Terrarium Time

It will be weeks before we’re in the garden. That is, those who have a garden. Given all the high-rise condominiums going up, city residents without a backyard will soon outnumber those who do have a patch of green. It’s especially hard for those who are used to having a garden, so why not a mini garden, a terrarium. They can be easier to maintain than trying to keep houseplants alive in an arid home.

I have three or four terrariums on the go at different times. The mini gardens help me endure the long wait for spring to arrive. They range from the size of a lightbulb to as big as a double air fryer. A terrarium is like a small zoo for plants and are ideal for small houseplants that originate in the lower light humidity of a rainforest, not in a toasty home. Once established a terrarium is easy to maintain. 

A typical plant terrarium is a closed eco system. However, if used for cacti or other succulents, then it must remain open to provide more desert-like conditions, otherwise they won’t last long sweating it out in sticky box. Here, I’m focusing on a closed terrarium. 

You can purchase a new one, although most of the ones I see are small, big enough for only a plant or two. My larger one is designed for housing reptiles. The plants are happy and take little care, especially as there’s no need to check every day to see if they need watering. If you have an old aquarium or reptile tank sitting around, it will only need a glass or clear plastic cover that can be opened slightly if necessary to control the humidity. 

The first thing you must do before starting to build yours, whether brand new or not, is to sterilize it, or at least clean it well, which is my lazy approach. Next is soil. Here’s where it can get controversial. Most books, magazines, and YouTube videos will recommend having a layer of gravel below the soil, even adding charcoal. I’ve never done either and I’ve never found it necessary. My terrariums are the happiest with simply a couple of inches or more of a soil-free medium. 

It’s easiest to mix and moisten the soil before placing and that avoids any chance of making it too wet. You can make a few hills and valleys in your mini landscape and add a rock or piece of driftwood to make it more interesting. The soil can be deeper in places depending on the plants you add. Almost any low growing houseplant is suitable, preferably ones that prefer only lower light rather that full sun. If you need colour add varieties of Fittonia, the nerve plant, with their beautiful, bright and colourful veining. 

So, if the fish are floating or Iggy the iguana's been missing for a month, you might as well make good use of that tank. Has the snow melted yet?

The Garden Club

 From The Diary of a Mad Gardener

 January 4    I never would have believed it, but I’m learning Latin. I have to. I dropped by the library to see if any garden books had been returned. Some had, but they were about to be checked out again by Shirl, the garden woman from up the street. She was standing there with a stack under each arm.
    “How did you manage that?” I asked. “Every time I try to find 
a book the garden club gang has scooped them all . . . Hey, wait 
a minute. You aren’t, are you?”
    “Sure am,” she smirked. “I joined up last fall. In fact, I’m the Sergeant at Arms.”
    “Sergeant at Arms,” I said. “But that isn’t fair, Shirl. When 
I tried to join they told me the membership was limited.”
    “Ah,” she smiled. “It is. The Groundling Garden Club is a 
very exclusive club, with distinct advantages.”
    “I can see that,” I said, nodding at the books. 
    “That’s just one of them. We also have the seed exchange and plant swop sown up. Nothing botanical moves in this town without our say so.”
    “So that’s why I always end up with the marigolds. Okay, Shirl, how do I join?” 
    “Easy,” she said. “Beg to be recommended by a member in good standing.”
    “Like you.”
    “Like me.” 
        I begged. “Is that all, then?” 
    “Well,” Shirl replied, “there is the initiation ceremony. 
It’s always a lot of fun—for the established membership.”
    “No problem,” I said. “What’s involved?”
    “Oh,” Shirl said, “I can’t tell you that, but you will have to 
be able to recite the club mission statement in Latin—while blindfolded—and participate in a few exercises.”
    “Blindfolded!” I said. “Exercises? It would be easier to get into the Hell’s Angels.”
    “Probably. We never did make our fresh recruits learn any Latin.”
    “What!”
    “It’s up to you,” Shirl smiled. “But I’d seriously consider it if you want to see a garden book again. Maybe you should renew that dictionary you’re returning.” 

