Summer gets a little sweeter whenever the opportunity for a meander through a garden arises. Even better if you do it with a friend, through their own garden pathways, overgrown and bumpy, and better yet if it’s smack dab in the middle of a city that desperately needs to add to its green spaces.
The chats that arise in a garden can be as meandering as the clematis vines weaving their delicate tendrils along the roughness of an old back fence. More often than not the interactions sound a bit like this. “How’s it doing now that the weather has been so hot this summer and how are your tomatoes coming along? What? You have a purple tomato? I didn’t know that was even possible. I’ve never seen one. What’s it called? And how’s so and so? Oh, that must be hard. Yeah, you just never know…”
These are the words and the clustering and the dreaming that are inevitable, usually grafted over the dreaming about next year’s garden, as one meanders through, vines overhead, little green grape pearls twining themselves around whatever is nearest to cling to.
It’s heavenly in August when the sun is hot and the chairs are placed under the shade of a tree and guest are awaiting lemonade. It is imperative to create little clusters of conversational possibilities via the placement of chairs don’t you think?
And there’s the community gardens that have popped up in spare lots wherever communities have decided to enable those who don’t own their own land, to access land, to grow vegetables or flowers. Squash and sunflowers mix with the garlics all underneath the fig tree.My friends Gwen and Penny are garden lovers with three plots between them. I can envision them in retirement, toiling past dusk in their own market garden. Another friend, Karen, even came up with a name for them – Freefield Market Gardens – which is a combination of one part of each of their last names.
They invited me to the Burnaby Heights Garden Tour that we went on last year and had a lovely time. I don’t have too many photos this year. There were less backyards on the tour but it was still a nice way to spend a Sunday morning.
A little bowl of gems set off by the beautiful deep hues of freshly cut Hydrangea.
Her missus wondering what all the fuss was about and why all the people were streaming through disturbing the tranquility, her peace. So tedious.
I had no idea that artichokes turn into thistles. How could I not have known this until now?
These are the weirdest trees. I’m not sure if they have something wrong with them but they’re like a mystical forest of misfits who just weren’t interested in growing straight.
I love it when people decide to put art or carvings into their gardens in inconspicuous places. The ancestors looking over, keeping watch, listening.