November in Bear River

This morning I woke up to a fairyland of frost that clung to each blade of grass in the fields around our house. It all crunched under foot and as beautiful as it was to see, it spelled the end of the gardening season.

The frost temporarily changes the colours of the grasses.

Right up until last week I had still been plugging in a few donated perennials, planting a few more tulips, harvesting the last of the carrots.

I walked around taking pictures because  hoarfrost is short-lived. As soon as the sun hits the fields, the frost warms and disappears. Surprisingly, even our now-you-see-me, now-you-don’t pond had a thin layer of ice forming on it. We may just get a skating rink this winter.

Last week's rain is still draining into the pond.

Two months ago, I planted some lettuce and spinach in the cold-frame and I was eager to read the inside temperature. I crunched my way across the lawn and was startled to see a thick layer of frost on the cold-frame glass.

The outside temperature was 6 degrees celsius. What would the temperature be inside?

Inside, the thermometer read 12 degrees which was double the outside temperature. Not too bad considering there is no insulation or heat source other than the sun.

Six week old seedlings.

Now I wish I'd started a batch 2 weeks before this one, but in the garden with a floating row cover.

The cold-frame is very exciting because it promises more home-grown food and means I can enjoy gardening for a little longer. I nibble at the produce every time I lift the lid. Although it’s slow-growing, the taste is delicious.

I’ve been cooking up a storm all day. Granola, Armenian lentil soup, banana bread, chili, tomato sauce and bread. There is something about the threat of winter that gets my nesting instincts going! That and having the chance to feed our adult kids while they visit us.

This afternoon, Emily and I visited a couple of local cemeteries to take some photos. Her photography is superb and here is a link to her flickrphotos.

Mount Hope Cemetery, Bear River.

The main cemetery here is Mount Hope. It’s very pretty and peaceful, set on a high hill and bordering a babbling brook. By Bear River standards, it’s fairly modern. The dates on the stones are mostly from the 1920’s and forward.

This ornate gate is part of one of the plots for the movers and shakers of the last century in Bear River.

A couple of days ago, we visited the small cemetery across the road from us. It was used for  100 years, from 1810 – 1910.

Old Baptist Loyalist Cemetery, Bear RIver.

Nature has almost reclaimed the space in the 100 years since the last person was buried there. The trees have grown up, many of the stones are broken and are propped up against the emerging trees.

This cemetery is at the top of a ravine and is very private.

It’s a kind of Bear River Stonehenge and in spite of its rough shape, it’s a very contemplative place with some beautiful monuments to people with names like ‘Cora Bella’ and ‘Ethelynne’. There were lots of people, especially children, buried in the 1850’s which made me wonder if they’d had a flu epidemic.

Both cemeteries have lots of evidence of Mason membership.

We walked home down and up the steep hills. I had extra yummy eggs from the free-ranging, organically fed  chickens of Pamela so I baked a cake and we ate it with our tea when we got home.

One of 'the girls' hopes I've got a handful of clover for her.

I figure we are very lucky to be able to participate in this rich experiment called life. I don’t want to sound too morbid, but  that combo of the killing frost and the abandoned cemetery that is slowly being reclaimed by mother nature are reminders of the impermanence of existence.

The kitchen goddess finds her home.

All the more reason to enjoy every moment and to be awake to the beauty of our surroundings and the people in our lives who we love and who love us back.

The sky over my garden.

I still can’t get over the beauty of this place AND that we get to eat fresh eggs and grow spinach in November. AND that our kids have travelled this far to spend some time with us, with their creativity and with the beauty all around us.

Snowed in

We had a huge dump of snow this weekend and we were snowed in until Sunday.

Our 500 ft driveway

While we waited for a plough to rescue us, we took a walk through the snow drifts to the Beaver pond and the scenery was beautiful. What you are seeing in the following photo is slushy snow that is sitting on the bottom of the shallow pond. It was as peaceful and serene as it looks.

The Beaver pond

It reminded me of stage sets from a production of Swan Lake and I half-expected ballerinas in tutus to come dancing out from behind the snowdrifts.

Even the snow shapes looked like swans

Back in the garden, I found evidence that deer love broccolli! I remembered that I was going to show you photos of plants that continued to grow in the garden, even after several severe killing frosts. I took these pictures just two weeks ago. They are a reminder that ‘cool weather crops’ really means that! Imagine if these weren’t under 2 feet of snow, but under a greenhouse! Next year, FOR SURE, I will try that out.