January 5    I renewed the book like Shirl said, and I’ve been working away at the Latin. I’m waiting for a call from her now. She said that for security reasons, the Groundlings’ meetings are held with little advance notice, but I think she’s putting me on. 
I’ve already learned the club motto "Carpe rutila" something about seizing a hoe. All I have to do now is get through the initiation ceremony and I’ll be a Groundling, too, with all the rights and privileges of membership—and books, and seeds. 
It’s kinda exciting, but I admit I’m a bit apprehensive about 
the “other things.” She said when she calls I’m to be ready 
with a trowel and a pair of rubber boots.

January 16    Shirl called and it’s tonight! Tonight, I become 
a member of the Groundling Garden Club. I can hardly wait, although I am feeling a tad anxious about the initiation ceremony. Regardless, I feel I should look my best, so I dug out my old rubber boots from the shed and hosed them down. They were 
in a bit of a mess from the last time I wore them, which was when I waded through a farmyard carrying a pail of garden helper. I did plan to buff them up, too, but when I’d finished washing them off I discovered a hole in the left one, which I suspect accounts for the sock I discovered on the compost heap.
        Instead, I decided to buy new ones. I spoiled myself. I went down to the garden store and fell in love with the finest pair of rubber garden boots on the market. Bright yellow, knee high, with heavy green treads on the bottom that leave an impression of a carrot behind as you walk along. Actually, I had a choice of four vegetables: carrot, leek, pepper, and eggplant. But I went with the carrot to confuse the rabbits. The boots have big, hand sized loops front and back to haul them on with, and there’s even a kind of holster on the side where you can stick your trowel—amazing! 
        I’d say I’m ready to become a Groundling.

January 17    I did it! I am now a probationary member of 
the Groundlings Garden Club, entitled to almost all the rights 
and privileges of membership. Except I’m no longer so sure I 
want to be a member.
        The initiation process was tough, and involved some tests 
that might seem bizarre to the average person; however, I passed with honours. I feel proud that I was able to show them what a committed gardener I am, although there were a couple of difficult moments, and I’m still feeling bad about my new boots. Yes, I’ve been having my doubts about joining the Groundlings Garden Club. They began after we left the meeting.
        On the way home Shirl and I stopped for coffee, and to celebrate my acceptance she bought me a donut. As we ate, 
I asked her how things went with her initiation ceremony. “Oh,” she said, “They waived it for me. I was able to join through the valued applicant process.”
    “Huh!” I said, “A valued applicant process?”
    “That’s what they called it. Actually, it was just good timing. Their old slide projector had recently gone super nova and fried President Bob’s collection of rare weed pictures. They were so desperate that when I offered to donate the one I’ve had sitting in the back of the closet for years, they couldn’t wait to sign me up. The members were so grateful they offered me the presidency. Instead, I agreed to accept the Sergeant at Arms position, providing I was allowed to toughen up the initiation process. 
You were the first to go through the new version.”
    “I don’t believe it,” I said. “Forty members and I’m the only 
one that’s gone through a gruelling initiation. I thought I was joining a select group of gardeners, and now I find out I could have been in for the price of an old slide projector. I have one 
in the back of the closet, too, you know.” 
    “Yes, but does it have a spare bulb?” 
        I don’t think it has any bulb, but I didn’t tell Shirl that. I told her I was disappointed and would be thinking seriously about withdrawing my application. “Whatever you like,” she went on, “but remember, you’re sworn to secrecy. One word about the initiation ceremony and you’re out.”
        After that exchange, I came home and sat in my plant room 
to contemplate the situation. After about half an hour I heard the timer click, then I saw the light: The Groundling Garden Club is corrupt and the whole bunch of them should be impeached.

