2025 Garden Report

Our garden this year is a bit more chaotic than it has been, mainly because I'm working about eighteen hours a week and dog-walking another eight or nine, and those things eat up a lot of gardening time. But things grow whether I'm paying attention or not, and we've been enjoying produce as it comes. This morning I picked a gallon of beans (5 gallons last week), pruned and watered the tomatoes and squash plants, and marveled at how high some of the weeds got before I pulled them (there are still too many to count)! Oh, the dill!

Last night we tasted our first onion, peppers, and potatoes fried together (yum). I took a huge caesar salad to the Inner City Pastoral Ministry Men's and Women's hot dog roast and picnic two weeks ago, I've got cauliflower in the freezer (the broccoli bolted while we were on vacation in early July), and the peas (snap and snow) are pretty much finished. I'll have plenty of climbing beans, the cucumbers are coming on, and I've managed to keep the pumpkins from growing through the fence into the neighbour's yard.  I'll have lots of seed for next year's tobacco, and though the corn seems a bit stunted, we may get a feed or two. My one regret is that I didn't plant enough carrots, but what can you do? It was a busy spring.

Berry wise, the raspberries, haskaps and domestic Saskatoon (service) berries have been outstanding. I'm still working on improving our strawberry bed -- so there won't be any strawberry jam this summer -- but maybe I can make pear/rhubarb jam instead. It was a big hit this past winter.

Now that I'm too busy to spend a lot of extra time weeding, my husband and kids are making suggestions about how to downsize our garden, but what I'd really like is a bit more help. Jay has a friend who might come and work with me for $20 an hour, and I'm sure we could make a big dent in the disorder together. But in the meantime, I'm enjoying having the ability to share produce, embracing the lushness of it all, and looking forward to good eating!

Don't mind the chaos! Click here for this year's 3-minute video garden report, or watch below. And if you're itching to get your hands into the dirt, I'd love to garden with you. There's so much to do!

Sunday Reflection: Five loaves to twelve baskets

Today's reflection is brought to you by

Saskatoon berry-picking moon,
according to Indigenous (Blackfoot) wisdom
and there was an abundance this year!

John 6:13.

The disciples

(most of them)

are incredulous.

Feed all these people

with 5 loaves and 2 fish?

Are we really any different, 

though we know how the story ends?

We behave as if our Creator

has been stingy with creation.

We squirrel things away

for ourselves,

forgetting that none of it

really belongs to us.

But what if we all sat down 

and shared what you've given us

equitably?

It might be hard to imagine, 

but imagine we must.

Bless us,

O Lord,

for these your gifts

which we have received

through your bounty

have been hoarded

even though

Christ

was trying to teach us

to let all your goodness

flow through our hands

so that no one is in need.

Bless us

with open eyes, 

hands,

and hearts,

that we may share

your good creation

as you intended us to.

Once we adopt your sense of abundance,

we'll have many more

than twelve baskets of left overs!

Help us to live out, 

put out and act from

a deeper belief

in your abundance for all.

+Amen

Patience, birds!

When we arrived home on Friday after a two-week journey to visit family and friends in the BC lower mainland and on Vancouver Island, it quickly became apparent that if I didn't act quickly, this year's Saskatoon berry crop would be history. We have an abundance of juvenile magpies, blue jays and robins once again this year, and on Saturday morning, a bold bird with a red breast raided our berry patch with me not five feet away.

Suzanna and I pulled out what scraps of green netting I had (after using most of it for a sweet pea trellis) and did our best to wrap the tree, but not an hour later, the robin had found his way under the netting for another sweet feast. 

So this morning, catching a blue jay sitting on top of the netting with a saucy look in her eye, as if she was daring me to do something about her raiding of the berries, I took drastic action. Even though it would be better to wait another week and let them ripen further, I got a pail and started picking the biggest, ripest ones. 

Several robins and at least three blue jays came by to scold me. Telling them to be patient, that I just wanted my share, and that I would leave plenty for them, I picked enough for a pie (two if I add rhubarb) or maybe I'll just put them in my smoothies for a week or two. At any rate, I pulled down the netting as I went, so the birds have free reign now.

There are still many berries, but they're not as ripe as the ones I picked. My flying friends will have to be patient for a few days if they want sweet black ones again. I learned, after a year when the birds got them all, that if I take my half first, there's still enough for everyone to enjoy.

Poor old pear tree

You might remember that about a year ago, I was singing the pear tree blues. Well, one year later, I'm still singing them.

Last year we had the tree treated for fire blight, and this summer, we're not sure how it's doing. But there were a lot of dead twigs and branches, and Lee learned that July is a good time to prune a pear tree, so we did our best to remove the dead parts of the tree.

Usually, from what I've read, it's not good to cut more than one-third of a tree in any one pruning, so we've always erred on the side of caution -- perhaps to the tree's detriment. In taking out the dead stuff this summer (three weekends worth of work) I'm sure we took more than one-third. Sometimes you have to be cruel to be kind.

