Companion books to get you growing

Heard of companion planting? It's the concept of putting plants together – ones that attract pollinators, let's say, with fruiting plants that need pollinating. In that spirit, I've just read two books on vegetable growing that make perfect companions.

The first is Garden Rant-er Michele Owens' Grow the Good Life: Why a Vegetable Garden Will Make You Happy, Healthy, Wealthy, and Wise.  Part garden memoir, part historical perspective and down-to-earth analysis, her book is most of all a rallying cry for the many payoffs of growing your own.

It's also a mighty good read. Owens is feisty, funny, informed and clearly exasperated at the anxiety people feel when it comes to growing veggies. After two decades as a vegetable gardener, her bottom line, to paraphrase, is this: It's not as hard as you think! Do it. The rewards, even from a small plot, are immense.

In fact, despite its lack of pictures and typical how-tos (though packed with no-nonsense advice), Grow the Good Life got me so sexed up to have more vegetable space that I've been eyeing my rose arbor, imagining it draped in scarlet runner beans. Honestly. And why not? Owens convinced me that vegetables can be as beautiful as ornamentals, and in many ways more rewarding.

While she stresses that space shouldn't be a barrier, my Microgarden and 64 square feet of community garden don't compare to Owens' garden plot, whose square footage actually outmeasures my house.

This book, therefore, makes the ideal companion, Grow Great Grub: Organic Food from Small Spaces by Gayla Trail of You Grow Girl – which shows that you can carve out growing space, even from a sunny windowsill or coffee can planter. Trail takes you through it all: the soil, the space, the plants, and what to do with the harvest. And every vegetable she profiles includes useful info on its suitability for container culture.

In terms of editorial approach, the two books couldn't differ more. Trail's is packed with her own enticing photographs, detailed how-to info and recipes. Unlike Michele Owens', Gayla Trail's fields of toil have been small community garden plots, rooftops and fire escapes.

Yet, in terms of voice, the two authors are remarkably companionable. Like Owens, Trail is experienced, opinionated and straightforward. Both authors are equally encouraging. Owens got me all fired up, Trail told me what to do once I got there; both assured me how easy it could be.

According to The Old Farmer's Almanac, it's now about 10 weeks till Toronto's last frost. Plenty of time for reading, and rereading, as well as planning, seed shopping and sowing. Me and my winter-sown vegetables are more eager than ever to get growing.

Plants for Atlantic Gardens, and Toronto gardens, too

Don't be mislead by the title of Plants for Atlantic Gardens, Jodi DeLong's new book from Nimbus Publishing. Atlantic gardeners aren't the only ones who will find this book useful.

Sure, east-coasters deal with a harsher range of climates (as cold as Zone 0!) than we do in our part of the Golden Horseshoe (Zone 5-6). They're more likely to enjoy the protection of deep winter snow cover than we do in the city proper (Winter 2011, notwithstanding). Plus, coastal regions have salty air to add flavour to their garden woes.

However, DeLong's book, subtitled Handsome and Hard-working Shrubs, Trees and Perennials, is an excellent plant reference for anyone who gardens in a north-ish clime like ours.

The title gets this right: it's about plants – more than 100, most of which Toronto gardeners, given the right moisture and light conditions, can grow. All are generally tough and reliable. Some, such as Astilbe or Hydrangea, are tried and trues. Others, such as the shrubs chokeberry (Aronia), sea-buckthorn (Hippophae) or bayberry (Myrica), are under-used and worth our consideration. Each genus gets at least a couple of pages, with a summary of requirements, photos and recommended cultivars, if appropriate. DeLong is frank about pros and cons, so you can consider additions with open eyes.

The back of the book has a few plant lists for special conditions (deer-resistance, for example). I would have liked to see more of these lists. The list for salt- and drought-tolerance might have been broken into two, for example. The book organizes plants alphabetically. Interspersed are essays. When reading from cover to cover, the sprinkling made an interesting break, but I wonder how practical the irregular placement will be for quick reference in the future.

One essay was on garden bullies such as, you guessed it, goutweed. On that topic, at least one recommended plant might not be ideal in our slightly warmer zones. Berberis, a shrub with wonderful coloured foliage, has been flagged as borderline invasive in Zone 6b and above. It's best to double-check any plant for potential local problems before adding it to your garden. A plant you choose for the middle of the city might be inappropriate for a ravine lot.

But these are minor quibbles. DeLong, a garden writer for several media and a long-time blogger at Bloomingwriter, writes from her extensive experience in her large garden near the Bay of Fundy in Nova Scotia. Her engaging style is a good blend of science and practical know-how. Reading along is like spending time with an entertaining gardener who knows her stuff. I learned things – and added to my wish list – with just about every page. Plants for Atlantic Gardens is definitely see-worthy.

