It’s already November.  I would like to say that the garden has been put to bed, but that only got half way to happening.  And the brick path that didn’t get installed in the spring; well it didn’t happen in October either.  It’s not that I’ve been idle, as the project of the last six months – the ‘cobbage’ as we affectionately call it – has taken a lot of my gardening time.  The cobbage is a small cob & frame building that will be part of the nursery that I am opening in spring 2012.  The building is now at the plastering stage, so it’s almost finished, but the sudden cold temperatures are making work challenging for me as my hands don’t co-operate when they are wet and cold.  And just when I thought we were almost done building I have decided that the greenhouse part of the nursery shouldn’t be a purchased greenhouse but should be home built with a cobbed back wall.  Admittedly, I’m somewhat relieved that it can’t happen until the spring when it will be warm enough for the cob to dry.  For those who want to view additional cobbage images go to the gallery or click here.

Anyway, I have been getting into the garden and cleaning my greenhouse in fits and starts but I need to get more motivated.  Soon I will have to move all my small pots of lavender inside, and I don’t know how I’m going to fit them all in there.  I spend many moments wandering about the garden thinking where I could tuck in a large cold frame and end up mentally redesigning the beds, moving the raspberries and so on.  Not very productive musings maybe, but enjoyable nonetheless.

I did get some garlic planted.  I always love garlic because it connects the growing seasons.  Just when the garden is winding down, I am off to the beach to collect seaweed to throw into the cleared and composted planting bed for next year’s garlic.  I like the link between the years and I like having something to check on when winter has its mild periods and the garlic starts to sprout.  That little bit of growth shows promise for the year ahead and helps to keep me going when I am struggling from a lack of sun and warmth.

This is also the time when I can be more honest about what worked and what didn’t work in the garden.  Like that straggly climbing rose over the entrance arbour – it is going to go – but what to plant instead that works with the clematis growing up the other side?  The dwarf apple tree that died – should I risk planting the lemon verbena outside in that space?  How can I better use this garden space?  What did I grow that really wasn’t worth it?  These are all good questions to mull over with a pencil, paper and seed catalogues when settled close to the woodstove during the next couple of months.  Because before I know it, it’ll be time to start again in earnest.

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