January 18    I’ve decided. I’m definitely not going to join 
the garden club. I might need library books but I don’t need the Groundlings with their silly initiations and their dumb secret greeting—Secret! I’ve been using it for years—bow slightly, place palms of both hands on small of back, straighten up, and groan.
        As for the initiation, I showed them all right, even if I did experience a little anxiety at first. But only because Shirl relieved me of my brand-new rubber boots as soon I arrived at the meeting. I did feel kinda silly when they blindfolded me and made me stand in a big planter while all the members marched around me chanting Latin. But after ten minutes of that they stopped chanting and began firing garden questions at me; they couldn’t stump me. 
I answered every one correctly.
        After that they put me through the big compost test. I was required to positively identify a number of organic materials by each one’s fragrance. One after another a trowelful was held up 
for me to sniff. I must admit, I was impressive. There were gasps of astonishment as I accurately named each one. I gasped a couple of times myself, too, when I sniffed too hard, but I nailed every single one—peat moss, leaf mold, grass clippings, sawdust, and 
a complete line of barnyard gaspers.
        When I reached the last one the room fell silent as I took my final sniff. Without a doubt it was horse, and I told them so—more gasps. Then a voice from the back called out, “But what kind of horse?” Before speaking, I slowly pulled the blindfold from my eyes and looked around at the expectant faces. The room fell silent, and then I spoke. “Clydesdale,” I said, with authority. 
The crowd went wild.
        I was feeling pretty darn proud of myself at that point, until I pulled on my boots—my brand-new rubber boots—and discovered where they’d been dumping the compost after I’d identified it. And to think that Shirl got in for the price of an old slide projector. I’m calling President Bob today to resign.

Read more of the Mad Gardener

Winter Sowing Soon

I’ll soon be winter sowing, and compared to growing seedlings indoors or under lights, it’s less finicky and costs almost nothing. Winter sowing produces tough, sturdy plants, unlike the weak-kneed specimens grown on a windowsill. You can start anytime over the next couple of months.

Most annuals and familiar perennials, and cool season vegetables can be winter sown, but you won’t have any luck with tender plants or exotic species. A good choice are plants that are referred to as hardy, or come with instructions to direct sow outside in fall or in early spring. These are plants that would normally cast their seed in fall, and then sprout up the moment conditions are right. Sure, in the garden many may be considered weeds, however in my garden they’re more likely to be popular garden plants that I grew the previous year. I look on these as free plants — or grandchildren.

When we grow plants indoors, some seeds come with instructions for special treatment that simulates what they typically experience in their normal outdoor environment. They have to be soaked for a time or scarified, that is, nicking or using sandpaper to wear down the hard husk. Others have to be given a spell in the freezer for the purpose of cold stratification. This freezing and thawing or cool dampness outdoors is what breaks down the tough husk of the seed, allowing it to germinate. To reproduce the same process indoors can be tedious and not always reliable.  Winter sowing takes care of this naturally.

You’ll be pleased to hear there’s no need to go tramping through the snow, but simply plant seeds in jugs and set them on the deck or patio. All you need are a few clear or opaque containers and soil and seeds. Gallon jugs are perfect, and all those windshield washer jugs are fine, just rinse well. Some use two litre water bottles. I really like the large water dispenser bottles. 

First, drill or cut a few small holes in the bottom of the container. This is to allow excess water to drain but not so large that the soil could fall out. If the container has only a very narrow opening, make a couple of extra holes or cuts near the top to allow for air circulation. Next step is to slice open the container about two thirds up on three sides, leaving one side (or a small section if the container is round) to act as a hinge.

Now place soil in the container. Garden soil is fine, but you don’t want to be out digging in the garden at the moment. Most any potting soil will do. Moisten the soil then sow your seed. Cover them as per packet instructions, or if unsure, about the same as the diameter of the seed. Close up the container and tape it shut along the sides but leave the screw cap off. Now all you have to do is set them outdoors. 

If snow buries them, don’t worry. A little snow will fall in and that’s okay too, however, check occasionally to be sure the soil hasn’t dried out. If the weather is especially warm in early spring, remove the tape and open the containers for a while during the day. As the seeds sprout in early spring, you can open them up and leave them open. When the seedlings are large enough they can be planted in the garden.

There, you’re almost gardening already. What a great start to the new year.

Here they come again

 Are you and your houseplants troubled by fungus gnats, those pesky bugs that look like fruit flies, or mini mosquitoes? They come with the territory and your houseplants are their territory, or to be more precise, the soil in which your plants are sitting. If you’ve never been bothered by them, either you’re lucky, or all you grow are cactus and other desert plants — we’ll get to that later.

