Gardening for beginners

and a recipe for Lazy Daisy Oatmeal Cake that requires no second guessing

I wish I could say that 26 years of gardening has made me an infallible pro.

But when you come from owning a garden that’s a part shady leafy space and partial sunshine to a new home whose terraces are flooded with all day sun, all bets are off. One shift of light and perspective, and I’m back to starting all over again.

At first, I thought it would be as easy as changing my buying habits. Garden centres, after all, make it pretty foolproof when it comes to selecting the right thing. Shade annuals, this way. Full sun perennials, over here.

Detailed tags with how many hours of sun are required, whether the plant will spread or shoot up, its drought tolerance, whether or not that tiny green thing will eventually be full of flowers and three feet high. Helpful and friendly staff, their farmers’ tans already showing, wide shady brims atop and sturdy mud-crusted boots below. All the ingredients to make good gardening decisions.

Yet, if I’m honest, it’s my eternal optimism that has always been my gardening undoing.

optimism

[ op-tuh-miz-uhm ]

noun

1. hopefulness and confidence about the future or the successful outcome of something.
   “Her optimism helped the team push through difficult times.”

We gardeners are bound by the irrefutable laws of Mother Nature. Roses need sun to bloom, as do showy and cheerful geraniums, giddy pansies, big beautiful billowing peonies. Climbing hydrangeas thrive in a shady sun-dappled spot, making nice with hellebores, ferns and Japanese anemones as neighbours. And my heart’s Holy Grail—tomatoes—insist on basking in the full spotlight of the sun to reach their juicy, triumphant best.

Of course, I know all this to be true. As with many things, it’s been the abundance of choice that’s been my gardening downfall in the past. Time and again, against my better judgement or the advice of a well meaning gardener friend, I’ve chosen the bright pretty things—the tropical bougainvillea that wants nothing more than to sleep in the sun all day; elusive Martha Washington geraniums, shasta daisies, all the dahlias, campanula, ranunculus.

The first bouquet of gorgeous campanula, ranunculus and tulips from Woolerdale Farm

A garden is always a series of losses set against a few triumphs, like life itself.

—May Sarton, Belgian-American poet, novelist, and memoirist

Still, I have my small victories, my little wins that punch above their weight in joy. The hosta that came back this year, despite the odds; my pretty coral rosebush, thick with glossy green leaves and the promise of buds to follow; the valiant sage and lavender that never lost their leaves and are both now full and about to bloom.

And now I know enough to buy a mandevilla for a season of happiness, and no more, and to say goodbye when the first frost comes. The bougainvillea has pride of place in our dining room, where it’s protected from the wind yet still is sun-kissed all day, giving back with an abundance of blooms every few weeks that leave me giddy with pink.

While I froze the tulip bulbs this past winter (note to self: don’t plant the bulbs in pots in November), every day I’m learning, an eager student at the feet of Persephone. In these latent days of spring, I watch as she weaves her pomegranate crown with almond blossoms and wild poppies, and my faith in garden magic is restored.

In every gardener there is a child who believes in The Seed Fairy

— Robert Brault, writer and aphorist

No matter the place, the season, the plant or my outsized expectations, I do believe in the Seed Fairy. Somehow, I have absolute confidence that, in due course, my little pocket garden in the sky will be absolutely perfect, the plants chosen for their sun-sensibility, the tomato plants laden with fruit, the containers coming back year after year—each one remembering exactly what it was born to become.

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Lazy Daisy Oatmeal Cake

The Mary Moore Cookbook, Mary Moore

I’ve written about Mary Moore before, the Canadian home economist whose first newspaper column sparked a 50-year career. Moore’s recipes appeared in dozens of newspapers nationwide. Clipped and saved by thousands—including my mother—her columns were filled with warmth, humour and common-sense guidance.

Her recipe for Lazy Daisy Cake is a perfect example—simple, comforting, and unfailingly good, with a broiled coconut topping that tastes like something much more indulgent than it is. The lazy part? No icing to make, and ingredients easily found in your cupboard. It’s the perfect treat after a day spent in the garden.

Note: The original recipe in Moore’s book calls for more sugar than the recipe below; I’ve modified it but you’ll still find it plenty sweet. If you use sweetened flaked coconut, you’ll also add more sweetness to the final result, so choose accordingly.

Ingredients

1 cup uncooked rolled oats (instant or regular)

1¼ cups boiling water

1½ cups all-purpose flour

1 teaspoon baking soda

1 teaspoon salt

¾ teaspoon cinnamon

¼ teaspoon nutmeg

½ cup butter

½ cup granulated sugar (see Note)

¾ cup brown sugar (see Note)

1 teaspoon vanilla

2 eggs

Topping

⅓ cup butter

⅔ cup brown sugar (packed)

¾ cup flaked coconut (sweetened or unsweetened; see Note)

½ cup chopped raw almonds

¼ cup milk

1. In shallow bowl soak rolled oats in boiling water 20 minutes. Set side to cool.

2. Sift together the flour, baking soda, salt and spices and set aside.

3. Place the butter and sugars into a stand mixer or beat with a hand mixer until light, about 5 minutes.

4. Beat in the eggs one at a time, combining thoroughly before adding the next egg. Add the vanilla and beat to combine. Remove the bowl from the stand mixer.

5. Fold the cooled soaked oats into the batter. Sift the flour mixture over the batter and fold in.

6. Turn the batter into a buttered 9 × 9″ pan, lined with parchment paper at the bottom. Bake at 350°F for 40 to 50 minutes, or until the cake springs back to the touch. If the cake is browning too quickly, cover with aluminum foil and continue baking until done.

Just before the cake is finished, prepare the topping.

Melt the butter in a medium skillet over medium heat. Add the brown sugar, flaked coconut and almonds. Stirring frequently, cook for a few minutes until the mixture is bubbly. Turn down the heat to low, add the milk and stir to combine. Keep warm.

To finish the cake

Remove the cake from the oven and set on a wire rack. Turn the oven to broil, leaving the rack in the middle of the oven. With the cake still in the pan, and while it is still hot, spread with the warm prepared topping. Put the cake back in the oven and broil until the topping is bubbly and tinged with gold, about two to four minutes. Watch closely so that the top doesn’t burn.

Cool on a wire rack and serve it forth.