That Wonderful Smell? It's Fall

We are well into fall now and careening into winter, but I can't let the season pass without noting some of fall's favourite smells.  
 
No matter how long ago you were a student, a new school year always lends fall a special personality: an odd contrast of something starting up, while the growing season is screeching to a halt. To further burrow this time in our brains, it is filled with smells that make it unlike any other season. Fall as Aromatherapy.
Any North American older than fifty has the scent of burning leaves seared into their memory, as bagging and composting was almost unheard of back then. I have fond memories of little fires smoking on neighbourhood lawns in the early twilight of fall. The smell of burning leaves is indescribably powerful and earthy. There is even a perfume company that sells it as a fragrance. Here's a review from wonderful perfumista Now Smell This.

 Burning Leaves, another recent fragrance release from CB I Hate Perfume, is to my mind the perfect aromatherapy for the slacker personality, being both calming and invigorating at the same time.

This fire is a bit beyond the old burning leaves ones I remember, but I do love bonfires and the smell of smoke!

Some of the particular aromas perfuming the air this time of year come from trees. Helen noted on Twitter: "Katsura trees *do* smell like candyfloss in fall. Got my first whiff today." She remarked that the closer she got to the tree, the more the smell receded. The full aroma was experienced across the road where the full fragrance had wafted. Scents can be elusive.

The cottonwood tree smell is pungent, resinous, unmistakeable, and invigorating. The cottonwood tree that stood in my sister's garden perfumed a whole section of our neighbourhood in fall. Sadly, we smell it no longer, as the tree fell victim to a lightning strike. My trips to Cherry beach where many cottonwoods grow provide me with a hit of this favourite fall smell now.
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Wet leaves, fireplace smoke, mud, and that smell when you first turn on the furnace. Apparently some of that particular aroma comes from our own dust bunnies, partially made from sloughed off skin cells. A writer from Mental Floss offers these scent memories:

a particular smell I associate with the onset of fall — the smell of people’s first fireplace fires of the year. And somehow, last night everybody in my neighborhood got the memo and lit up. You can tell it’s the first fireplace fire in a long time, because there’s a weird wet twinge to the smoky odor 

fall smell from my year living in Philadelphia as a young child. There, I knew it was fall (okay, almost winter) when I’d smell the rotting Ginkgo leaves — a distinctive stink  

As fall turns to winter, one of the most wondrous scents of all begins to arrive, the Christmas Tree Lot smell. Get it while it's fresh, this time of November is perfect. I practically swooned walking into the evergreen-filled lot of Fiesta Gardens the other day.

Porcelain vine: Might need careful handling

Oh, how I love those mouthful names: Ampelopsis brevipedunculata

Its pretty, many-coloured blue and purple berries give porcelain vine its name. I had one of these members of the grape family – the one with the variegated leaves – in the wrong spot in my garden. Please note the use of the past tense. It's a lovely vine "when well grown." I couldn't resist snapping a shot of these at the Wychwood Barns.

But, drat! Unfortunately, it's another lovely non-native vine, like Hall's honeysuckle (Lonicera japonica 'Halliana'), that's a little too free with its seeding habits. Birds and critters eat the berries and sprinkle the seeds around with their doings. In the right conditions, these fast-growing vines can get a stranglehold on native spaces.

In many states of New England, immediately across the Great Lakes, Ampelopsis is classed as an invasive exotic species. In Ontario, it's on the watch list [PDF]. Warmer parts of the province might be most at-risk. With warming lake-effect and sheltered microclimates, that includes pockets of the city.

So please be careful, especially if you live near wild areas, as many of us in Toronto do. Little shards of porcelain vine would not be great to have flying off (and up) in unwanted directions.

Soiled & Seeded: Cultivating garden culture online

The inaugural issue of the Soiled & Seeded garden zine

Canadian gardeners who want more than how-tos from their garden reading now have a new zine on the scene. The first issue of Soiled & Seeded launched this month. It's worth bookmarking.

The zine is a project of Toronto-based non-profit Soiled & Seeded Natural Heritage Explorations, created by botanist Barbara Ozimec and geographer (and photographer) Mikaël Lavogiez. The group's stated mission sounds admirable to me. They're dedicated:

"to advancing the connection between human beings and the environment through promoting a deeper understanding of our natural heritage."

