Today I finished the 'topiary' on our large wild rose. This is not a precise term, as wild roses usually flourish in hedgerows and weave themselves in among the vegetation. Ours was sitting solitary on an untenanted (at the time) communal orchard and we moved it. Now that plot is thriving and is tended by some pleasant Romanians from a smallholding family, but I digress...
The rose, which we removed some years ago, was intended as rootstock. My husband was going to graft in a cultivated rose bud (he learned this in his first job working for a rose-grower south of the River). But time, other jobs and other priorities arose. (If you will excuse the pun). The rose thrived, grew and sent out many strong vertical shoots which we wove into a somewhat ramshackle trellis. This week we trimmed these back and wove in fresh shoots as best we could.
Our rose is now something between a rambler, a windbreak and a wildlife resource. Every autumn it gives us a show of bright rosehips. Perhaps one day I will make rosehip jelly from these. Thus far I have left them for the birds.
Today I looked 'through' the arch of our rose to the trees beyond it; the cherry, the Bramley apple and the eating apple at the end of the plot and remarked to M that I have my very own arbour. Famous garden writers and designers are paid good money for features like this.
Thursday 19 December 2013
Wednesday 18 December 2013
Renovation Pruning - older fruit trees
We consulted the Royal Horticultural Society's (RHS) November 2013 magazine for advice on pruning our largest apple tree. We have not done any substantial pruning of this tree, (although once in my novice days I cut off too many fruit bud branches) so I reckoned that we should count this as Year 1.
The first sentence read The initial priority is to restore the tree's health. So we went down to the plot armed with loppers and a saw as well as the customary secateurs.
The tree, which produces lovely eating apples, is on the boundary of one plot and overshadows a woodland bed I am creating with primulas, daffodils, hellebores and miniature irises. It was pruned in the past, but looking at it with fresh eyes I could see all manner of crossing branches that had been allowed to grow. We removed some of these. It took two of us, I held the branch and my husband used the saw.
Then I made a circuit of the perimeter of the tree shortening branches where possible and stood back. The advice is to open up the centre of the tree's crown to improve air circulation - hence the taking out of crossing branches - and also to remove one branch in four that is misplaced, unproductive or old.
Looking on the positive side, the tree is now certainly more open to the sunlight and air and I have left lots of fruit bearing branches on it. But it is above the recommended height and there are some branches that I might not have spared for the moment. As in horticulture so in life, this is a 'work in progress'.
The first sentence read The initial priority is to restore the tree's health. So we went down to the plot armed with loppers and a saw as well as the customary secateurs.
The tree, which produces lovely eating apples, is on the boundary of one plot and overshadows a woodland bed I am creating with primulas, daffodils, hellebores and miniature irises. It was pruned in the past, but looking at it with fresh eyes I could see all manner of crossing branches that had been allowed to grow. We removed some of these. It took two of us, I held the branch and my husband used the saw.
Then I made a circuit of the perimeter of the tree shortening branches where possible and stood back. The advice is to open up the centre of the tree's crown to improve air circulation - hence the taking out of crossing branches - and also to remove one branch in four that is misplaced, unproductive or old.
Looking on the positive side, the tree is now certainly more open to the sunlight and air and I have left lots of fruit bearing branches on it. But it is above the recommended height and there are some branches that I might not have spared for the moment. As in horticulture so in life, this is a 'work in progress'.
Tuesday 17 December 2013
Another fence story
Yesterday some kind friends provided winter employment for us. We set about methodically stripping ivy from their fence tendril by tendril. Once the ivy had gone, the wooden panels looked rather tattered and weatherbeaten. Their neighbour came out to see what we were doing.
Encounters with the folk next door can be trying. The words I dread are the request to stop messing with their plants and leave the fence alone followed by a long diatribe against the people who are employing us. The issues, unlike the ivy, are rarely clear cut, and although we often assume that the neighbour is in the wrong, there are two sides to the fence.
Our friends are blessed with a lovely neighbour. She thanked us for taking the ivy away and said that they were intending to replace the fence in the spring and that we had started well. Much relief.
Our friend, a fellow northerner, looked at the fence afterwards and wondered if most of the panels, with a little tinkering, could be saved. We feel that they should let the neighbours replace them all. But that is another story.
Encounters with the folk next door can be trying. The words I dread are the request to stop messing with their plants and leave the fence alone followed by a long diatribe against the people who are employing us. The issues, unlike the ivy, are rarely clear cut, and although we often assume that the neighbour is in the wrong, there are two sides to the fence.
Our friends are blessed with a lovely neighbour. She thanked us for taking the ivy away and said that they were intending to replace the fence in the spring and that we had started well. Much relief.
Our friend, a fellow northerner, looked at the fence afterwards and wondered if most of the panels, with a little tinkering, could be saved. We feel that they should let the neighbours replace them all. But that is another story.
Thursday 12 December 2013
Shrubberies
This week my husband obtained some more self-seeded holly weeded out from a customer's garden. I was trying to bring shape to her overgrown thicket of snowberries (Symphoricarpos).