Trouble on the urban homestead: Is Canada safe?

A battle is waging in the green community south of the border. It isn't about chemical versus organic or genetically modified versus heirloom. It's about words, and who has the right to use them.

The words are urban homestead and urban homesteading – commonly applied to the growing movement (no pun) that covers front-yard veggies or back-yard chickens. As phrases, they've been seen in Battleground U.S.A. since the 1970s, if not before. You'll find them in book and blog titles and organization names, countrywide. In Canada, too.

Among urban homesteading's many proponents are California's Dervaes family. In fact, the Dervaeses have become pretty famous as urban homesteaders.

Or make that infamous.

For reasons that mystify me, and a slew of others, the U.S. Patent and Trademark Office recently granted the Dervaeses exclusive trademark rights to these terms. As a result, the family (or their legal advisors) has taken steps to restrict people from using them. They've shut down Facebook pages (including ones pre-dating the trademark) and sent warning letters to bloggers, authors, even a library.

The Dervaes family is not making friends by their actions. Sadly, they're squandering considerable goodwill. Right now, a Take Back Urban Home-steading(s) page on Facebook has over 4,000 members. Many are participating in an Urban Homesteaders Day of Action today, blanketing the e-waves with them thar words. There's also a Twitter hashtag, #DumptheDervaeses. Indeed, the tweet on the street is that the Electronic Frontier Foundation has taken up the cause on behalf of The Urban Homestead authors Kelly Coyne and Erik Knutzen in a sternly worded cease and desist letter to the Dervaeses.

Now, I'm unsure that my winter-sown tomato seeds class me as an urban homesteader. However, I am a writer who cares about words. That leads me to wonder: Could this happen in Canada?

It might be a grey area of green. Here's what the Canadian Intellectual Property Office has to say about trademarking descriptive phrases like this (italicized emphasis is mine):

Clearly descriptive marks

You may not register a word that describes an inherent feature of the goods or services, i.e., a word that is clearly descriptive.

For example, the words “sweet” for ice cream, “juicy” for apples, and “perfectly clean” for dry-cleaner services could not be registered as trade-marks. All good apples could be described as “juicy” and all ice cream as “sweet”; these are natural characteristics of the items. If you were allowed to register these words, no other apple sellers or ice cream vendors could use them to promote their goods; this would be unfair. But, again, if you can establish that “Sweet Ice Cream” has become so well-known that people will immediately think of your product (and no one else’s) when they read or hear these words, you may be allowed to register the trade-mark.

The Dervaeses made the case that people thought of their product (and no one else's) when they used urban homestead or urban homesteading – and they managed to win their trademark.

This war of words may seem small when so many are fighting serious infringements of rights in other parts of the world. But that's how revolutions spark. And you thought we gardeners were gentle folk.

Blooms Day: In February, make something from nothing

Not very promising for Blooms Day, eh? But don't go away. You might be surprised by how this story ends.

Yesterday's wind did a good job trimming branches from the trees, including these whips from a weeping willow. I wish I'd found more.

Because, with their flexibility and buttery colour, weeping willow whips make excellent material for flower arrangements. And they're free!

Gather as many as you can find, and twist them together into a loose rope. Then insert both ends into your vase to form an armature or framework for your flowers. With the armature in place, it will be easier for the flowers to stay where you've put them. Plus, the armature adds a little extra something to the design. Here's what I did with mine.

I learned to make something from nothing as an amateur floral design competitor in my local garden club. Floral design can often cost a bundle in fresh flowers. As I didn't have a bundle, but liked to play the game, I often used what I could find for free (or at reasonable cost).

For a design themed around clouds, for example, I used rhubarb flowers and leaves from my sister-in-law's garden, in blue glass vases. I thought they looked very cloudlike, and so did the judges.

For a foliage design (shown left), I used curly kale, red cabbage, rosemary and some fronds from a fern I already owned.

For a design called "Blast Off" (right), I scoured vacant lots around town for weeds. It won a Judge's Choice. (Please forgive the lousy images – they're hastily shot photos of bad photos.)

Keep your eyes open – and sometimes keep them on the ground – because you might find something humble you can use to great effect. I'm sure you already have ideas. Why not share them here?

For other ways to experience the garden in February, go straight over to May Dreams Gardens, where every 15th of every month Carol hosts a floral show and tell from bloggers worldwide.

