Pleasant surprises
I know, I know. I have sworn that I would not write another column about politics. Well, Janine reminded me after last week’s column about all the leftovers in my fridge, that my New Year’s resolution was that I would throw away perfectly good food before I would let it accumulate in my fridge again, so obviously you can’t believe a word I say.
Anyway, this column is not going to be about politics, but when I start my morning off with a good laugh I like to share it.
“If Donald Trump and Justin Trudeau were drowning and you could only save one, where would you and Justin go for lunch after?”
I know I have a sense of humour, but it’s the just kind that
gets you through rough times and mostly self-deprecating. I like that joke because I cannot for the life of me think of
anything funny about Donald Trump and I am in awe of anyone who can.
Just like I was in awe yesterday when I went back to the garden on Fleming Street to divide a clump of chives. (I wasn’t being creepy. I still own the house and had the tenant’s permission.) I opened the back gate and was stopped in my
tracks by a huge brilliant white mound of candytuft.
I have to tell you about perennial candytuft because it is a wonderful gin-and-tonic gardener plant. It is fast growing and not a bit fussy. It can triple or quadruple in size in a year. I don’t remember when I planted it on Fleming Street but it I’d say it’s three times the size now as it was when I left three springs ago.
It was probably in a four-inch pot when I bought it and I can guarantee it has never been fed or watered regularly. It doesn’t like wet feet or too much shade but that’s about it.
I was going to divide it once, but I decided, oddly for me, to leave well enough alone. The way you’re supposed to do it is dig up the whole plant in the spring, cut through the root mass, replant the mother plant and then plant the division. I have read that the stems easily root wherever they touch the ground, but that was not my experience. I will check again, though I wouldn’t dare mess with that plant.
You can start candytuft from
seeds or cuttings. You should take the softwood cuttings from existing plants during midsummer. I’m going to try this, but I think a few new plants are on the shopping list for this year. Once the blooms are over, “they” say you should cut the entire candytuft plant back to ground level every other year to
avoid woodiness of the stems. I think that must refer to before the plant reaches its optimum size of about one foot high and three feet wide. I think mine is bigger than that.
Another beauty that has grown beyond all expectations and is at its best so far this year is a Japanese quince. It didn’t
have many blooms for years, but I finally pruned it the year I left to let some more light into the centre, and, now that I’m gone, it’s gorgeous.
My third pleasant surprise was clematis Blue Dancer. (It’s a bigger surprise that I remembered its name). Blue Dancer is one of the earliest blooming clematis, an alpine variety, and blooms on last year’s wood, meaning you can trim it up a bit after it has bloomed but you don’t prune it hard. The poor thing was only one year old the year before we moved, and I accidentally broke it off right at the ground and hadn’t seen it since. There it is now, having been safe from me for two years, looking better than ever.
Another surprise was Janine posting last week’s column on Facebook. It wasn’t a surprise that she knows that my column and all the good Telegram stuff is available online, but I am impressed that she knew how to post it on Facebook.
I wouldn’t.