies and Sweet Pea 
Garden 8: Gnomes and Slugs
Garden 7: The Lady Next Door
Garden 5: Cement Bench and Wallflower
Garden 4: Maryjane
Garden 3: Family Portrait
Garden 2: The Neighbours'
Garden 1: Lilac Bush and Abandoned Cans

Wednesday 1 July 2015

Garden 5: Cement Bench and Wallflower

As promised: a poke through my garden - in 10 installments, more or less.


The story of much of what's in my house and garden begins, "I was walking down the street..."

This bench came from outside the Kentucky Fried Chicken on W. Broadway, which is now David Hunter Garden Centre. I paid $20 for it, including delivery - everything that was in my wallet when I happened upon the men loading it into their van, happened to get talking to them, and happened to be offered it for however much I was willing to spend. I'm lucky that way.

Before babies, I would have spent hours improving it. For about the first 8 years I still intended to. Now I love the peeling paint the most. Thank you, Babies.

Behind it, my fairy godflower. This obliging wallflower - an orphan rescued from a bulldozer - is happy to grow from just a broken twig stuck in the soil.