Adventures in winter seeding

You're looking at a greenhouse. No, actually, you're looking at many teeny tiny greenhouses. Or, they will be, once we get through with them.

My Number One Dot and I have embarked on an adventure in winter seed starting, inspired and informed by the Garden Faerie blogger Monica Milla and Montreal garden blogger Dirt Gently. Links to them in a minute.

I normally have two problems with seed starting indoors. One: I live in a small house, too full of people, and without room for things like grow-light stands. Two: I have been known to kill almost any indoor plant, except for those that thrive on abuse.

Winter sowing sounds like the perfect solution for someone like me. It doesn't take up any room indoors. And, after a few easy steps at the start of the process, they require minimal monitoring... until the weather heats up. This year, I have my NOD at home to aid and abet.

Our how-to guide was Monica Milla's excellent 36-page booklet Fun with Winter Seed Sowing. Any container can work as a mini greenhouse, assures Monica, as long as it's translucent or can be fitted with a translucent lid. In our case, we harvested a basket full of 2L pop bottles from neighbours J and R. They needed to be washed (the bottles, that is; J and R are scrupulously clean) then sterilized by soaking in a bleach solution. As we had lots, we soaked them in the bathtub.

Using a sharp Exacto knife, we carefully cut the bottles open at about 10 cm/4" from the bottom, leaving a ligament of about 4 cm/1.5" to keep the top and bottom attached. It will act as a hinge between the two halves for ventilation or access to the seedlings later.

The bottle caps are left off for air circulation and watering, so they went into recycling.

We then drilled drainage holes in the base. Monica suggests using a corded (not cordless) drill for greatest power. However, Mr. TG being high-tech in the tool department (ahem), none of our drills have cords, and the rechargeable didn't have the oomph for the job.

In the end, we found my crafty NOD's Dremel to be the handiest for making holes. It was a snap.

At first, we drilled holes in the bumps at the base, but then thought that as the bottles sit right on these it might impede drainage. So we added holes in the dimples in between. If that ends up being too free-draining, we'll close some of the holes with tape.


Meanwhile, we've been moistening the potting soil with warm water. We selected a soil mix with compost, peat moss and perlite. The peat (which can hold up to 20X its own weight in water) helps retain moisture, and the compost provides soil nutrients for the seedlings.

Opening the package released a waft of earthy fragrance, which I paused to breathe it in. Ah, Spring! After a few light sprinklings of water, and a good kneading, with an hour or so for the water to be absorbed, the soil mix had that "crumbly as chocolate cake" quality. It was moist enough to clump together lightly when squeezed, but wasn't soaking wet.

We added the soil to a depth of at least 5 cm/2" at Monica's recommendation. In three of the bottles, we used cardboard toilet paper rolls, cut in half, as our plant "pots," soaking them first in water. In the remaining bottles, we simply placed the soil in the bottom of the bottle.

Here's what we planted – deliberately selecting seeds for veggies that would typically be started indoors:

Tomatoes, an Italian type called 'Cour di Bue', a black tomato called 'Pierce's Pride' and 'Aunt Ruby's German Green,' all from Baker Creek Heirloom Seeds; as is the 'Purple Beauty' pepper.

From Botanical Interests, a cherry tomato called 'Sugar Sweetie,' a 'Japanese Soyu' cucumber, and 'Parris Island Cos' romaine lettuce.

We are also trying 'Lemon' cucumber from Irish Eyes Garden Seeds whose slogan is "Short Seasons Seeds for an Early Harvest."

After planting, and marking each set with a Sharpie (hoping it won't fade), we sealed the cut edges of the bottles with clear duct tape – using multiple shorter pieces to make partial ventilation a little easier when the weather warms up and requires it. Then outside our mini greenhouses went to the back porch.

We'll keep our eyes on them to make sure they aren't blown over or don't dry out. If the soil starts to look too light in colour, we can add water through the hole at the top. Condensation on the inside of the bottle is a positive sign that things are chugging along as they should.

Monica assures us that the seeds will remain dormant till Mother Nature wakes them up. The NOD and I are extremely excited about our babies.

You can buy Monica Milla's book though this link. It's very good investment, loaded with info.

And this link takes you to the first installment in a 3-part Wintersowing Saga, with more how-tos and photos, by Montrealer Dirt Gently, who is considerably more adventuresome than we've been when it comes to plant varieties. So far, at any rate. We still have sterilized bottles, soil and flower seeds that might be given a go. Stay tuned.

Finley keeps an eye on our bottles, watching for marauding squirrels and other critters.

