Tropical New Year at Allan Gardens

When the weather outside is frightening... we prescribe Allan Gardens for an injection of the tropics. Sarah and I recently dropped by an hour before closing for quick, medicinal treatment from their Christmas display.

That jumble of colour at the bottom right above doesn't make a great photo, but it does represent the joyous profusion that greets you inside.

Here, you see us, exiting as we arrived (by the back door to the tiny parking lot on Horticultural Avenue – a grand name for something closer to a lane. Remember it, all ye who seek to park.) The polite gentleman advancing on Sarah is about to announce closing time as we try for some last shots before we leave.

We pause for a little historical perspective, courtesy of the City of Toronto Archives:

"Who was Allan Gardens named after?
The park known as Allan Gardens was named after politician George William Allan, who originally owned the property. He gave part of the lands to the Toronto Horticultural Society in a series of transfers starting in 1860, and sold the rest of the lands to the society at a low cost to be used as a park and botanical gardens. The society ran into financial trouble, and deeded the lands to the City in 1889 for the same purpose."

I love Allan Gardens at all times of year, but the three seasonal shows make it worth special excursions. I wrote about the spring show here back in March 2008. There's also a fall show, which I've never seen, that focuses on chrysanthemums.

The winter show continues till January 10th, and this year showcases 40+ new varieties of Poinsettia (Euphorbia pulcherrima), all of them labeled. (Though plant labeling in general seems spotty of late.)

To my mind, this is how poinsettias are best seen – in mass. On my first (and only) visit to the Caribbean, I was astounded to see poinsettias growing into large shrubs or even small trees. Since then, the single pots at grocery stores have seemed lacking. I rarely buy them.

If you have a poinsettia, with the right care you can get it to rebloom. The main key is to keep your plant in total darkness (that's: total darkness) to simulate long, dark nights for about two months before the desired blooming period. If you want to give it a try, here's a good poinsettia info sheet from the U of Texas AgriLife Extension Service.

In the Palm House, you can't help but feel like a kid under the giant banana leaves. Here, a fauxpiary rocking horse is one of the successful seasonal decorations clustered between this year's floral plantings.

Other set pieces (notably the gussied up Leda and the Swan fountain and some too-twiggy gold-painted branches hung with red balls) were oddly haphazard and incohesive. Dare I use the overused: random?

These minor quibbles aside, it's hard not to love being here. Even when, like now, rain has dissolved any remnant of the wintery white stuff on Toronto's streets.

The cactus house remains one of my favourite destinations.

Allan Gardens Conservatory is open every day of the year, from 10 am to 5 pm. It's right downtown, between Carlton and Gerrard, west of Sherbourne. And it's free!

Animated Christmas Windows

There are trees in this picture. They are my excuse for writing off topic about the animated Christmas* windows on Queen Street between Bay and Yonge.

You'll notice I didn't write: at The Bay on Queen Street. That's because, to me, these will always be the Christmas windows at Simpsons.

For those playing along in other home towns, or joining us after 1991 when Simpsons became The Bay, Simpsons and Eaton's were once duelling department stores, like Canada's Macy's and Gimbels. (Like Tim Horton's now, Simpson's did away with its apostrophe in 1978. As another bit of retail trivia, Simpsons was where the kids' show Today's Special was filmed, after hours at the store.)

Eaton's (another name that has left us, as their stores are now Sears) "owned" the Santa Claus Parade (from 1905 to 1982). And I'm sure that Eaton's own Christmas windows were really very nice (click here for an illuminating series of Archives of Ontario interviews with Robert Barnes, a former general manager of visual merchandising at Eaton's).

However, my animated-window-heart still belongs to Simpsons, where I toiled (toyled?) in the toy department one Christmas, and later earned my stripes as a young special events coordinator and retail copywriter.

Unlike today, when the hottest window real estate is strictly devoted to merchandising, the showpiece of the Simpsons animated Christmas displays used to be the Queen Street corner window. In 2009, the action is restricted to five windows along Queen.

In my time at the store, the moment the windows were unveiled, the display department began brainstorming about how to out-do themselves next year. Everything was done in-house. And the windows were truly magical, over-stuffed with hidden delights in every corner.

