At the beginning of the pandemic, I was anxious to maximize food production in every available space not already growing native plant habitat. That meant bumping up production in the walkway between our house and the neighbour’s.
Tomatoes, peppers and basil in the sunny walkway beside the house.
Herbs also do well in pots in this spot.
Next year, more kale!
I love this 3 Sisters planting in a front yard in west-end Toronto, and I love the sign beside it even more.
I’ve made a new friend: rock harlequin (Corydalis sempervirens, aka Capnoides sempervirens), a fumitory.
Rock harlequin (Corydalis sempervirens) in our front garden.
I’d vaguely known about this plant (I love all the fumitories) but had never grown it until this year, when Jonas Spring (aka Ecoman) gave me a seedling and suggested I plant it in a gravelly, poor-soil spot. I had just the place—a small sunny corner beside the wild blue lupine (Lupinus perennis). (I read later that rock harlequin grows in Midwestern oak savannas, too.)
I immediately fell for its lacy foliage, but it’s the delicate, tubular, bi-coloured flowers that really captured my heart: peachy pink and yellow.
My love for this little charmer grew even stronger when I was surprised by a little patch of it during a canoe trip at Point Grondine Park. There it was, blooming on some rocks at our campsite, and I felt such a deep connection between our temporary living quarters on the granite Shield and out little patch of garden at home.
Rock harlequin (Corydalis sempervirens) at Point Grondine Park.
Very much hoping that this biennial self-seeds and shows up in the garden again next year.
Is there anything better than the feeling you get when the beds are all prepared and ready for planting?
Everything feels full of opportunity and promise. And weed-free!
The long view
I am planting this public boulevard site with native sedges and some native flowers with the hope of inspiring others to tend to such spaces and create habitat.