Fungus gnats are not a threat to animals or children, but they can seriously upset an adult. You’ll know you have them when they rise to greet you as you approach your plants, and they’ll head for your nose because after damp soil they have a fondness for the carbon dioxide you’re emitting. Fruit flies, however, are attracted to fruit rather than soil. Leave a grape on the kitchen counter too long and fruit flies are soon rolling it out the door. Their bodies are orange or brown and a little plumper than the gnats.

The only function of a fungus gnat is to mate and then lay tiny eggs on the soil of houseplants. Adults live about seven to ten days and deposit eggs on the moist soil surface or in soil cracks. Females lay from 100 to 300 eggs in batches of 2 to 30. Eggs hatch in four to six days; larvae feed for 12 to 14 days. The pupal stage is about five to six days. So as fast as you wipe out one batch, there’s another group hatching. The gnats don’t live long. After a week or so it’s off to the undertaker but then new ones arrive and it becomes an endless cycle — unless you take action.

Since you take loving care of your plants and never forget to water them, you’re providing perfect conditions to support them. They love that damp soil full of organic matter, which is why fungus gnats aren’t attracted to the sandy cactus soil of succulents. 

Soaking the soil with a variety of solutions is often suggested, although some can be just as toxic to the user. A safe one is mosquito dunks, which contain BTI, a type of bacteria that kills mosquito larvae, and it is effective on the fungus gnat larvae.

Other advice will recommend you let the plants dry out as much as you dare between waterings, at the same time fluffing up the soil surface with a fork, allowing it to dry quickly. This makes the environment uninhabitable for eggs and larvae. That’s fine if you only own one houseplant, otherwise the task becomes tedious and time consuming. Watering only from the bottom, however, can also help.

An easier solution that I’ve found effective is to add a layer of grit or fine gravel to the soil surface. This simulates a desert, and acts as a barrier to the egg-layers. It’s an attractive mineral mulch. Add a yellow sticky trap to catch the frequent fliers and that usually takes care of fungus gnats. You might even catch a few fruit flies too.

You probably don’t need to know this

Here’s a little trivia to share, however, it might only elicit a few murmurs of huh, okay, or how about that — if you’re lucky. The only occasion when it might be worth repeating is when a conversation has stalled and is almost beyond recovery. It might help if there’s an amaryllis handy, preferably in bloom, or at least sprouting leaves.

It’s then you could pipe up and say, "Although we might call them amaryllis, the correct name is Hippeastrum, a genus of plants from South America.” Right, you needn’t have bothered because few give a hoot about the botanical nomenclature of plants. Botanists do, although they don’t always agree. They long debated whether the ones we know and love belong in the genus Hippeastrum, a group of plants native to South America, or should they be classed as Amaryllis belladonna, a plant from southern Africa?

The argument went on until 1987 when the 14th International Botanical Congress decided our seasonal houseplant was indeed from the genus Hippeastrum. Fortunately, they agreed amaryllis would be a “conserved name”, meaning it was okay to continue calling it what we always have done.

Regardless, these plants that brighten our homes as days shorten are all the result of hybridisation of Hippeastrum species from Central and South America. They’re selected and bred for flower size and ease of forcing in a gorgeous range of colours that continues to expand.

As for Amaryllis belladonna, the one that caused all the confusion, it’s a plant that you’d more likely see growing outdoors. In more temperate regions around the world, it’s become naturalized. One of the common names for it is naked ladies (not the fall crocus), so named, not after the band, but because the flowers bloom before the leaves appear, like the fall crocus. It could be grown in our gardens as a summer flowering bulb, that is if you can find it. 

I’m afraid my suggestion of a garden plant that you can’t easily buy is about as useful as the bit of trivia, so back to our good old amaryllis. You might be unloading one with the groceries right now as they’re currently being sold everywhere. If you also bought a monster garlic or some kind of exotic root vegetable, make sure it’s the amaryllis that goes in a flowerpot, not the soup pot because it is somewhat toxic to humans, but only if you eat a lot. Dogs and cats, however, can become quite ill if they were to chew on a bulb or eat the leaves.

