In May 2011, after four years of life on McNutt's Island, we moved to Montreal. This blog remains, though, as a (sort of) daily record of our time on the island, and a winding path for anyone who would like to meander about among its magical places. For additional perspectives and insights I recommend Greg's book, Island Year: Finding Nova Scotia (2010), and my Bowl of Light (2012). I'll continue to post once in a while. If you do want to read this blog, one option would be to begin at the beginning of it (which is, as we all know, in blog-world, at the end), and read forward, concluding with the most recent entry. It's a journal, really, so it does makes more sense if you read it that way. But, you know, read it any way you like.

Monday, June 28, 2010

foggy Monday

A cool, foggy day with a bit of rain. Just right for the garden.I still feel as if I don't have the garden rhythm down, yet. Maybe that will take a few years.
The peas and the mustard and lettuces and chard and potatoes are all coming along, though.
Maybe next year I'll only grow peas and mustard and lettuces and chard and potatoes.
Something is stealing away the strawberries just at the moment of their ripening. I wonder what it could be. I hung some of the herring net over the berry bed, thinking the incursion was the work of my usual suspects, the birds. But I must have been wrong. The strawberry thief --whoever it is --slips right through the net, no doubt with a superior sort of smile on its little face. Perhaps it has magical powers. Certainly it possesses an excellent sense of timing.I'm trying to grow tomatoes, peppers, eggplant, and cucumber in old five-gallon plastic pails in the greenhouse. I'm curious to see how that will go.
I've got some oregano and basil in there, too.
While I was in the garden some ewes and lambs came into the back orchard. I become invisible to them when I'm behind the garden fence, so it's easy to spy on them from there.
They were feeling peaceful, anyway, with their mother nearby, and didn't mind my watching them.
In fact, they were curious enough to stop what they were doing -- eating -- and watch me watching them.


Kathy said...

Hang in there with your garden. It takes many years to find a rhythm as every year is different. Only you will find your rhythm in your unique corner of the world.

We had a lizard, a blue tongued intruder, eating our strawberries. He only ate the ripe ones too. Since he also eats our garden pests we let him stay. He was sitting unhappily in the strawberry patch one day with a grass seed lodged in his eye. We gently pulled it out and washed his eye with cool saline. He stays now. He likes it here.

Your strawberry thief might also be a shy friend in disguise.

Piecefulafternoon said...

Wonderful day - wonderful garden. I find that each year some crops do better than others, and it changes, just like the wild flowers are more prolific some years than others. Just nature's rhythm.