In a pared-down way, this still holds true. No matter what your faith or your age, the windows are a wonder-full Toronto tradition.

Here, you can make out the reflection of Toronto's Old City Hall. If you come down to see the windows, bring your skates and take a few circuits around the rink just a snow-ball's throw away (if we had any snow, that is; the probability of which is actually quite slim – as this post from The Intrepid illustrates) in Nathan Phillips Square at New City Hall. It's an iconic way to celebrate this winter solstice period in Toronto.

(*Their focus on Santa couldn't make these anything but Christmas windows. However, the Christian holiday is deeply rooted in so many more ancient European and Middle Eastern traditions that perhaps we can say it is almost universal. Happy holidays to you all.)

Tips: Vermicompost Alchemy with Eggshells

In my other life as a designer I'm involved in a project involving Alchemy as a symbol. This got me thinking as I was looking at the little - er, increasingly massive - pile of eggshells and tea bags I'd set aside to add to my worm composter. (The city isn't getting this good stuff, no way!)

The chief thing an alchemist needs to do when mixing potions is to Pulverize: to mash things down to their smallest bits, the better to incorporate into something better, possibly gold. Seeing as compost, especially worm compost, often falls under the heading of Black Gold (hands up anyone who didn't immediately think: Texas Tea). I thought: " That pile is getting kind of large. Time to feed the worms. But how can I quickly pulverize those egg shells, without making a mess, the way I usually do?". My usual method is to grab egg shells, squish in bare hands, and, while balancing shell mess in one hand, toss into worm composter, usually getting shells on the floor as I hold onto the icky lid with the other hand.

Sometimes the simplest ideas work best. Today I hit on the idea of grabbing a sandwich baggie and tossing the egg shells in, then squishing by hand. It works great, you can really mash them up quite small. Plus pulverizing the shells like this almost has the satisfying feel you get popping bubble wrap. It's even better, because you are doing something positive for your garden, instead of merely having the simple, yet fun, wanton destruction of popping bubble wrap. (Not that there's anything wrong with that.)

The baggie keeps everything neat and tidy while you squish; it makes, squishing easier, and it's easy to walk over to the bin, lift the lid and sprinkle the contents inside without getting shells on the floor.

Anyway, do something for yourself and your worms, and be an Vermicompost Alchemist. Go forth and Pulverize!

Scrap the Honesty: Ten untrue things about us

We're vain enough to want to play, and flattered that Helen Yoest of Gardening With Confidence tagged us for the Honest Scrap Award, in company with six very wonderful blogs. However, we won't ask anyone to play along... unless you feel an urge coming on.

If that doesn't seem fair to you, somehow not quite cricket, Grasshopper, then think of this as our Dis-Honest Scrap...


Ten un-true things about Helen and Sarah:

1. In our immaculate homes, dust bunnies fear for their lives. The moment one alights, poof! It's toast, without the chance to go forth and multiply.

2. Ditto, the weeds in our gardens. You sensed that about us, didn't you?

3. We always put off our procrastination for another day.

4. We would never think of eating a cookie. Neither of us would be tempted for an instant. Nope. Not even by Rice Krispie Squares. In bulk. It's the secret behind our svelte behinds.

5. Tea? Who needs it! Certainly not us, the moment we open our eyes.

6. Before we hit the garden centre, we always make a detailed plant list. Having comparison-shopped, we know exactly what we need to buy, by genus, species and cultivar. That's why we never overspend. Ever. Furthermore, we know exactly where each plant will be planted.

7. And we plant them immediately.

8. Speaking of which, we always design our plantings. Oh, um, yes. That's right. We always design our plantings!

9. We design them in Jekyll-like drifts. Each year, we create a season-long succession of sweeping swathes of bloom – all perennials – coordinated by Pantone® colours which, naturally, match the gowns we wear on planting day.

10. At the end of each season, our tools are tuned and alphabetically filed, our plants cross-referenced by height and hue, our garden photos accurately tagged and safely archived, our cuttings cut, our seed starters prepped to start, and our never-neglected houseplants are carefully treated for hitchhikers before wintering indoors.

Which reminds me, I'm unsure why: We must do a post soon on insect scale. Not that we'd ever get it on our ivy. Nor on our jasmine! Tsk.

