Hand Tools + Hard Labour = Fun On Saltspring

Andre, left, and John in vigorous battle against  the stump of a holly tree that had gotten out of control.

At first it was a modest holly tree. Then it was a higher holly tree twined through with blackberry vines, a good source of juicy fat blackberries every summer. Then it was a 12-foot holly tree with blackberry vines (and not so many blackberries) being engulfed by voracious English ivy.

In short, it was a mess. It was even starting to seem scarily out of control.

After 25 years of watching the holly tree in the back yard of our Saltspring Island property go through those different phases, we fell on it this week with saws, clippers big and small, spades and shovels, a trowel, a rake, a hatchet, a heavy-duty pry-bar, an axe and a mattock.

Not just us – two senior citizens beginning to feel their vulnerabilities – but us and three hardy friends who once kayaked/paddleboarded around Saltspring Island in a day. Andre, Margo and Alison joined the attack on the holly tree  after a several-hour paddleboard/kayak trip that morning.

Andre and John led the assault on the tree itself, eventually uncovering not just a frightened rat, but the fact that the holly had grown right beside a Douglas Fir stump, now decomposing into sawdust and bark. Margo and I clipped the holly, ivy and blackberry vines into manageable chunks. Alison tirelessly dug all around the stump, rooting out the tangled vines that had formed a carpet of weeds over many, many years.

Intrepid friends hacking away at the holly stump and vine roots.

John on stump, with Andre, Alison and Margo backing him up.

The first day’s attack left about three feet of holly-tree stump above an impressive root. The second day, after two hours of slicing, hacking, digging, chopping and prying, Andre and John felt the giant root begin to wiggle. A little more chopping, some furious spadework, some clearing out of rocks, a lot of standing-on, shouldering and pushing at the stump, and finally – it was out. Then cheers and much brandishing of weapons as the victors stood on the root like a beast they had slain.

  It could have been easier. A chainsaw could have sliced the tree down to ground level and we could have left it at that. We could have pretended the vine roots in the ground wouldn’t regrow, and quietly sliced away at them for years to come. But hand tools and hard labour! How much more fun is that!

A job like this takes plenty of tools; everybody used something different.

Andre, left, keeps digging while John supervises.

It took a lot of digging and chopping to get out the "root of all evil," as Andre put it.

Part of the work was just wrestling the stump.

Once the stump started to wiggle, the two labourers had some hope.

 

Victory at last!

Pre-massacre holly tree to right of photo. A pile of brambles, in centre, has already been removed. 

New House Comes With Hugels

Well, my brother Brian and his wife Wendy’s new house in a Courtenay cohousing community is very nice, but what I really liked were the hugels.

 “What’s that?” I asked when I spotted “active hugel” on a sign stuck into what looked like a mound of brush and leaves. We were on a tour of their new nine-acre community, some of which remains deliciously wild, with a creek and pond, treed areas and lots of space for gardening-related activities. I learned that hugel – a new word to me – equates to mound of garden waste being transformed into excellent new compost. The community my relatives have joined take composting very very seriously.

Garden waste on the active hugel.

Besides the hugels at three stages of decomposition, there were four big wooden bins for kitchen waste, each dug through weekly. By week four (and there’s a marker, you bet!) the banana and potato peelings are black compost, ready for use. 

The finger fence hedge for bugs and critters.

Then there’s the finger fence, where branches thicker than your little finger are piled into a long hedge with other garden detritus to provide homes for critters and insects. All this composting is an indication of the gardening bent of the community, which includes a large garden area with both individual and common plots. Residents can help themselves from the latter, where the early-October tomatoes were still delicious, the kale was flourishing, and anyone wanting herbs for a recipe needed only scissors. 

Great veggies grow here.

Garden shed hints at hard work and relaxation.

The passion for gardening was also evident in the residential area of the community, where three pods of six duplexes each nestled into a landscape of trees and plantings that would put many botanical gardens to shame. Common areas and house fronts all sported a wide variety of trees and shrubs; I wasn’t surprised to hear that an experienced arborist is among the residents. 

Brian and Wendy's front door, behind the trees.

Brian and Wendy's new home, a three-bedroom duplex, was very pleasant, but once again the natural surroundings were a major feature. The front door was almost hidden behind the front-yard plantings. The living room opened out into a back patio in a small garden. Best of all, the dining area looked out into a narrow, beautifully planted side garden with a rose arbor, a birdbath, and plantings providing privacy from neighbours. 

 It seems that my relatives didn’t so much buy a house as join a gardening community. I'm already benefiting – now I know what a hugel is!

Common house for events and get-togethers.

Tree house in the woods where kids can play.

For the birds

 

The first occupants of our new birdhouse are busy building a nest.

I must admit that when my nephew and his wife presented us with this birdhouse as a gift last year, I thought it might be a little elaborate. 

Would any real-life birds find their way into this two-level arrangement, even if it did have the cutest little log pile and a beautifully weathered driftwood perch out front? What would they make of the rustic/nautical theme, the ropes above the openings, and the sign: "Cheap rent"?

But John put it up anyway, high above the potential range of neighbourhood cats. And when this spring rolled around, surprise, surprise. We looked up one day to see birds flying in and out of the new birdhouse, their beaks full of moss.

We'll never know what our new neighbours think of their home's decor, but clearly it's no deterrent to raising a family there. It will be fun to see their offspring teetering on the log pile, right beside the "Cheap rent" sign.

Dolphins delight on drizzly day

 

Dolphins romp at Dundarave beach, as a cargo boat heads into harbour.

March 11, 2025. Trump is in the White House, threatening to annex Canada. Canada is between one unpopular prime minister and the unknown quantity about to replace him. Local and provincial politics are in turmoil, and the weather is drizzly. Nothing like wandering down to a beach, then, and being reminded there's a whole other world out there.  

About 20 feet off Dundarave beach in West Vancouver on Tuesday morning, the dolphins were chasing each other in circles, leaping in the air, waving their tails, like joyous kids at a party. We delayed our seawall walk to watch, unwilling to miss a moment of the spectacle. Then one broke out of the circle and sped off. Almost instantaneously, the rest followed, vanishing along the shoreline like a fleet of little motorboats. 

Thanks for the reminder, dolphins. Our walk was happier because of you.

Fifteen to 20 dolphins were swimming in circles, probably to catch some kind of fish down there.