Batten Down the Fence Posts
Who might have believed that a mere week ago winter was blasting all thoughts of spring out of existence here in eastern Ontario, yet for the past four days we've been basking in bright sunshine and above-average temperatures. All in the space of one week, we're suddenly confronted with hauling out the garden furniture, raking up the grass, coddling the miniature irises, the crocuses, incredulous that all those perennials are already poking their bright red snouts out of the garden.
Simply amazing. But then, that's the kind of thrilling weather events we host here in Canada; wait a few minutes and everything changes. Thing is, we forget this from year to year. We forget that April which can ring in so beautifully with the promise of better things to come for winter-weary residents, can suddenly and spitefully urge winter's return, just to let us know who is really in control here. Lest we become too complacent. Heaven forfend.
With a high temperature of 25 degrees and full sunshine it seemed a tad - shall I admit it? - h.o.t. here in the nation's capital. We're quite simply not accustomed to it. Our little dogs were thrilled to soak up the sun in the morning, but by afternoon they were panting and jostling between them to get into the relative coolness of the house. They'd better get used to it, because there's more on the way - not too soon, though.
We're headed back to the normal temperatures for this time of year, reasonable 14-, and 15-degrees, with rain optional and sun probable, and vice versa. I've spent several hours the last several days yanking the occasional weed and grass plug out of my gardens, turning up the soil a bit to bury the compost, and assessing what's going on here and there in the various beds and borders.
How can I describe the bliss of shovelling and raking the garden soil, cutting back dead branches, gently shoving uplifted perennials back into their welcoming soil beds? And the sun, blessing the top of my grey head, my back. How wonderful it feels to exercise one's limbs in the garden, to the extent that memory of how it felt as a teen with nimble limbs floods over me, and I celebrate the fact that, in fact, nothing much has changed in that department.
Or so it would seem. And because it was so wonderful out we sought out so many things that we could do in the out-of-doors. Including cleaning off the deck, which my husband does yearly with an innocuous peroxide-based bleach agent, using a long-handled scrub brush to take away all that accumulation from the winter snows and summer moister to bring the pine boards back to their raw clean look once again.
And when it dried, hauling all the deck furniture out of the garden shed, including that most favourite piece of all, for me, the glider. I anticipate many happy and comforting hours of sitting on that glider, reading the newspapers, revelling in the clemency of the weather. Oops, forget to mention the wind. Lots of wind today. Really, I mean it; wind that makes you sit up and take notice. Or knocks you over.
In fact, while I was busy lifting one of our peonies because it tends to pout and not bloom as a result of being a little too deeply ensconced in the garden soil, I was alarmed at the sound of a huge clunk, and looked about to try to determine what had occasioned it. My husband lifted his head momentarily from the work he had at hand, but nothing presented itself as an explanation.
The bits and pieces of garden stuff, like winter blankets and rose cones that had been placed temporarily outside of the garden shed while he hauled out the furniture had blown about everywhere in the backyard and I was kept busy retrieving the pieces from the garden. Then another one of those loud clunks and as I looked up and through the slats of the back fence I realized what it was, as I witnessed another block of fencing fall flat onto the property of the fence owner.
There was a huge open gap between two neighbours, as it became obvious that two large blocks of fencing had submitted to the thrust of the high winds, exposing each backyard completely to the other. The two backyard neighbours in question, backing onto ours and our neighbour's backyards, comprised of young families with very young children have never, to my knowledge as much as passed a half-dozen words between themselves, in the five years they have lived side by side.
Better late than never. They can introduce themselves to one another, and get to work together building a new fence. Or not. What's with these people? One a Francophone family with two little girls, the other an Anglophone family with an infant. They live right next door to one another, after all. Granted the Francophones are pretty loud and noisy, but you don't get to choose your neighbours, usually.
Nice day, though. Glad we've got so many good neighbours on our own street, along with some on the street behind with whom we can chat and enjoy life.
Simply amazing. But then, that's the kind of thrilling weather events we host here in Canada; wait a few minutes and everything changes. Thing is, we forget this from year to year. We forget that April which can ring in so beautifully with the promise of better things to come for winter-weary residents, can suddenly and spitefully urge winter's return, just to let us know who is really in control here. Lest we become too complacent. Heaven forfend.
With a high temperature of 25 degrees and full sunshine it seemed a tad - shall I admit it? - h.o.t. here in the nation's capital. We're quite simply not accustomed to it. Our little dogs were thrilled to soak up the sun in the morning, but by afternoon they were panting and jostling between them to get into the relative coolness of the house. They'd better get used to it, because there's more on the way - not too soon, though.
We're headed back to the normal temperatures for this time of year, reasonable 14-, and 15-degrees, with rain optional and sun probable, and vice versa. I've spent several hours the last several days yanking the occasional weed and grass plug out of my gardens, turning up the soil a bit to bury the compost, and assessing what's going on here and there in the various beds and borders.
How can I describe the bliss of shovelling and raking the garden soil, cutting back dead branches, gently shoving uplifted perennials back into their welcoming soil beds? And the sun, blessing the top of my grey head, my back. How wonderful it feels to exercise one's limbs in the garden, to the extent that memory of how it felt as a teen with nimble limbs floods over me, and I celebrate the fact that, in fact, nothing much has changed in that department.
Or so it would seem. And because it was so wonderful out we sought out so many things that we could do in the out-of-doors. Including cleaning off the deck, which my husband does yearly with an innocuous peroxide-based bleach agent, using a long-handled scrub brush to take away all that accumulation from the winter snows and summer moister to bring the pine boards back to their raw clean look once again.
And when it dried, hauling all the deck furniture out of the garden shed, including that most favourite piece of all, for me, the glider. I anticipate many happy and comforting hours of sitting on that glider, reading the newspapers, revelling in the clemency of the weather. Oops, forget to mention the wind. Lots of wind today. Really, I mean it; wind that makes you sit up and take notice. Or knocks you over.
In fact, while I was busy lifting one of our peonies because it tends to pout and not bloom as a result of being a little too deeply ensconced in the garden soil, I was alarmed at the sound of a huge clunk, and looked about to try to determine what had occasioned it. My husband lifted his head momentarily from the work he had at hand, but nothing presented itself as an explanation.
The bits and pieces of garden stuff, like winter blankets and rose cones that had been placed temporarily outside of the garden shed while he hauled out the furniture had blown about everywhere in the backyard and I was kept busy retrieving the pieces from the garden. Then another one of those loud clunks and as I looked up and through the slats of the back fence I realized what it was, as I witnessed another block of fencing fall flat onto the property of the fence owner.
There was a huge open gap between two neighbours, as it became obvious that two large blocks of fencing had submitted to the thrust of the high winds, exposing each backyard completely to the other. The two backyard neighbours in question, backing onto ours and our neighbour's backyards, comprised of young families with very young children have never, to my knowledge as much as passed a half-dozen words between themselves, in the five years they have lived side by side.
Better late than never. They can introduce themselves to one another, and get to work together building a new fence. Or not. What's with these people? One a Francophone family with two little girls, the other an Anglophone family with an infant. They live right next door to one another, after all. Granted the Francophones are pretty loud and noisy, but you don't get to choose your neighbours, usually.
Nice day, though. Glad we've got so many good neighbours on our own street, along with some on the street behind with whom we can chat and enjoy life.
Labels: Gardening
posted by Pieface @ 6:12 PM
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