Now that I’ve sorted out the plant that no one was confused about until I brought it up, here’s how to care for it. Some come ready planted with complete instructions, but if you’re starting out with a bare (don’t mention naked) bulb, choose a pot that is slightly larger than the bulb, preferably a heavier one to avoid tipping.

Don't bury the bulb completely in the pot, just two thirds to three quarters deep leaving the shoulders exposed. A specific potting soil isn’t necessary. Place in a warm, sunny location and water sparingly at first as too much can cause rotting. Gradually water more as the leaves and flower bud appear and fertilize every couple of weeks. To prolong blooming, move it to a still bright but slightly cooler location.

Pinch off the blooms as they fade but keep the leaves growing for as long as possible to replenish the bulb. To get it to flower again next winter, sink the pot in the ground outdoors in spring. Cut off the foliage after it dies back, then leave it be until September.

Repot in fresh soil, bring it indoors, repeat the process as above and you can look forward to it blooming a second time — how about that, huh?

A rainforest indoors.

 

 Front opening reptile tank

Given all the high-rise condominiums going up, city residents without a backyard will soon outnumber those who do have a patch of green. It’s especially hard for those who are used to having a garden, so why not a mini garden, a terrarium. They can be easier to maintain than trying to keep houseplants alive in an arid home.

I have three or four terrariums on the go at different times. The mini gardens help me endure the long wait for spring to arrive. They range from the size of a light-bulb to as big as a double air fryer. A terrarium is like a small zoo for plants and are ideal for small houseplants that originate in the lower light humidity of a rain-forest, not in a toasty home. Once established a terrarium is easy to maintain. 

A typical plant terrarium is a closed eco system. However, if used for cacti or other succulents, then it must remain open to provide more desert-like conditions, otherwise they won’t last long sweating it out in sticky box. Here, I’m focusing on a closed terrarium. 

You can purchase a new one, although most of the ones I see are small, big enough for only a plant or two. My larger one is designed for housing reptiles. The plants are happy and take little care, especially as there’s no need to check every day to see if they need watering. If you have an old aquarium or reptile tank sitting around, it will only need a glass or clear plastic cover that can be opened slightly if necessary to control the humidity. 

The first thing you must do before starting to build yours, whether brand new or not, is to sterilize it, or at least clean it well, which is my lazy approach. Next is soil. Here’s where it can get controversial. Most books, magazines, and YouTube videos will recommend having a layer of gravel below the soil, even adding charcoal. I’ve never done either and I’ve never found it necessary. My terrariums are the happiest with simply a couple of inches or more of a soil-free medium. 

It’s easiest to mix and moisten the soil before placing and that avoids any chance of making it too wet. You can make a few hills and valleys in your mini landscape and add a rock or piece of driftwood to make it more interesting. The soil can be deeper in places depending on the plants you add. Almost any low growing houseplant is suitable, but don't mix light-loving flowering plants with ones that prefer shade. If you need colour add varieties of Fittonia, the nerve plant, with their beautiful, bright and colourful veining.

So, if the fish are floating or Iggy the iguana's been missing for a month, you might as well make good use of that tank. Has the snow melted yet?

Note: Shown above is a front opening reptile tank for easy access. 

Halloween Cats

I do like cats

Roses are a lovely plant,
A long-time favourite of my aunt
They flower for her every day
More since uncle passed away

He’s buried in the flowerbed
Since aunt whacked him in the head
It wasn’t just a simple spat
She loved her roses; he loved his cat

Each day aunt would prune and hoe
Each night that cat would boldly go
Tension daily grew and grew
Until one day aunt’s temper blew

With bulging eyes and face all red
She grabbed a shovel from the shed
And swung it like a baseball bat
First at uncle, then the cat

She tenderly laid them to rest
Poor uncle and the furry pest
She buried them real close to home
Against the fence in sandy loam.