I planted these lettuce greens and dill from seed in mid August

These brocolli were planted in the spring, but continued sending out little side-shoots

Celery

 I am kind of delighted that the deer found the broccolli. I hope that we get to see them sometime. Here is the evidence:

      

We did eventually did get ploughed out but in future we may need to park at the other end of the driveway when we know a big snowfall is coming.

Like new parents, as soon as we could, we drove the 4 kilometers down to the village to check “the house”.

Even the dumpster got snow

There were beautiful frost crystals on the garage windows.

The willow tree shows through the crystals

The wild rose bushes seemed to hold the fallen snow in their arms.

Snow and rose bushes

Winter has finally descended on our little village and it is so beautiful.

Bear River in the snow

 

September Rains

It rained today and when it stopped for a little while, I walked down the path behind the house to the beaver pond and took some pictures. Everything is still very green because of the regular (but not excessive) rain we’ve had in August. Here is the path.

I noticed that the deep greens of August are giving way to a touch of yellow.

This is the prefect time of year – no bugs, warm days and cool nights.

The crickets are singing – night and day. A few leaves are starting to turn too.

Summer will soon transform into fall.

It’s a nice time of year to have a visit from Dianne and we sure aren’t going to let any September rains get in the way.

Dianne loves lakes and oceans and swimming, so yesterday we drove down to Mavillette Beach on the French Shore of Nova Scotia, just as a BIG FOG was rolling in. We could hear the fog horn and somewhere in the distance, the sounds of ocean waves. I think of Dianne as a daring person–she has riden the steppes of Mongolia on a horse and treked through the jungles of Hawaii and hosteled in Bejing- and that’s just this year!

So, I wasn’t terribly surprised that she would want to plunge into the frigid, churning waters of the Atlantic in fog conditions.

 I was a little worried about things like rogue waves and undertows when suddenly, the clouds parted and to allow enough sunshine to clear out some fog.

I watched her so intently that I forgot to take a picture of her in the water.

Next winter when we are loading wood into the wood furnace, I’ll remember September rains and fog and watching Dianne taking the plunge. I’ll smile to myself and I might even wish I’d braved those waters with her.

Gardening Teachings

One reason that I was so eager to live in a rural Nova Scotian community was to fulfill my years-long yearnings to grow vegetables and a few flowers. I’ve done some city gardening before, but most city lots are small and don’t have the full sun conditions that plants need. As a result, my old garden was limited to shade-loving plants and sadly, I could grow no vegetables.

Sunflower planted by the birds

My garden here is pretty modest compared with some of my friends, but it is huge for me and so far it tastes great! But besides enjoying the taste of the fresh produce, gardening is teaching me mindfulness.

It turned out to be a lot more work than I remembered and more time consuming too. I have become mindful of my body and it’s limitations. I believe now that active gardening is as effective as a regular gym workout due to the constant movement; the bending, stretching, squatting, lifting and physical exertion. A big surprise for me is that my hands are stronger now….and I KNOW that it’s from pulling weeds!!

Blue Lake runner beans mid June.

Eight weeks later the beans are tall and producing.

Blue Lake runner beans in early August

Gardening has taught me to be mindful of the weather. I have never been so aware of the amount and frequency of rainfall as I have in the last 6 months. I have enormous respect and reverence for independent farmers and the crap-shoot they go through every season with the uncertainty of the weather. Drought conditions aren’t easily fixed when you’re using well-water or when your fields are far from a tap! An intense short hot spell can make your lettuces bolt and spell the end of cool-weather crops..even when the heat disappears. Too much rain will bring out slugs that chew up your cabbage leaves.

Marigold and Basil

Now that I am reminded of the mindful work and tending of plants that goes on in order to produce a bean, I am astounded that farmers can make a living. It has become even more important for me to buy local produce…..indeed it seems ludicrous not to support farmers in our own community. Because apart from wasting resources by trucking in food that is grown here, I really want to make sure that the small farmers in the Annapolis Valley (or in Niagara or the Holland Marsh if I was in Toronto) will still be growing food for me when I can’t or don’t do it myself. There was a protest about this in New Minas this week.

I wanted to give you a visual tour of what was growing in my garden today.

Right now as I type this, I can hear the rain tapping on the red metal roof and sliding down to collect in the rainbarrel. This will give me a place to dip my watering can so that I can provide drinks to the plants in pots around the porch. I can almost see the plants stretching up to receive the rain. Like gardeners everywhere, tomorrow I will marvel at the growth spurt I see because no matter how much rain you can collect or how much you water, nothing has the magical growing effect of a summer’s rain.

Here is a little video showing the progress of the flower bed I dug into the front lawn. Rain has made all the difference.