The latest trend in gardening here “down south” is to establish a garden feature that includes rocks.
Born and raised in Flin Flon, I am somewhat amused to see people paying for boulders and rocks. Who, from Flin Flon, would have thunk it?
The early-days Flin Flonners were essentially rural-based Canadians plus immigrant families from the British Isles and many European countries. These newcomers (in fact, everyone was a newcomer) brought with them a vast knowledge of gardening.
What a shock it must have been as they gazed over Flin Flon’s rocky terrain and wondered how they would ever get a garden going. Establishing a garden or even a lawn was a challenge, especially for those living in the Uptown area as ROCK was a fact of life.
It was through “seek and ye shall find” that people found little niches of garden space in and around the low-fertility soil, muskeg and the solidity of the Shield stone.
My Dad had a small garden plot (1940s) where Rotary Court stands today. In recent conversation with long-time gardener and Flin Flon Horticultural Society member Harry Antoniw, I learned there were once several plots in this area extending from the north end of Tweedsmuir Street to near where Ross Lake Creek enters the lake.
Joe Gorki’s gardens along Beaver Lake Road and Mrs. Mary Machan’s location at Mile 86 were two of the larger market gardens.
Mrs. Machan put up a valiant struggle to grow flowers and vegetables despite being downwind from the smelter stacks. She would walk the tracks from Mile 86 and sell her basket-full of summer bouquets and vegetables door-to-door in the Uptown area.
Mr. Gorki, too, would go from house to house – usually on a Saturday morning. Many a childhood sleep-in reverie was interrupted by a fist pounding on our back door and Mr. Gorki yelling, “KOHLRABI, CABBAGE, ONIONS’!” I think his voice is imprinted on my DNA.
Harry Antoniw described his process of creating a garden in the heavy clay Birchview soil: “Just roto-till in plenty of black soil (dry muskeg) and composted birch leaves.”
While Harry rarely used fertilizer on his garden, others would snare a tub or two of sucker fish and bury them in the soil to, well, rot and thus fertilize the soil. (Not too deep, due to the permafrost.) No doubt appealing to the cats, dogs and coyotes!
Once #10 Highway was opened, people would head for The Pas and bring back (illegally) a trunkful, box or just a bag full of southern soil.
Another challenge was the whims of Flin Flon’s bread-and-butter smelter smoke (pre-tall stack days) – particularly in the Uptown area – especially on a drizzly north-wind day when rolling clouds of lung-searing, plant-withering sulphur-laden smoke would drop onto and into all things. Acid rain? Who knew? Smelter smoke meant that your Dad had a job.
“Mysterious disappearance” (aka garden raiding) added to the gardener’s woes. Harry Antoniw tells of many occasions of theft from his gardens – including 100 of his 200 hills of potatoes!
Pat Murphy (now of Lac la Biche, Alberta) relates: “Yes, Dad and Mom (Norm and Mary) always had a great garden on Green Street. We kids were only allowed in the garden to seed and weed.”
Apparently Norm kept a wary eye on the garden, thus making it difficult for the Murphy kids to snatch a few peas. Pat added, “It didn’t hurt when Dad caught the neighbour’s dog actually going in and picking and eating peas.” Whew, the pressure’s off! Blame the dog! Sound familiar?
Carrot stealing was a kids’ favourite pastime, but Norm seemed to know when a carrot went missing. Pat adds, “Did he count the carrots? Was it footprints? Dad’s reaction was hilarious when he pulled a carrot and all there was a stem.”
Aha! Suspicion! “This happened a few times until he caught a neighbourhood girl pulling a carrot, breaking the carrot off and replanting the stem. Unfortunately or fortunately, she alone took the rap for all those missing carrots.”
Denare Beach gardener Mary Wright commented that in addition to the rewards of produce and flowers, Flin Flonners have an abundant supply of native mushrooms, pin cherries (ew! Sour, eh?) raspberries, low bush cranberries, loganberries, Labrador tea and blueberries.
Blueberry picking was an annual August family endeavour, including the Flux Line Express. There were even secret spots where the berries, as my Dad would proclaim, are “as big as grapes over here.” (They weren’t!).
Happy gardening! Anybody wanna buy a rock?
Vincent Murphy-Dodds is a former Flin Flon resident now living in Regina. His column appears the first Wednesday of the month. Your comments on his column are welcomed. Contact [email protected].
