The Canadian cottage garden in mid-August, 2023

Not a large garden but a cottage garden; not manicured and trimmed and finely rounded edges and borders, but a garden that makes its own shape, that makes its borders temporary, they may be different next summer, or they may be the same. More of a comfortable old chair with a throw and an open book on the floor than a formal garden with box hedges and roses. A garden of flowers, large displays of flowers, all perennials to reduce the work but also because perennials have a soul unto themselves, they return, they multiply, they are frugal in work but great in display. They return and return and always give more than they take. A place of solitude. A place of insects, butterflies, bees, and spiders, and of birds visiting the bird baths. A small garden that contains much. A garden born from where it began, a place where little was growing, a place of grass and a single old apple tree. Now, it is a place of walks between garden beds, flowers, and giving the appearance of being larger than it is.

A crow visits the bird bath

In the garden, always a visitor, or is it a resident? A crow visits the bird bath and spends some time preening and having time out from his crow's life.

Watching birds on a spring day

The main thing with a bird bath is to put in clean water everyday, no one (including birds) wants to sit in dirty or shallow water, or drink dirty water. Changing the water will take you all of three or four minutes and is worth the effort. The birds will thank you, too.

Return to the hidden trail

First walk this spring on the hidden trail which is on a ridge above the train tracks from the Westminster Bridge to Meadowbrook Golf Course. Access to the trail is below the bridge on the north side.

And, of course, wonderful sounds: birds singing, a train passes (a Canadian sound we all know), water running down to the tracks, and always more birds. 

But I am not impressed with all of the stuff that has been dumped in the area beside the trail: old tires, BBQs, garden junk, people think the world is their personal garbage can. BTW, we don't say "trash" here in Canada, it's just plain old "garbage".

And now there are notices posted saying this area will become part of a larger nature trail through this area. I heard of this before, it seems to be a joint Hydro Quebec - City of Montreal project, to clear the way between different sections of electrical pylons and create new trails that are connected and cross this part of the city . . . they say it will be the country in the city. It's a good idea, I guess, but I don't like losing this trail as it is. However, everything changes -- the St. Pierre River is covered over, the trail will be changed, and so on --. And how long will it be before this happens? At the rate government moves it will be years. So, for once, not worrying. 

Return of the crows

Summery weather has arrived, early this year, it's been +20 - +25 C since last Friday, and I've been outside raking the grass of last winter's debris; litter, dirt, twigs, some fast food wrappings, all of it collected in the snow over the last four or five months of winter. Fresh air, blue sky, birds singing, plants coming up, buds on trees and bushes, and a feeling of renewal, and genuine renewal, and how quickly we forget what we've just been through: a long winter, short days, heating bills. One of the first things I did when this good weather arrived was put water in the bird bath and almost right away there was a crow visiting, usually in the morning. Perhaps this is the time, in the spring, when crows visit the most, not only for a drink of water but to soak their food in water, and after they leave there are peculiar white stringy things they've found in the garbage at a local Chinese restaurant. Later there will be more birds at the bird bath; however, crows are always welcome and are certainly entertaining. 

Photos taken from our dining room window with an IPhone.

Added photos

Farewell, Tree

We've just had some of the big snow storm that crippled parts of Canada and the United States; some people here lost electricity due to the strong winds but, overall, Montreal was spared the very worst of the storm. But what wasn't spared was a tree we had at the front of the house; it was never much of a tree and for years I had a wire connected from the tree to the wall of the house, to hold it just in case it fell over. 

Now the tree is gone. We planted the tree at least twenty years ago; farewell twenty years of growing, Tree; farewell to 20 to 25 feet in height, Tree. The tree didn't collapse, it broke under the weight of the snow. Then I had the job of cutting it up; which, against my self-doubts, I did. 

I was of two minds regarding losing the tree. I wanted the tree but not necessarily this tree . . . although better this tree than no tree at all which is what I now have. It was never a great tree, it was a good enough tree; it tended to thinning out, but a few years ago I topped the tree and forced the growth to the bottom branches and the whole tree filled out nicely. That improved the tree. A tree, even this tree, adds a lot to the landscaping of a house, remove the tree and you are no longer distracted from the house that needs painting, pointing, and general maintenance. And I am basically a tree lover and don't like to cut down any tree. Farewell, Tree . . .

I wasn't sure I was up to cutting up the tree; I'm not young, but I did it. And then, a few days after the tree collapsed, I noticed from a basement window chick-a-dees walking around under the cut branches of the tree, finding something to eat. They missed the tree. And later, outside, I saw chick-a-dees sitting on the cut branches, I felt like a traitor to the birds, but I wasn't, I didn't cause the tree to break, all I did was cut up the branches. But the chick-a-dees missed the tree. And then I remembered that I used to sit in our living room, just a few feet from where the tree had been outside, and I could hear chick-a-dees in the tree, they'd sit on the branches, they used the tree, they liked the tree, they were happy in the tree, and here I was cutting up the branches. So, now, the tree has to be replaced with another tree.

Farewell, Tree

Farewell, Tree

That's the tree, on the left, in October

That's the tree, on the right

And now I miss the tree. 

How wrong could I be?

Only a month ago we had +20 C weather (that's 68 degrees Fahrenheit), the colours of nature were brilliant and gave variety and life to things, but now late fall and the approach of winter has been pulled over our heads like a large wool sweater and it is a grey world we're living in, reduced, monochromatic, cold (-5 C or 23 F), dull, and uninviting. 

Out walking, when I approached Meadowbrook Golf Course I saw this long line of cars and people standing around, my first thought was that there must be an extraordinarily rare bird in the swampy area to the right of the road and all of these people had gathered to see this bird, or maybe a deer was there, or a bear, the Bear Clan are just a few miles away . . . of course, I was wrong, stupidly wrong, projecting my own interests on a lot of parked cars and men standing around waiting for the golf course to open, possibly for the last time this season. But I would have preferred my scenario and seen some extraordinary bird before it took to the air and flew south for the winter.

A busy day at the bird bath

I thought they'd flown south but here they are, the birds are back. It's been a mild fall so far, sunny, blue sky, great weather to go for a walk. Meanwhile, back at home, the birds are having a great time at the bird bath. Photos taken on November 8, 2022.