Where aunt sometimes now plucks a bloom
And ponders on the victim’s doom
She oft regrets that it were so,
But oh, those roses, how they grow

Yet sadly Aunt had been misled
The hated cat still was not dead
Nine lives it had to haunt her still
No more the roses would they thrill

They grew so well you understand
Fragrant yes, but not so grand
Wafting on the evening air
Stench only of the rotting pair

No more the favourite of my aunt
No rosewater to decant
Just haunting eyes o’er her bed
From a disembodied head

A ghoulish purring in the night
Now wakens aunt in awful fright
Her nightmare roses ooh ooh ow
Are thorn-like claws meow meow

Orange Globes Again

It’s hard to avoid those large, orange globes — you know what I mean. What do they call them — pumpkins? Yes, it’s that time of year and they’re sprouting everywhere, even crowding out election signs. They’re also a big news story — that is the big ones are. It seems there’s a record broken every fall for size and weight.

Besides the challenges of transportation to the weighing arena, there’s clearly a lot more involved in competitive pumpkin growing than just scattering a few seeds in the garden. I have grown pumpkins on occasion, and it was exciting the time I had one climb into a tomato cage. When it bulked up it absorbed the whole cage and became a goofy Halloween display all on its own, a performance artist pumpkin tottering on its three spiky legs with wires growing through its head — sort of a man in the iron mask look.

Yet I'm not competitive enough to dive into record breaking attempts, and besides, I really don’t have the room. My suburban lot isn't large enough to grow something the size of a garden shed, although it does sound almost like a practical idea. Plant it in spring, stop feeding when it reaches the appropriate size, scoop out the inside, then cut in the doors and windows and voila —  an orange garden shed. Not large enough? — I could grow a fresh one each year.

Durability might be an issue though, given how regular pumpkins tend to implode over time if left too long on the porch. I imagine a shed sized one could become its own compost pile overnight, then there’s an awful mess to clean up. I think I’ll stick with regular sized pumpkins — or even miniatures ones. Why not? Down sizing happened with pet dogs. If they get any smaller, we’ll be keeping them in bird cages.

As it happens, I did grow miniature pumpkins this year and I’m pleased with the results. They’re not really pumpkins, but they sure look like pumpkins. They’re just as orange, just as creased, and what’s more, my one plant produced dozens. They’re actually a plant in the nightshade family — same as potatoes and tomatoes. In fact, they've been called mock tomato. They’re also called Ornamental Eggplant, pumpkin bush, and my favourite, pumpkin on a stick. Solanum Integrifolium is the botanical name and it’s native to South East Asia.

It’s cooked there in stir fry dishes, but I'm not planning to eat mine without a little more research, but I am happy to grow it as an interesting ornamental plant. It was easy to grow and could have reached over a meter high if I’d given it a sunnier spot. I bought it as a plant in spring, although it can be grown from seed. I thought it looked interesting and stuck it in an out of the way corner in part shade then forgot about it until I saw golf ball sized pumpkins growing. 

Despite a lack of attention, my plant managed to produce a few dozen fruit. They’ll look perfect in a fall display basket — one with gourds and stuff. Not my thing, really. I think I’ll carve them as Barbie sized ghouls — or Barbie sized garden sheds. 

Choices

 What to do, what to do?

Echinacea pallida

Doug Tallamy, American entomologist, ecologist and conservationist recommends that 70% of plants in a garden should be native species as a food source for pollinating insects. It’s become a popular talking point over the last few years, especially on social media. It’s a worthwhile goal, and I encourage anyone to follow this advice should they wish to do so.

Much of the current concern about pollinators took off after a report from Germany showed a drastic reduction in insects there. This was picked up by the media and made for alarming headlines — dramatic events are more publishable. Yet unlike Europe where almost all land has been modified for human use, findings indicate that large-scale insect declines across North America remain an open question. There are few studies showing an overall decline, although this doesn’t mean there are not areas where this has occurred. 

This raises questions for me about the situation in this area. Prior to a couple of hundred years ago, southern Ontario was heavily forested, then the forests were felled to make way for farmland and much of the natural landscape was lost. Urban growth followed, absorbing swaths of that farmland, then in the decades following World War II, all manner of pesticides became available. They were heavily used in agriculture, by municipalities, and by homeowners.

Verbascum chaixii 'Wedding Candles'

This was a time when green lawns ruled and to ensure they stayed that way, they were sprayed heavily with weedkillers — remember the tanker trucks that roamed neighbourhoods leaving a chemical smell in the air? Thankfully, that ended in 2008 with the Ontario pesticide act.

