The ones at the community garden were basically in shade because my plot—unbeknownst to me when we took the plot in the late winter of 2009—was totally shaded by a huge tree until 2PM every day.  Not the best spot for growing veg.  Nonetheless, four of those plants seemed to be staying healthy albeit quite small so I potted them up and brought them home and forgot about them.  One day I had a bare spot in the front garden so I put four of them in the ground and a year later to my great surprise I have purple cauliflower!

Each plant is looking a little different today.  Two have golf-ball sized crowns, one has melon sized crown and one, in this photo, has started to set a bunch of florets instead of a crown. 

Cauliflower Gardeners out there: what should I now do with my purple cauliflower?  I couldn’t imagine after the treacherous life these plants have had that they would provide me with something edible, but they have, and now I wonder if I should harvest them or let them grow larger.  Could it be that each one could become it’s own crown? 

This certainly is no ordinary tale of planting a growing cauliflower, and I would not recommend it, but this sort of chaos is to be expected as I try new things and stray from the traditional ways of doing things (like gardening in rows – for shame!)  I’m sorry to those experienced gardeners with dedicated vegetable plots that are carefully organized and planned that I am making cringe with my tale but for me any experiment that ends with a tasty meal is a success.  And I’m hoping for a tasty meal soon.

Fallen Applesauce Recipe

• 1 crate fallen apples
• apple cider
• water
• 1-2 cups sugar (many of my apples were sweet, so I used less than a cup of sugar.  Plus I like it to taste true to the apples).
• cinnamon sticks, ground cloves, ground nutmeg

Directions:

1. Wash, core and peel the apples (cut out worms or any bruising) only use what you would eat fresh.  No need to peel the apples!
2. Cook the apples, sugar, cinnamon sticks and spices slowly in a cup of cider and a cup of water.  Add more liquid, sugar and/or spices as you cook to get the flavour and consistency you like.  Personal taste is the only rule here!
3. When apples are tender, remove cinnamon sticks and set aside.  Blend apples with an immersion blender until smooth. You can add the cinnamon back in now if you’d like.
4. Continue to add liquid and cook the apples, until you get the consistency and flavour you like. 
5. Ladle into sterile jars leaving 1/4 inch of headspace.
6. Process in a boiling water bath for 10 minutes (adjust for altitude if necessary).  The applesauce can also be frozen if you prefer.

So, I went to my plot (which was about 100 meters from his) and dug my trench.  He came over to inspect my work and pleased with my trench, he took my seed potatoes from me and poured them out on the garden edge.  He took his 60-year-old gardening knife he started hacking at them (hey, wait a minute!): he cut some of the seed potatoes in half (Aaa!  My potatoes!), and then made deep gouges into the other ones (this isn’t what it said on the package!).  Yet despite my alarms I gave into his help and guidance and made an effort to trust this man, his 200-year old method, and his grandmother.  I planted these scarred and bleeding potatoes in my newly dug trench, tucked them in for the night with some soil, and put some sticks on them to prevent the birds from snacking.  Every few days or so, I was to come back and mound the soil up over the first few leaves of the plant.  My new friend said he would “bring me some sand from his beach” to improve my soil and he picked off any large sticks or bark in my soil and swore at them.  He then brought me a handful of worms and said, “My grandmother always told me that if you give someone worms for their potatoes, they will have a bountiful crop.”  I was so very touched as I accepted the worms and set them free into my new potato trench.

A week later, my potatoes had grown a little so I added a bit more soil and some sand I had collected from the beach.  Another week when I went to top up the soil again, I found leaf mould around the edges of the bed.  And another week there were chunks of burned wood scattered around the plants.  Now, a month or so later, my trench has turned into a hill with huge healthy potato plants above and I suppose about 500lbs of potatoes growing below.  I have not seen this man since he taught me to plant potatoes, but he has been at my garden plot watering my potatoes, mounding the soil, and adding his own special brand of magic.  It is this sense of community that I love about gardening: that a man I’ve only met once parents me and my plants while teaching me so much more than just how to grow potatoes.

Six years ago I bought a house in Vancouver, BC, with a yard that was a weedy, mucky mess. I started with just a few plants which grew and bloomed and created so much life to our outdoor space that I realized why people loved their gardens so much. I was hooked. I would daydream about what I could dig up next and what more I could plant.

Since I’m not one to enter into any new project from the shallow end, lucky for me I found a great project in need of help: this wonderful organization which gives jobs to people living with addiction in the Downtown Eastside. They needed a place to grow perennials and, as luck might have it, I had a sunny front yard I was willing to donate. I’m now hosting 400 perennial plants in my front yard. I designed the layout, broke my back digging beds (well, it FELT like it was broken), and planted, and planted, and planted. I was given these unlabeled little green things that I was to care for and I had no idea what they were until they flowered or sprung a distintive leaf. I poured through endless books and websites searching for them. I spent a year with them. And now, years later, I know them intimately. I went from having almost no gardening knowledge, to learning how much there is to know. I have gained great respect for Master Gardeners and farmers and all those garden sages out there (not the herb).

I am no master. I am, however, a quick study and someone who is passionate about learning new things. I took on perennials first, then chased the ever elusive year-round blooming garden, grew an herb garden, wrestled with a veggie garden, and started sprouting in the winter. This year, I’m espalier-ing a 4-Pear tree, I have over 100 varieties of food which I grow as a potager garden in the front of the house and in the back beds, and I have a plot at one of the local community gardens where I meet the most fabulous people. I love to take photos and report snippets that I learn along the way, so here I am, beginning in the middle, reporting on the past, present and future of my wonderful gardening world.

The Zen Garden under the deck provides an great view of the back garden.