I liked what I saw in issue one. For example, there's a thoughtful interview with Laura Reinsborough of Not Far From the Tree and a profile of organic farmer Pat Kozowyk. You'll find a plant profile of my love-to-hate Tree of Heaven (Ailanthus altissima) and a story of Barbara's experience delving into 14th century monastery garden manuscripts. There's also a link to their blog. The approach is a touch more scholarly and eclectic than your typical garden mag, while still being accessible and engaging.

Their current call for submissions is for their January issue. I look forward to seeing where it takes us.

Hidden Gardens: Toronto's Alleyways

Finding hidden gardens is always a sneaky treat. Sometimes they arrive all by themselves, or with help from humans, in tucked away places, like Toronto's famous back alleys.

These alleyways, constructed in many Toronto neighbourhoods to facilitate access to garages, usually extend the length of a block. There is something so timeless about walking down one of these hidden thoroughfares, away from traffic and noise. I love seeing the back view of the city. Everything is a little messy, a little countrified, because nature has had her way with the space. It's the kind of mess I like. When dog walking I'll often detour into the alley. It makes a walk more like an adventure.

When was the last time this garage door was slid open, I wonder. 

Not only do we find wildflowers, wild vines and weeds galore, but we see garden delights peeking up over the fences here and there. A vine threatens to engulf a car here. It's a taste of what happens to humans' "stuff" when nature takes over what we leave behind.

This painted door is especially fun to encounter on a gloomy day. 

Garage doors line the alleys, painted different colours, in various states of disrepair or fastidious renovation. Sometimes a cheerfully whimsical painted mural will appear.

It's like Richard Florida's "messy urbanism" in a citified country stroll, and is part of what makes Toronto, Toronto.

Jamie Oliver following in my footsteps

Little did I think that when I dropped by The Stop Community Food Centre Green Barn at the Wychwood Barns on Thursday that Jamie Oliver would be hot on my heels.

Sure enough, the super chef, food activist and all round cute guy visited The Stop the very next morning. Ah, my almost-brush-with-greatness.

In the article linked to above, Nick Saul, The Stop's executive director, writes that Jamie Oliver was blown by The Stop and its programs:

'I showed him around and he was totally impressed by what we’re doing at The Stop. In fact, he told me he’d been all over the world and it was one of the coolest places he’d been.'

Great minds, and all that; I felt the same way.

The Stop started as a food bank, and now is one with a difference. It doesn't simply dispense food, it actively involves its community in choosing it, learning to grow it and, in its community kitchen, to cook it – helping the people it serves develop important skills. But it has become much more; a social hub for the community.

The first thing that impressed me about The Stop's Green Barn is how large and well equipped it is. The 3,000-square-foot greenhouse has everything needed to get growing.

I could almost hear the sound of seeds sprouting as I passed the tables.

The Green Barn and two community gardens produce 4,000 pounds of fresh, organic food a year for The Stop.

This enormous (Scotch bonnet?) pepper plant was still loaded down with fruit.

A rack of paper bags illustrates the best way to dry herbs. The paper bags keep off ambient dust and allow moisture to escape, while added holes enhance ventilation.

Volunteers are essential at The Stop. This table holds some of the perks. In the background a volunteer waters the greenhouse's mushroom-growing project.

This word cloud outside the kitchen door says it eloquently.

I encourage you to visit The Stop's website and read the FAQs. It is an amazing organization that deserves all the support it can get.

Which hazel? Witch-hazel

Guess which witch caught my eye while walking?

Are they witches' caps or gnomes? Whatever they are, they called to me (and my ever-present camera) from the shrubbery as I power-walked through our neighbourhood at 7:30 this morning.

Not till I started to move again did I realize which witch was witch-hazel… in this case, the native Hamamelis virginiana shrub making with the golden leaves and flowers above.

Hamamelis virginiana's threadlike blooms appear in autumn

H. virginiana blooms in fall, unlike the Asian witch-hazel hybrids I wrote about in March 2009. Those flowers appear before the leaves, making them quite showy, especially early in the year. The native shrub is much more soft-spoken. That's why I almost missed the flowers, hidden between leaves of a similar hue.

