What's Growing and What's Not

I'd like to say these came from the alleyway . . .


. . . but they actually came from my husband's garden in the backyard, where the soil is just a bit more productive... And the gardener is okay, too. ;)


But still, we grew them, and I love them!!! My house is normally littered with toys, smeared with food, and covered with crayon drawings on the walls. So I'm really, really enjoying this little breath of beauty beside me as I type.


Here's what is growing in the alleyway this year. So I complained in an earlier post that I couldn't even successfully cultivate a zucchini in the alley. This year, after bags and bags of composted manure, there is a little more success. Here's a pic taken by my four year old (I hadn't even realized he'd snagged the iphone and brought it to the alley in his pocket--later I found the pics and thought, "Wow! A budding photographer!!!").

 But do you notice the yellow and somewhat shriveled end of that one little zucchini? They are still suffering from nutrient deficiency. Last summer, every zucchini, once it reached about an inch in length, shriveled, turned yellow, and fell from the plant. This year, each zucchini received approximately 15 lbs of composted manure in the hole before it was planted, yet I'm still having to give them doses of miracle grow to prevent this zucchini death.

But here's what's growing just great in the alley!!! Raspberries! And besides pruning in the spring, we don't even need to do anything. They just spread and spread. Look for my favourite raspberry recipe from my childhood on the blog tomorrow!

It Smells Like Death, but it is Life!

I bet this precious load will compost down to just a tablespoon.

Urban farming presents some challenges. Space. Sunlight. Ability to compost.

A couple years ago in a rental home, our first dwelling (as adults) with a yard, composting was causing me great anxiety. It was fall, and we were breaking ground for a garden so we'd be prepared come spring. And, in preparation, we started composting, too.

But I literally composted in secret. I scoped out the backyard, choosing a section in the far corner that seemed the least visible to any of the neighbors. I dug a sizable hole, arranged wooden ties around it, and hoped it looked like a raised bed.

When it would be time to do the dirty dumping, I'd scurry out quickly, bowl of food scraps in hand, and try to block the neighbors' view with my body as I emptied the bowl into the hole. I kept a shovel leaning against the fence so I could immediately bury the soon-to-be-stinky secret. I'd sometimes even dump under cover of darkness.

Of course, all of this surely was for naught, since the compost pit soon attracted every crow in the neighborhood. If you were a crow looking for a good time, our back fence was the place to be.

Did our neighbors notice? Did they mind? Were they cursing us and our murder of crows? Could they smell a whiff of anything if they sidled up to the fence? Seriously, these questions plagued me.

Maybe my anxiety was really born out of it being a rental property (we shouldn't have worried, by the way--after we moved, our landlord later called us and told us how happy he'd been when he came by to check out the house, particularly with how well the backyard had been taken care of--so go figure--all that worrying for nothing), because it never even occurred to me to question composting when we moved into the Edmonton house.

I like my neighbors quite a bit. But why would I worry about whether or not they approve of my composting...or my alley gardening for that matter?

Now I figure, anyone who is against composting, or opposed to turning unused urban spaces into something productive...well how valuable can their opinion really be?

So no need to question. Composting is an absolute must!!! This doesn't work in apartments, of course, but if you have access to the outdoors, you can compost. You don't need a fancy system, and you definitely don't need a lot of space. A hole, a bucket, a bin, a pile--any of these will do. If kept moist and full of good flora, your organics will break down into a tiny fraction of their original mass in no time.

And thank goodness, because now in my second summer of reclaiming the alleyway, my poison-soil is still in desperate need of nutrients!!!

It's Poisoned, Poisoned I Say!!!

Who can't grow a freakin' zucchini?!

Me...because I have poisoned earth!

Last spring, our first spring in the Edmonton house, I bagged and disposed of hundreds upon hundreds of pounds of wood chips from the flowerbeds in the front.

It doesn't look like much, but trust me, there are hundreds of pounds of wood chips in that flowerbed.

By the time I got to the alley, I thought I could take a shortcut and just start turning all these millions of wood chips into the dirt.

 I had this naive idea that, if buried, they would simply decompose, adding hummus to the soil and loosening up all the compacted clay and gravel. Don't ever be tempted to do this!

we're evil

The result? Nothing in the alleyway growing, and poor little baby zucchini that were just turning yellow, shriveling up, and falling off when no more than an inch long.

In the Beginning . . .

The Edmonton Alley

This is what I started with last summer. Since we bought the house, I've had a minor obsession with turning our section of this alleyway into something green and productive.

Working in my favour:

• Southern Exposure
• Long summer days (Sunrise at 5 a.m. and Sunset at 10:30 p.m. in the height of summer)
• Fence creates a small microclimate
• Nice long expanse

Working against me:

• This is Edmonton, Alberta -- it's not exactly known for it's gardening. Summer doesn't last long, and the winter is so, so cold.
• Very little real soil; lots of gravel
• Hard, hard, hard, and very difficult to dig through
• Thick bed of cedar wood chips covering the entirety of the alleyway and flower beds (my neighbor, a soil scientist, will later inform me these are a soil sterilant, and they are poisoning everything I try to grow)
• Neighbor's trees casting large shadows through much of the day
• Our own pine and spruce casting shadow, sucking the soil dry, and dropping a constant bed of needles
• Through years of neglect, Canadian thistle has invaded the entire property. It's the only thing that will grow up through the wood chips, and it will prove a constant battle to try to eradicate. No wonder they call it "Hell Lettuce."