Lament for a Garden

I write to bemoan the sad fate of my garden at the hands of Calgary’s bizarre weather. If you’re not interested in reading a gardener’s whine, just listen to the music.

Soundtrack: Mozart’s Requiem, Lacrimosa

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=swkT07TP-mo

We had a late, hot summer – 32C in mid-September.

Our first frost was October 1, a month later than normal. It was a hard frost, but we had warning. I picked my tomatoes and a final bouquet of nasturtiums.

Knowing Calgary’s weather can be erratic, we stayed on schedule with fall cleanup. We harvested apples and pears, turned the compost one last time, watered everything in after six weeks without rain, brought in the bird bath, and cleaned the eavestroughs.

Cold weather was forecast, so we put the cover on the cold frame, finished washing the windows, and moved the hoses out of the way so we wouldn’t be stepping on them.

And then it got really cold. Perennials that hadn’t even started to die back look like they have freezer burn. The still-green leaves on the trees have frozen – some dropping, green and crispy frozen, others shriveling on the tree. I’m not sure which leaves can turn colour now; we’re jumping from green to winter without any fall colour at all.

My beautiful mottled-green ceramic bowl full of water froze solid and now has split open. The overfull water barrel is frozen through. We don’t know if the wooden staves can survive the pressure.

The hoses – well, they were in bad shape already. I suspect we’ll be replacing them all next spring.

I’m hoping the carrots and beets can be saved, but the kale and cabbages are frozen, and the little Egyptian onions growing on the top of the stalks like strange monsters are balls of ice.

I harvested frozen sage for the turkey stuffing; there were no flowers for the table. Or lovely orange and red leaves.

All I can say now is . . . no . . . I can’t say that in public. I’m a kids writer. Please feel free to insert your own expletive. Make it a good one for me.

Maureen