The Garden at Breaking Point, Alberta (Treaty 8 Territory)

The Garden began as a reaction to climate change: historic rainfalls led to flooding in late summer 2013. The next summer (while supporting my mum through cancer treatments), I started digging the dry watercourse as a rain diversion feature on the southwest side of the house. It has …grown since then. The watercourse now stretches ~200 feet across what was once a boring stretch of thirsty lawn. It is bordered by island beds of shrubs, sub-shrubs, and cottage plantings. In 2020, supercharged (AKA “new normal”) El Niño rains drowned nearly everything in the yard, including my hopes for a pandemic veg garden. Undeterred, I built raised beds on the site of the old garden. They are hugelkultur beds in the sense that they only have 5-6 inches of soil — the rest is rotting poplar, kindly chunked into pieces by the lads who removed windfall risks along the power-line corridor a decade ago. The rotting wood slowly releases nutrients, but most importantly, it holds heat and moisture. Because the beds are raised, the soil temperature is warmer which means an earlier start (it’s 57.07° North!), but also faster drying times. The hugelkultur technique mitigates water loss, and can be adapted to a lot of New Normal/End of Times gardening. Another great strategy that I use extensively is a permaculture technique fondly referred to as “cardboard lasagna”. Basically, you interleave flattened cardboard boxes, top with mulch or compost, and plant with annuals. The second year, the cardboard will be rotted down enough to cut into, and you can plant in perennials, give it all a good mulch, and forget about it until you go out to take photos. Some tap-rooted weeds like our best friend the dandelion (miyoaskamiwaskos) will poke through, but most weeds are well-controlled. Even better, you won’t need to water except for a couple weeks after the addition of any new plants.

Can you tell I’m enthusiastic about this place? I’d love to take you on a tour, but as it’s 950 miles away from The ‘Peg, it will perforce be a digital journey. Imagine the bees, the boreal songbirds, the scent of chokecherry blossoms and silver willow on the evening spring air, the late summer screeches of northern harrier juveniles, the mournful evening call of sandhill cranes. Coyote pups yipping back in the bush. Geese overhead. The nip of an autumn morning, the burst of sun-warmed tomato on your tongue. These things are medicines for my spirit, and I hope you will be inspired to grow some for yours.