Blooms Day: Mid-December in Toronto

Okay. It isn't a bloom. In fact, my Hoya has never bloomed. I inherited it from my mother more than 20 years ago (and I don't think it ever bloomed for her, either). Considering my notorious neglect of houseplants, the fact that it still lives is an accomplishment.

Yet, if you've read our blog you might know that back in June I also did this (cringe!) to my mother's hoya. I'm not proud of it. Nevertheless, I do feel pretty proud that it has almost recovered from the carnage. That's my story.

Others, I'm positive, have better things to crow about this December. To drool over them, wander over to visit Carol of May Dreams Gardens, gracious hostess of Garden Bloggers Blooms Day every 15th of every month. Even this one.

Pardon my fuzz: Botanical tiles

This mosaic of botanical tiles caught my eye in a panel beside the elevator in the upstairs mezzanine of the Royal Botanical Gardens in Burlington. They look like fired clay, with the imprint of actual leaves and flowers. Please excuse the fuzziness of the images, taken in dim light with a hand-held camera. Hope they're clear enough to give you an impression, and not so blurred as to make you dizzy, without the assistance of eggnog.

I've emailed the RBG for more information (such as the name of the artist; the significance of the plant materials), and will update this post when I hear back.

Thought this might be a good idea to file away for future projects. Imagine this mimicked in concrete and mixed with commercial pavers in the central section of a patio, or as an accent in a garden wall. [I'll add my best guess about how the details might have been picked out: possibly by dipping the materials in a dye before making the impression?]

Remind me, however, to one day confess my concrete paver story. It involved a grade school full of kids, a cement truck, and a Mount Everest of fast-drying concrete.

Greetings from the Frozen North

13 Clues Winter Has Started

1. You wake up with the tell tale sign of something solid pelting the window pane. The big snow has arrived.

2. You are grateful that you don't have to go anywhere in the car today. No outside appointments! Yay! You snuggle under the covers. *feel smug*

3. You remember you have a puppy, with an outdoor bathroom/romping in the park habit. *heave sigh*

4. You dress in many layers, including new "sleeping bag with arms" coat purchased especially for the dog park. *think how smart you are for planning!*

5. Sad realization that haven't thought yet about winter footwear. *November, curses for lulling you into false sense of security!*

6. You remember that your winter boots are in a high cupboard. You need a ladder to access. You already look like the Michelan Man, and Puppy is bouncing off walls. You decide the hell with the boots, it's just a few inches of snow. *taking charge! making decisions!*

7. You decide to wear sneakers instead of leather walking shoes because they have "traction". You forget that they also have "holes".

8. You get outside. Human, meet weather. Weather, meet human. It's now 4 inches of Cold and Slushy and Windy. *bad first date. just finish coffee and get home quickly*

9. It's also raining. *of course it is!*

10. Your "winter interest" planter with the curly willow has tipped onto the walk, from the 60 km winds. Worry about slipping on the walkway, holding puppy leash with one hand, while you tip it back into place. It promptly falls back over. *damn, damn, damn, damn*

11. It takes approximately 2 and a half minutes for the slush to percolate through the sneakers, as you walk towards dog park. *you find this strangely compelling, thinking about osmosis*


12. Standing in the dog park, amongst snow, slush and howling winds, a new human with dog arrives, hailing you and the four others, with the greeting: "Hello nutbars." *yes. we are nutbars*

13. You come home looking like the person in the postcard.

Small tools for small gardens

Small gardens like mine offer scant room for tool storage. That's why constantly look for tools that are compact, easy to store and hard-working in the garden. Here are two I've had good results with – both time-tested as well as bankrolled by yours truly.

The first – and the rust says it's been around for a while – is a telescoping fan rake.  Not only does the handle telescope for easier storage (or used to telescope; grit has halted that action in mine -- must try some WD40), the tines on the rake adjust from the closed position seen here to a wide-open leaf rake.

That's convenient for storage. The ingenious Mr. TG has fashioned what looks like a towel rack out of copper pipe on the inside of our shed door. My rake, stainless steel "lady spade" and small garden fork all slot between it and the door, resting on the bottom runner of the frame, meaning they're always handy.

