Montreal gardeners live – and garden – at the intersection of rue Hope and avenue de la Deception. You will find us out at the verge enthusing about a plant that is “just about to bloom” or that “you only just missed seeing flower.” Then we run madly to cover plants against the weather, pick off slugs and snails, spread blood meal and hair trimmings against squirrels, and generally shake our fists at the heavens, inveighing against the unfairness of it all.
I refused to believe those who told me that this winter was worse than others in Montreal. I felt it was recency bias since every winter I am shocked that I have agreed to live in such a climate. But now, I am convinced. Many of the frailer things in my garden were wiped out. My Asian lilies are all dead, ditto my foxgloves and several of the new clematis I put in last year.
Now we are contending with the rainiest June I can recall. And hail. Sharon wrote to tell me her hostas had been stripped bare by a few minutes of violent hail this week. My garden did not get hail and my hostas survived, but the grey and rain has had an impact. Many of my irises took one look around and said, “I can’t perform under these conditions. Call me next year.”
Photo: Getty Images / FotoDuets
Despite all the precipitation, or perhaps aggravated by it, we may face watering restrictions this summer because our 100-year-old water infrastructure needs repair. Water-logged in June, our gardens may well be crispy frittatas in August with nothing to water them but gardener’s tears. My rain barrel is full to bursting and ready if the city gets serious about water restrictions. Consider this a reminder to get yourself one before the heat and water restrictions kick into high gear.
With the solstice behind us and the FIFA World Cup everywhere, some of the tall plants in my garden have begun to flop like Argentinian full-backs. Speedwell is a serious offender, growing three and half feet tall and then reclining like an odalisque across paths, reaching with languid entitlement over other plants where it has no business being. If it weren’t for the lovely, blue-flowered fingers reaching out and up, I would pull it all out.
The masterwort is like a detailed schematic drawing of a flower, in grey-pink with a small halo of tiny points at its heart. It makes a lovely cut flower. Mine seems to have laughed in the face of the cold and the rain.
Photo: Jeremy Wexler
My Trollius lolls, searching for the diminishing sun. Water-logged peonies nod. Obedient plant (Physostegia virginiana) is a wonder for growing tall and straight no matter what. It has pretty pink cones, and I always hope that the speedwell will see the similarity, feel some shame, and mend its errant ways but so far, no. Obedient plant is also drought-resistant so it may survive the coming summer, even when the rain barrel runs dry. See if you can lay your hands on some and it will reward you.
In other hopeful news, I believe that a blackberry lily that I had given up on is coming back. I don’t do a lot of orange in my garden because I find it can look gaudy, but blackberry lily embraces its gaudiness and makes it tasteful, leopard print at a garden cocktail party. My crane’s-bill geranium — both pink and white, both very tasteful — are flowering more than ever before. The clematis that did survive are doing their thing admirably.
Jeremy Wexler: Hostas vs hail — The trials and tribulations of the Montreal gardener
Photo: Getty Images / JJ Gouin
Have I enthused yet about greater masterwort? It is like a detailed schematic drawing of a flower, in grey-pink with a small halo of tiny points at its heart. It makes a lovely cut flower. Mine seems to have laughed in the face of the cold and the rain. Maybe it was shy on account of the showy irises and so it is taking the lack of competition as a chance to let its highly-organized freak flag fly.
You see, I am doing it again. Hoping. Getting excited. Thinking about all the plants that are thriving. Everything that is waiting to happen in the garden when the weather cooperates. When the critters take a long holiday. When my garden gets just a little more sun. This is the constitutional foible that keeps Montreal gardeners coming back for more. More heartache, more joy.
Tell me how the plants around you are fairing. What have been your garden heartbreaks and/or joys this year? jeremywexler9@gmail.com
Jeremy Wexler is an avid amateur Montreal gardener and reader of garden writing. His regular columns for The Suburban.com speak to dedicated home gardeners, interested beginners, and people who are happy to simply read and never get their hands dirty. If you have a question, a tale of woe or a favourite plant, Jeremy will read everything you send to jeremywexler9@gmail.com
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