Take that, winter! A foretaste of spring

Just to remind you that spring will be springing soon... because we're just fed up with winter.

These photos were captured on Mother's Day 2010 at the Royal Botanical Gardens in Burlington

Drink in all that voluptuous colour. Don't worry about the species or cultivar now.

Although the dark purple Tulipa 'Queen of the Night' does look lovely with her pink ladies-in-waiting.

These parrot tulips can talk. They're saying, "Soon be spring!"

The garden is getting out its lipstick under the snow, all ready to dress up for the party. Happy Friday!

The Aptly Named Hell Strip

I'd been gardening on it for almost 10 years before I knew these garden spaces actually had a name: The Hell Strip. And suddenly all my challenges made sense. Yep, I've been trying to garden on a little strip o' hell.

For those of you unacquainted with the "hell strip" it's a long garden space bordered on both sides by either a road or a concrete walkway. Some are obviously hell-like, in full baking sun. Mine, however, is in dappled shade, which led me to think it might be a fairly hospitable place for cultivation.

"Ha!" chuckled the dark denizens of hell as I got out my spade.

Many years ago someone had optimistically dug all the grass from the strip and had planted bulbs. These did fairly well the first year, and when I got hold of the space I had high hopes, but I soon learned what I was up against. My hell strip is shady, filled with sandy, what I laughingly call "soil". This "soil" is filled with tree roots from oft cursed Norway maples. It's the definition of a challenging space. Here's what I've learned about my hell strip over the years:

1. Bags of manure that I pile on the strip disappear, possibly melting through the earth's crust and showing up somewhere in Australia.

2. Lady's Mantle, Alchemilla mollis, if planted in large drifts, with the hope that masses of flowers will frothily cascade onto the sidewalk, will actually drift away never to be seen again.

3. The surface tension of the soil has sort of a magnetic effect, and by magnetic effect, I mean the other side of the magnet that repels things. Water sprinkled onto the soil surface trips lightly over it and rushes to the safe haven of the concrete on either side.

4. Certain plants hang around. Oh, they don't actually grow or increase, but as they're hanging onto life, I still have hope. But every year they get a little bit smaller and a little bit smaller. They sing softly to me as I pass by, "We gotta get outa this place. If it's the last thing we eh-ver do."

5. Worms shun the hell strip. But snails hang around in large gangs. Hostas say: "Hosta la vista!"

There is some good news though. Here are my surprising hell strip successes:

1. Shasta daisies, Leucanthemum 'unknoweum', inexplicably, thrive and bloom like crazy. As you can see by the photo at left, they are spreading into a reasonable clump. I'm completely puzzled by this.

2. Rudbeckia triloba (seen in leaf at the top of the column) manages to grow and blooms faithfully at the end of every summer. Also self seeds. Yes, it's a bit weedy, but it's green and the flower clusters of small, yellow, black-eyed Susans on sturdy stems are cheerful when not much else is blooming.

3. Lamium maculatum (the variegated leaf shown just behind the rudbeckia, above) grows like crazy and blooms reliably through spring and early summer. Yes, it's a bit boring, but can't argue with that kind of success, and the leaves are attractive all year.

4. Perennial foxgloves - Digitalis lutea - manages to grow and flower, in unexpected places. This is a charming little plant (with spikes of tiny, creamy yellow foxglove flowers) that I have nothing bad to say about.

5. Columbine, Aquilegia, have planted themselves happily here and there, and for a short while in spring, look lovely.

So, my lesson here is to plant more of what works, and to rescue what's left of the ones that are desperately singing songs of escape. Sadly, the rest of my garden is no plant picnic either: same soil, same shade. Hmm, maybe my rescues can go into the guerrilla garden across the road....

Speaking of precipitation: Cheap rain barrels

And by "cheap," I mean "a really, really good bargain." The Toronto Master Gardeners has teamed with the Toronto Botanical Garden to sell these rain barrels with a neat history.

They're former food product containers that once travelled the world holding things like olive oil. Now, thanks to a Canadian company, they're fully rigged up with all the fittings to serve a new life harvesting rainwater. And just $55.

That's a great price for you, a great little workhorse for your garden, and a great fund-raiser for the green, growing, good works of the TMGs and TBG.

If you don't like the lovely terracotta version shown here, they also come in grey or black. Each is a 220 litre/55 US gallon barrel that includes filter basket, spigot, nipple, over-flow adaptor and 4 feet of overflow hose.

Order yours directly through this link (to benefit the groups) and it will be ready for pick-up from the parking lot of the Toronto Botanical Garden on Saturday, April 23rd. Do it now, while precipitation is top of mind.