Speak to me of Love,
And I will tell you a story that never ends.
Speak to me of Love,
And I will tell you how it doesn’t matter,
How much you say she has aged,
And her beauty faded.
Not for me, never, I proudly say.
Speak to me of Love,
Tell me only that she said my name
Fondly, softly, in remembrance.
Speak to me again of love,
One last time, never ending.
Rows of flowering potato plants, July 1, 2020. Those are staked tomato plants in the foreground.
The humble potato has its moment of floral glory.
Two types of well-sprouted tubers I planted around the first of May have overcome unseasonably cold temperatures through much of that month, then drought in June, and are now looking quite healthy thank you, despite current drought conditions.
Perhaps in defiance, both are showing pretty, blue flowers. Usually that’s a clue to the colour of the potatoes taking shape in the ground. But not in the case of the four rows on the left where a well-known, red-skinned potato with white flesh is growing. Continue reading
A well-mulched, healthy garlic crop in Hope Ness after a difficult winter and cold spring. A good crop in Ontario, Canada for challenging times. Two rows of peas on the left are coming along slowly in the ‘unseasonably’ cool weather. But they are also hardy.
This spring a lot of people decided for various reasons related to Covid 19 to plant a garden and grow their own food. They may have had some past experience, or not, in which case they likely did a certain amount of preparatory research and planning in hopes of a bountiful outcome.
But I suspect no amount of homework prepared them for the realities of this growing season. So far it has, and continues to be a shock, even for this old gardener. It depends where you are to a large extent. That comment reflects my experience here in southern Ontario near the 45th Parallel halfway between the Equator and the North Pole. By this date, nearing the end of the second week of June, seeds and transplants would normally be safely in the ground and growing nicely. Continue reading
There’s snow peas in there somewhere, under the snow.
What’s with the weather?
Here in southern Ontario, Canada, in The Great Lakes region of North America, as we approach mid-May, to say the weather in ‘unseasonable,’ is to put it mildly.
No sooner is that word out of my fingertips and on the cyber-page than it seems incongruous in the circumstances: it’s anything but mild outside. It’s cold, and wintry cold at that, with sub-zero, night temperatures in the seven-day Environment Canada forecast. Continue reading
I’m Canadian, eh. And a modest market gardener, living and working in a sparsely populated rural area. So, I guess I’m more culturally obsessed with the weather than a lot of people in Canada who now mostly live in big cities. It wasn’t always so; but more about that later.
I have been reminded yet again that keeping tabs on the now-frequent wanderings of the Jet Stream is key to understanding Canadian weather; and in particular, here on the Saugeen/Bruce Peninsula, and elsewhere in southern Ontario. This comes in the midst of winter’s virtual return, several days of freezing cold weather, a month into the spring season of the Northern Hemisphere. It’s supposed to be a lot warmer than this. Gardeners are supposed to be busy planting hardy, early crops like snow peas, even potatoes by now; and rejoicing that a healthy-looking crop of new garlic has emerged, not worrying about even it, surprisingly tough as it is, being damaged by one hard frost after another. Continue reading
Far be it from me to traffic in dangerously unrealistic comments and other false hopes about the current Coronavirus (Covid-19) crisis. But for what it’s worth, regarding the lifting of essential spirits, I humbly say the following:
The garlic is up, here at the end of Cathedral Drive, Hope Ness. Just an inch or so, mind you; and a little touched by frost at the tip. But garlic is tough. It will survive. It already has. Continue reading
An image from The Virgin Spring
Another old friend has died; and I daresay the friend of many others my age whose lives were enriched, and affected thoughtfully and spiritually by watching the films of Swedish director Ingmar Bergman in the 1960s. Continue reading
A concept image of Ontario Power Generation’s DGR for the permanent storage of low and intermediate-radioactive waste at the Bruce Nuclear Site
What are they doing now at Ontario Power Generation (OPG) headquarters in the wake of the recent vote of Saugeen Ojibway Nation (SON) members who voted NO to OPG’s plan to bury nuclear waste deep underground at the Bruce Nuclear site?
Are they asking each other, where did we go wrong? Because they did, go wrong. Continue reading
I was browsing through my copy of the periodical Bruce Peninsula Press recently when a brief item from the Municipality of the Northern Bruce Peninsula, December 9, 2019, council meeting caught my eye.
It stemmed from correspondence received from the Ontario Ministry of Agriculture, Food and Rural Affairs requesting support for the provincial government’s proposed Security From Trespass and Protecting Food Safety Act, 2019. The act is essentially about discouraging animal welfare activists from going undercover to expose animal abuse. But you wouldn’t know that from reading the brief item in the local paper, or even the government documents that purport to explain the reasons why a tough new trespass law is needed to protect the meat industry. Continue reading
At 5:20 pm on December 13, 2019 a large area on the Bruce Peninsula was shaken by what was initially reported as a small earthquake by Natural Resources Canada, which monitors seismic activity coast to coast in Canada. It registered 2.1 on the Richter scale. Seismic events at that level are not usually felt, not until they reach 3.5 on the scale. But that one was felt, and heard, for several seconds from Cape Croker north-east of Wiarton, to Lion’s Head, about halfway up the peninsula.
As I’ve said before in several previous posts, I thought at first part of my house in Hope Ness, north of Hope Bay, had collapsed, and perhaps the nearby barn, or a large tree had fallen on or near the house. By that time night had fallen. I went outside with a flashlight but saw nothing amiss. Back in the house I turned on a kitchen tap and was relieved to find the water was still running. So, apparently the deep drilled well had not been damaged. Continue reading