The closed position also gives the rake greater stability and strength for tasks like dethatching a small lawn. Yes, even I have actually done that on occasion. It's also useful for jobs like spreading mulch in narrow areas between plants.

I've found different versions of this rake online, but mine came from Lee Valley Tools, too many years ago for me to recall when. If I were a better housekeeper, the telescoping handle might still work. Even so, it has been a tough little rake in the Microgarden.

The second tool, the NuCan watering can, was purchased at Canada Blooms a few years ago. There are two neat things about this watering can. The first is the push-button regulator valve – in this side view, you can just make it out as the white button above the back handle.

This allows you to control the water flow, even if only to quickly shut it on and off. That's great when giving brief jolts of water to pots that have dried out, so that the water has a chance to slowly rehydrate the soil, and doesn't disappear into the ground. Isn't that  the kind of example I would give?

The top view illustrates why this is a space-saver.

The narrow profile allows you to tuck this can easily out of the way, even indoors when you've hauled pots in for the winter. The shape also makes lugging water from the rain barrel to the garden kinder on the arms; you don't have to hold the watering can awkwardly away from the body.

I was also intrigued by the NuCan on learning that it was a favourite of Norman Wisdom. Norman Wisdom! Shades of black-and-white British movies on Saturday afternoon TV, back in the days of rabbit-ears. How could I resist that odd bit of trivia?

Searching for local sources, I found it on this page from the St. George Company from Paris, Ontario. I have never ordered anything from them (anyone who has, please let me know), so can't say what they're like to deal with. However, the $9.50 price here tells you that this could be a good little stocking stuffer – if you don't mind lumpy stockings. My NuCan has stood up to the often deadly Helen High Waters treatment, so I can vouch for the product.

More things for your wish lists to come.

Allan Gardens by Candlelight for the Holidays

Today is opening day for the Christmas flower show at Allan Gardens – sorry for the late notice, but it is on till 5 pm (click the image for a larger view). Head on down to enjoy the carol singers, hot cider, carriage rides and other festal festivities. And, of course, see the floral displays at their freshly installed, pristine best.

Centennial Park Conservatories opens their show next Sunday. And both conservatories have three magical evenings of candle-light viewing, 5 to 7 pm, on three Sundays starting December 13th.

Cold climate escape, right in our midst. And it's free! Bring the kiddos. I can hear that paddle wheel a-flappin' now.

RBG: Doorways to the Holidays

Some inspiration for front door décor from the Royal Botanical Gardens in Burlington. Their display of 100 decorated doors continues till December 10th.

The RBG is only about an hour's drive from Toronto, and if you haven't visited in a while (I hadn't till a Garden Writers' Association conference took me there on Friday) you'll be surprised. The new atrium facility provides cold-weather exhibition space for events like these.

Who says wreaths have to be round? Not only does the one above defy conventional shape, it includes birch ring flowers and what looks like pheasant feather foliage. Love the door, too.



I also like this simple idea for displaying a limited amount of greenery. It's actually the bottom half of a double-decker decoration (or... double-decker-ation). No need to use birchbark if it isn't available... perhaps get out the glue gun and wrap a container in ribbon.

While this wreath doesn't photograph well, it looks quite nifty in real life. Grass seedheads like Miscanthus and Panicum along with what might be Eupatorium and spiky Veronicastrum in both the wreath and garland make a feathery, naturalistic display. Nestled here and there are feed-seed clusters for the birds. Pretty and delicious. Might have chosen a different ribbon, though. How about one cut from strips of newspaper? That fits with the compostable theme.

This has to be my favourite, and it's the only one for which I had the good sense to note the designer: William Kolomas of the RBG's Horticulture Department. Do you see what it's made of? Hinges! Hinges, doorknobs and the pins that hold the two halves of hinges together (lynchpins?). Very neat idea. If you look very closely you'll see an inadvertant self-portrait in the knob on the lower right.

Friday's event supplied a few ideas for posts, giving me fodder for the lean winter months. Meanwhile, perhaps I'll dust off my red feather wreath -- the one I fashioned out of a Hallowe'en boa from Village des Valeurs a couple of years ago -- and give it an update.