Prior to about thirty years ago, other than grass, there might have been a small vegetable plot. out back with room for a clothesline. In the front yard, most homes had only what was termed a foundation planting out front, three or four evergreens and limited selection of flowering plants. There were far fewer sources for plants compared to now when big box and grocery stores have become garden centres. Filling the front and back yard with rare and unusual plants would have been seen as radical. This began to change largely due to the Communities in Bloom program starting in 1998, which encouraged front yard plantings, and over the last twenty years interest in growing flowering plants has surged.

Growing vegetables, too, has become hugely popular. However, backyards are still largely a play area for kids and pets, although many trees and shrubs have been added where none grew before. People build gardens for many reasons, and in an urban environment it isn’t easy to recreate a natural ecosystem where plants and insects have developed a complex web of interrelationships, yet those who opted to plant flower gardens with a wide range of plants have done much to support pollinators. Non-native plants might not cater to all species of insects, but they can provide nectar rich flowers for generalist feeders, and native birds and insects will happily feed on both native and non-native plants. It’s the specialist feeders that are most in need of specific plants that support them, like the monarch butterfly that relies on milkweed. However, only a relatively small percentage of insects require specific plants, and each has co-evolved with a colony to suit their needs. A single plant in an urban garden may not be enough to meet their needs (see below).

Hoverfly

Planting any kind of garden is a positive thing when one considers what is being done to the planet, especially so as climate change, pesticide use, and loss of greenbelt continue to threaten pollinating insects on a much bigger scale than a simple garden that has long provided habitat where non existed before. So yes, do avoid using invasive, exotic plants, and certainly add more native species to attract pollinators, even 70%, but don’t be afraid to grow what you love, providing it causes no harm to the environment — know your plants, and your pollinators.

It is worth noting that in the US, where the movement is strongest, pesticide use by home gardeners is still permitted. Eighty-five types of pesticide outlawed in other countries are still allowed there. Add a comment below.

NOT my garden

My garden

 

Rockway Gardens, Kitchener, Ontario.

This is a short piece I wrote for Canadian Gardening magazine some time ago.

In 1928, a strip of wasteland alongside the eastern approach to the city of Kitchener, Ontario, sprouted nothing but scrub and billboards.

Today, it’s Rockway Gardens, a three hectare floral ribbon, created and maintained by the Kitchener Horticultural Society. The gardens are now within a vastly expanded city, a source of civic pride that sees numerous bridal parties waiting in line each weekend in summer for wedding photographs beside vintage fountains or before a low limestone escarpment.

It appears natural, but this impressive rockery, spilling with flowers, was constructed during the depression years with almost 2,000 tonnes of limestone. Designed by prominent English landscape architect, W. J. Jarman, the project provided relief work for the unemployed during difficult times; allowing many to hold onto their homes by contributing labour in lieu of paying property taxes. Work continues at the gardens. Each year, volunteers from the Horticultural Society, whose motto is “community beauty is a civic duty”, contribute to their heritage by planting thousands of bulbs and annuals at Rockway to welcome visitors to the city of Kitchener.

At 270 Simcoe Street North in the city of Oshawa lies another garden developed during the same period. Parkwood, now a national historic site, was the home of Sam McLaughlin, founder of General Motors of Canada. His impressive and imposing mansion is set amid five hectares of gardens designed by a series of prominent landscape architects of the early twentieth century, including W.E. Harries and A.V. Hall, and the Dunington-Grubbs, husband and wife team who were founding members of the Canadian Society of Landscape Architects.

These talented people created delightful garden rooms adorned with beautiful statuary, including the Italian Garden, the Sunken Garden, the Sundial Garden, all linked by paths and hidden nooks to greenhouses where orchids and palms share space with the Japanese Garden and the Greenhouse Tea Room.

The last major development took place in the thirties, when architect John Lyle was commissioned to design a formal garden in the art moderne style, a branch of art deco. Viewed from the terrace, a bridal party posing amid the elegant simplicity of the garden with its string of fountains evokes a beautiful representation of the period.