Coming from a long line of talented gardeners, I assumed that moving to Vancouver Island was an opportunity to shine. After all, you can grow almost anything in this wonderful climate, right?
But while I inherited a love for gardening, the talent seems to have skipped a generation. The result of my handiwork tends to be less a garden and more a hospice for plants.
Calculations on how much could be grown in a garden didn鈥檛 take into consideration the need for two key ingredients: soil and water. But when you live on a rock 鈥� which we basically do 鈥� you have to import the soil. And with no snow-covered mountains above us to regenerate the aquifer, the flow to our well has its limits. We have to be judicious about where we apply water.
Buy dirt? Somehow, that seems wrong.
But buy dirt we did, bags and bags of it. We composted and mixed and tilled last year, and were rewarded with a rich harvest of tomatoes, some the size of golf balls, some the size of marbles and a whole bunch of little ones. I can brag to my gourmet friends about eating tomatoes that cost about $60 a pound.
We have fruit trees 鈥� cherries, apples, pears, plums and figs 鈥� and the deer, jays, squirrels, racoons and cottontail rabbits are appreciative. At least, I think they are. It would be nice if they would leave thank-you notes when they strip the leaves and fruit from the branches and the bark from the trunks. If this keeps up, my plan for living off the land might have to include recipes for venison and rabbit stew.
For some reason, none of the critters has bothered the figs yet. We got about 20 figs off the tree last year, but it鈥檚 doing much better this year. It鈥檚 amazing what a little bit of digging, water and compost can do.
The fig tree had a near miss during a storm in June when a fierce burst of wind split the tree, and one of the two main branches hung to the ground. I rushed out with tape, plastic wrap, string, poles for a splint, and hastily reassembled the tree, knowing it would be a miracle if the broken branch survived.
Miracles happen. The repair job is ugly, but the tree survived and is thriving. We picked a dozen figs off that branch a few days ago, and plenty more are ripening. I鈥檝e had suggestions on what to make with figs, but so far, haven鈥檛 found anything that beats eating them while they are still warm from the sun.
This year is generally shaping up to be a better year than last, garden-wise, as we learn how to work with the soil, the climate and the geology.
It doesn鈥檛 make sense, if you do the math 鈥� the money we spend on soil, seeds and other gardening supplies would buy a lot of produce from the Island鈥檚 excellent markets and grocery stores. But math doesn鈥檛 account for the taste of a vine-ripened tomato or the satisfaction of going out into the garden, no matter how modest, and harvesting food that goes right to the table.
Nature has her own way of balancing the books.
Speaking of nature, I have been looking around to see what thrives on its own, with the idea of cultivating plants that grow well in our bipolar climate, something that enjoys soggy winters and summer drought. The most prolific plants on our property are Himalayan blackberries and Scotch broom, both of which I have been trying to eradicate.
Sure, the blackberries produce edible fruit, but in our yard, most of it grows just out of reach among a tangle of bloodthirsty vines. Picking berries becomes a life-threatening experience. A friend let me sample some of his thornless blackberries, and I might try to grow some of those.
Regardless of how much we grow, we harvest a lot from our gardening efforts. It鈥檚 healthful and uplifting to be working in the fresh air with soil and growing things.
Now if someone could figure out a way to eat Scotch broom, I could feed the world.
