Planting a floating island
It was during a cold snap in December, when the gardening club assembled at the Floating Garden Barge to assemble and plant a floating island. Starting after lunch, we had a small window of winter light in which to do the planting. It was a moment for quiet winters preparation for the next phase in the cycle of the canal’s life; plantlings ready to bed down and establish themselves in time for the nesting ducks in the spring.
Inside the barge it was toasty warm, and when the cold got to our bones, we went inside to warm our hands around cups of tea. Slow time engulfed me looking out at the water from the quiet barge while the others carried on with the planting outside. The floating platform will be for the coots and moorhens, who can slip through the gaps in the wire fencing; safe from the swans and geese who cannot land with such precision. It will be for the creatures who live by slow time, grounded and present, in one of the busiest transport interchanges in the city. I am reminded that slow time still exists, that I can still be on ground, small and present if I remember to be.
To get the plants into the platform was a challenge; the instructions described a rolling motion which took us a while to work out. However we discovered that the job was easier in pairs; if one person rolled back the mesh while the other popped the plant inside – there was great satisfaction to be had in this teamwork. We planted marsh marigolds, lesser pond sedge and greater tussock sedge, hard rush and yellow loosestrife and, feet frozen in my thin socks, I imagined the lush foliage that these plants will grow come summer.
Soon the platform was planted, darkness had fallen, and the temperature dropped further.
Excitement mounted for the launch. While ropes were attached and logistics discussed, we warmed up with chai and delicious soup delivered from the Story Garden by Chaneti. Then, very slowly, with many hands-on deck and the rest of us watching from the side-lines, we lowered the floating platform into the water. Maybe in the spring a coot or a moorhen will decide to build their nest on our floating platform. For now though our work is done, and I think it looks great in the water behind the barge.
Notes from the Garden
I wake to a bright crisp winter’s day. Finally … after weeks of storms ravaging the country.
As the year ends we are reminded of the magic and beauty that our gardens bring, as places to come together and celebrate, even in difficult times. This year it has been challenging not to be taken over by fear and despair, with extreme weather events being mirrored in different ways across the world, from floods to droughts; with the most recent political events; with wars destroying land and displacing entire populations; and with the constant increase in the cost of living creating ever more inequalities between those that have and those that do not.