To be fair, the tree was quite overgrown, even before we came to it. The previous owners were elderly and had let the yard go, and we didn't know the first thing about fruit trees. But arborists say that you should be able to throw a hat through a well pruned fruit tree so that it doesn't get caught in the branches. Our tree had so many criss-crossing limbs that it would have been hard to throw a ball through it. So we pruned it hard this year, to get rid of the fire blight remnants and give it some breathing space. There wasn't much fruit on it this year.

I did some research and learned that most pear trees don't live more than 50 years... and we're guessing that, since our home was built around 65 years ago, the tree is close to its end. It breaks my heart to think that we may have to take it down. 

Not only is the fruit delicious, it provides a lovely shaded place just outside our kitchen window, a place where many friends have joined me for under-the-pear-tree visits on warm spring, summer, or autumn afternoons. Stunning spring blossoms have filled our yard with fragrance, and I've loved listening to the bees appreciate the tree too.

So I have been babying the tree as best I can, giving it lots of water in these last hot-weather weeks, and I've wrapped my arms around it more than once and thanked it for its beauty and shade. I hope it will survive, but if it has reached the end of its life cycle, it has certainly blessed us with undeserved bounty. 

And for that, I am forever grateful.

Thoughts for a Thursday

Most mornings I read the daily meditation that comes from the Centre for Action and Contemplation. This morning's carried a beautiful reflection from the thoughts of activist and mystic, Rosemarie Freeney Harding:

There is no scarcity. There is no

An abundance of roses on a single stem

shortage. No lack of love,

of compassion, of joy in the world.

There is enough.

There is more than enough.

Only fear and greed make us think 

otherwise.

No one need starve. There is enough 

land and enough food.

No one need die of thirst. There is

enough water. No one

need live without mercy. There is no 

end to grace. And we

are all instruments of grace. The

more we give it, the more

we share it, the more we use it, the

more God makes. There

is no scarcity of love. There is plenty.

And always more.

-- Rachel E. Harding, "Daughter's Precis," 

forward to Remnants: A Memoir of Spirit, Activism, and Mothering

(Durham, NC: Duke University Press, 2015), [ix].

Let's live always with this kind of abundance and plenty in mind!

Morning meditation: God's abundant, sun-kissed beauty

And breakfast as a bonus!

 

Sunday reflection: A prayer for the common good

Today's reflection is brought to you by
Romans 5:1-8.

You are our peace,
O God.

Your grace is our hope.

Even in our sufferings,
hope in you will
teach us to endure,
to become who we are meant to be,
to live toward your glory
for the sake of all your creation.

Our weakness has been strengthened in you,
because you have poured your abundant love
over us and all your creation.

That is the reason for our hope!

Remind us
in this time of crisis
that we are to act in the best interests
of our world community,
in the best interests of all that you have made.

Protect us from anxiety
and lead us to generosity.

Bless those
whose health and energies are most severely affected
by this pandemic,
and especially,
those who care for them.

May our prayer and care
fill them with your hope and strength!

Make us mindful of the good of all beings
as we move ahead,
aware that we are deeply connected
to all that you have made.

Help us to share your abundance,
your hope,
and to love one another
in all that we do.

+Amen

* * * * * * *

This has been a challenging week as we've gone from life as we always knew it to "a new normal," in the words of our local Chief Medical Officer of Health. It's a new normal that fits with a lot of our voluntary Lenten practices --  except now we are involuntarily giving up many sources of entertainment -- sports, theatre, dining out, community recreation, etc.

The list of closures and cancellations for local events and venues is growing daily, and we find ourselves using words like "social distancing" and "self-isolation." Our lives are being pared down more severely than we would choose. But rather than take these things as deprivation, why not translate them into personal "retreat"?

These changes are necessary in order to "flatten the curve" that is this pandemic known as COVID-19 so that we can cope with an illness that threatens us all in the weeks and months ahead. We don't want to overwhelm our healthcare systems by all getting sick at the same time.

I won't deny the fact that changes like these produce anxiety -- change at any time is a challenge. But I'm trying to see what's happening as a wake-up call for our human race, an opportunity to step back from the hectic, high-stress societies we have created, and to recognize that it's not our jobs or our possessions that give us value, but who we are and how we care for one another. I'm thinking especially of the people in Sicily, singing together from their balconies. I think they have the right idea.

If there is a silver lining to all this, it might be that in stepping back, we will find better ways to care for the common good of all creation. We can learn to be more generous, to seek out those in need and offer assistance in many different ways. Mainly, being a source of calm and care.

So I'm not writing about Laudato Si: On Care for Our Common Home this weekend. Instead, I'm thinking and praying about this pandemic, and recalling the last few lines of St. Francis' Canticle of Creation, from which Pope Francis took his encyclical's title. These lines remind us of our mortality and call us to patience and peace, just as this pandemic does. These are Francis' words:

Praised be You,

my Lord,

through those who give pardon for your love

and bear infirmity and tribulation.