Interestingly, witch-hazel is neither witchy nor a hazel. "Witch" derives from the Old English "wych" referring to the pliable branches, sometimes used as "witching rods" for divining water, which is a kind of witchery in itself, I suppose. "Hazel" refers to the similarity of the leaf shape to the hazelnut or Corylus, which in fact is unrelated or very distantly so. (I had to look it up: They both belong to the Eudicot clade of Angiosperms. I know, you were just about to say that.) Instead, Hamamelis is a cousin of Fothergilla, another native shrub with wispy petals and great fall colour.

For more reading on witch hazel, you might enjoy this excellent article by Steven Foster or the useful pictures on Walter Muma's Ontario Trees and Shrubs. And when you're walking through your neighbourhood, keep your eyes open. You might catch this native shrub casting its gentle autumn spell.

November vegetables

Savoy cabbage is one of many cole crops that like a touch of frost.

With a few exceptions (we still have some carrots to harvest), we wrapped up our community garden plot back in October. But, next year, I won't be so hasty. The pictures here, snapped a day or so ago, are reminders that it's possible to keep things – the right things – going in the garden till well into the cooler weather.

Sure there are frost-tender babies like tomatoes and beans. Yet many leafy greens such as lettuce and spinach actually prefer the cool weather. Root veggies like my carrots are protected by their underground "root cellar." Some vegetables, notably those in the cabbage family (such as, well, cabbages and brussels sprouts) taste sweeter after being kissed by frost. Swiss chard, which is in the beet family, is also tolerant of frost.

Just look at the bounty going on in this garden in the first week in November: Chard, celery, romaine lettuce, cabbages, what looks like dandelion greens to my untrained eye, and a veritable forest of leeks. I think I even saw a few potatoes (explanation below)!

I've written about this veggie garden before, here and here. In this case, I'm guessing the panels on the fencing extend the season by screening the garden from the north winds and perhaps even retarding the frost (which might explain the potatoes). Nevertheless, if you have a garden plot, you have little to lose by giving late season crops a try. I know I'm going to.

Check for frost tolerance and early maturity when you're selecting your varieties – some are tougher than others. With a 60-day maturity, you could be planting things as late as late August or early September. Who knows? When you grow your own, you might even find you like brussels sprouts!

Toronto City Hall's green roof is worth the climb

With all the jackhammers and construction barriers at Nathan Phillips Square now, you might have missed seeing the new City Hall Podium Green Roof – especially as there's no signage at the bottom of the ramp to direct you up to the podium for a visit.

Too bad. Because the green roof is worth the small detour.

Where once there were over 3,250 square metres (35,000 square feet) of glaring white concrete, now there's an urban park. The rooftop plantings have settled in since the official opening in May 2010.

Best intentions aside, I wasn't among the 22,000 people who got a first look during May's Open Doors Toronto. My first viewing was only a few weeks ago. Although the rooftop terrain remains flat, albeit textural, the result is impressive.

Feather reed grass (Calamagrostis) ripples like water in the breeze.

As a young copywriter working kittycorner from here at Simpson's – as The Bay then was – I used to spend many a sunny lunch hour on the postage stamps of grass beside Nathan Phillips Square. I'd have loved a place like this, and hope that more people come to discover this pleasant oasis.

Benches offer unique views of Old City Hall and downtown skyscrapers

Apropos to the times, the green roof and overall city hall revitalization scheme were among the many expenditures originally opposed by Toronto's incoming mayor elect, Mr. Ford. We'll wait to see what happens after his December 1st swearing in.

I'll say nothing of politics here. I will say, though, that I wish it were as easy to find a residential green roof installer – for small homes like mine; I have just the roof for one – as to find one experienced with commercial, institutional and large condo buildings. Now that all new construction in Toronto (over a certain size) is compelled by bylaw to include a green roof, this green industry will boom.

Plantings are designed for seasonal change, with a strong base of sedums

For more about the largest publicly accessible green roof in Toronto, perhaps Canada, check out this profile from GreenRoofs.com. But go have a look for yourself. Bring your thermos.