Blessed are those who endure in peace

for by you,

Most High,

they shall be crowned.

Praised be You, 

my Lord,

through our Sister Bodily Death

from whom no one can escape....

Blessed are those 

whom death will find 
in your most holy will,

for the second death 
will do them no harm.

I praise and bless my Lord

and give you thanks

and serve you with great humility.

For all those who will not make it through this pandemic, for all leaders and caregivers, and for all of us, that we remain in God's peace and grace and hope!

+Amen.

Sunday Reflection: Abundance

Today's reflection is brought to you by Psalm 145:16 and John 6:1-15.

The little one had five loaves and two fish,
and he heard the master ask Phillip
where to buy bread.

"You can have mine,"
the boy said,
and my fish,
because Mom
always packs me too much!"

"Perfect," Jesus thinks,
"this one understands."

God always packs us too much lunch.
God's goodness to us
is superabundant,
but our primitive fears
cause us to hoard what we have
until others go hungry
and abundance rots
from disuse.

Your world,
O God,
suffers from its abundance
and our greed.

"You open your hand to feed us, Lord,
you satisfy all our needs,"
sings the psalmist.

There are so many raspberries,
they fall to the ground for want of picking.

There is an abundance of food to go around,
but no free access to it.

Our lives and homes are full to overflowing
and too often,
we can't find
a sense of meaning or purpose.

The fact that
we have extra loaves in our freezer
while the poor have none
should wake us up
to what we need to do.

What if we could trust in your abundance,
in your love for us,
and let the resources allotted to us
flow through our hands
as delicious dishes
are passed from one to another
at your great banquet table?

Quiet our sense of scarcity,
O God,
and let the abundance of your love
allow us to give away
our five loaves and two fish
for the good of all.

+Amen.

A harvest psalm

Evans cherries --
Thanks to my sisters for letting us pick!

You, O God,
are generous
beyond our understanding,
and abundant in love
beyond our belief.
We give you thanks
for the richness
and goodness of your creation
with which we have been blessed.
Help us to appreciate
the wealth in our midst
and put it to good use,
remembering
that we cannot lay claim to anything
except to share it
with those who hunger and thirst.
We praise you
for the abundance of your lavish love,
and we ask that it flow through us
to those who need it the most.

+AMEN.

Fruitfulness encore

I didn't make it back to the French-lady-with-the-plums' house last night, so the dog and I went this morning. She was in her back yard, and was delighted to see me. She told me I should have brought un plus grand panier instead of my little icecream pail, and invited me to pick from her tree.

It took me a minute to figure out how to turn off her sprinkler, which had made the tree very wet. I was dripping by the time I had a pail full of plums fantastiques, but oh, it was worth it! I thanked her again, promising to bring her a pailful of pears la prochaine semaine, when they are ripe. After trying to explain about one of her other trees, she brought me four little Mirabelles, as she called them -- tiny, very sweet golden plums, and wished me une bonne journée.

The fruitfulness of autumn can sometimes lead to fruitful friendships. Don't you just love it??

Harvesting in the dark

My hubby and I attended the annual Master Composter/Recycler appreciation event night last night (some of my colleagues were appreciated for 1,000 hours of volunteering!) and when we got home at 8 p.m., we decided that we'd better bring in as much garden produce as we could. The temperature was supposed to dip to 2 degrees Celcius last night, and when it goes below 3, I get nervous. There's frost on the roofs this morning, but I think the garden would have been safe. Oh well.

As it got darker and darker, Lee helped me to pick cukes, pumpkins, the larger tomatoes, one zucchini, and we covered the cherry tomatoes. It was a little crazy working with no harvest moon in sight, with only the back alley light to help us to see. We may have missed a few veggies, but even so, it was kinda fun. After an hour of work, here's what we brought in.

We're wondering if the green pumpkins might be because we planted them next to the cukes. If a bee pollinates cukes and then pumpkins, do we end up with a cucumber/pumpkin cross? A cucumkin? A pumcumber? Hee hee. My neighbour seems to think it will be an odd tasting thing, but I'm not so sure. I guess we'll have to see if the green ones turn orange over the next month. They have a slight orange tinge around the edges.

The top two pails have oregano and basil for the spaghetti sauce I plan to make today with the three gallons of red tomatoes I've been keeping in our freezer. There's enough help in the Clothing Room that I've let them know that I'll work at home this morning, and do one last Terry Fox walk with my youngest daughter at school this afternoon (next year she'll be in Junior High, and parents aren't invited any more, sigh).

Next week I'll probably have enough red tomatoes for another batch of salsa. Maybe there will be one more batch of dill pickles... and some zucchini loaf -- or zucchini brownies? Oh, the possibilities are endless! Especially since there are three more zucchinis on my counter. Do you have any special zucchini recipes to share??

It's been another abundant garden year; thank you, God! There's more work cut out for me, but I don't mind... it will be lovely to taste summer's goodness in mid-winter!