The holly was destined for a home grown 'shrubbery' on a corner of our plot in front of the 'new fence'. We hope the plants will eventually fill out and flourish. At the back are various pieces of old fencing where we are re-establishing the honeysuckle which was dislodged by the 'new fence'. Then come a row of four tiny holly saplings. Positioned in a gap is a dwarf conifer that we once used as a substitute Christmas tree. Then an unwanted rhododendron from the customer with the snowberries - it had grown out laterally from the parent plant and rooted in - two jostaberries propagated from cuttings and finally a damson tree which is a transplanted offshoot of our large established tree. All, save the conifer, obtained free of charge.
As I look at our 'pocket handkerchief' shrubbery it brings me great pleasure. The paid work of pruning is never entirely done. But here, in small scale, is our own miniature and manageable shrubbery.
The holly was destined for a home grown 'shrubbery' on a corner of our plot in front of the 'new fence'. We hope the plants will eventually fill out and flourish. At the back are various pieces of old fencing where we are re-establishing the honeysuckle which was dislodged by the 'new fence'. Then come a row of four tiny holly saplings. Positioned in a gap is a dwarf conifer that we once used as a substitute Christmas tree. Then an unwanted rhododendron from the customer with the snowberries - it had grown out laterally from the parent plant and rooted in - two jostaberries propagated from cuttings and finally a damson tree which is a transplanted offshoot of our large established tree. All, save the conifer, obtained free of charge.
As I look at our 'pocket handkerchief' shrubbery it brings me great pleasure. The paid work of pruning is never entirely done. But here, in small scale, is our own miniature and manageable shrubbery.
Wednesday 11 December 2013
Grapevines - Part One
We went to the plot yesterday to prune the outdoor grapevine, the one we use for grape juice. Winter is the appropriate time of year to prune vines because they are dormant and the sap will not 'bleed' from the cut.
Before we set out I made sure that I consulted the book. When I taught ESOL my tutors used to say, always make sure that you understand the grammar point before you teach it. It is the same in gardening. As I read the book I learned that grapevines bear fruit on new wood and that they should be cut back to the first bud on that new wood. This sounds, and is indeed, pretty drastic. Nevertheless, in the spring, from that first bud a strong shoot emerges bearing flowers and then fruit.
M and I arrived in bright sunshine and looked at our sprawling vines which had shed all their leaves. First lesson - differentiate old wood which supports the new growth from new. The old is knarled and thick, the new is light brown and breaks easily. I demonstrated the correct angle of pruning to M, but yesterday she was happier to cut up stuff small for the brown bin. (When we have sharpened her secateurs maybe she will have another go.)
I worked my way methodically over the whole vine while M chopped. It did indeed look much tidier.
I casually mentioned to M (who has Continental ancestry) that they do things differently there. M looked at our eating grapes and said she saw no reason not to try. I think we will soon be doing viticulture 'for real', training our young vines .
I have given M the reference book.
Before we set out I made sure that I consulted the book. When I taught ESOL my tutors used to say, always make sure that you understand the grammar point before you teach it. It is the same in gardening. As I read the book I learned that grapevines bear fruit on new wood and that they should be cut back to the first bud on that new wood. This sounds, and is indeed, pretty drastic. Nevertheless, in the spring, from that first bud a strong shoot emerges bearing flowers and then fruit.
M and I arrived in bright sunshine and looked at our sprawling vines which had shed all their leaves. First lesson - differentiate old wood which supports the new growth from new. The old is knarled and thick, the new is light brown and breaks easily. I demonstrated the correct angle of pruning to M, but yesterday she was happier to cut up stuff small for the brown bin. (When we have sharpened her secateurs maybe she will have another go.)
I worked my way methodically over the whole vine while M chopped. It did indeed look much tidier.
I casually mentioned to M (who has Continental ancestry) that they do things differently there. M looked at our eating grapes and said she saw no reason not to try. I think we will soon be doing viticulture 'for real', training our young vines .
I have given M the reference book.
Monday 2 December 2013
Clearance
Our ongoing work on the 'wildlife hedge' of our orchard plot is now inspired by the new (replacement) fence. This weekend I transplanted two jostaberry bushes to fill a gap in the bed that has the honeysuckle. The damson tree that we moved there a couple of seasons ago now has room to breathe and more sunlight. M is coming tomorrow armed with the loppers to cut out more dead bramble canes.
Working from left to right we uncovered a rambling rose that we had wrongly assumed belonged to a household over the fence. We can now prune it and train it along the hedgeline.
As we cut out the dead blackberries we plan to replace them with a live hedge specifically holly which self-seeds in many of the gardens we tend. Our customers will be glad if we take this away. Holly will then provide shelter and food in its new location.
Winter is a good time for clearance. Last week a customer hired us for this very purpose. We filled all the recycling bins available to us. It will all break down eventually in the composting facilities that our group of boroughs support.
Clearance takes you back to the boundaries of garden and plot and gives you an idea of what is really there. Brambles, nettles, ivy are all hacked to the ground, chopped up small and dug out if time permits. Clearance gives you a chance to cherish what is worth keeping and replant in the gaps. Light comes in and you sense you are in a bigger and better space.
Working from left to right we uncovered a rambling rose that we had wrongly assumed belonged to a household over the fence. We can now prune it and train it along the hedgeline.
As we cut out the dead blackberries we plan to replace them with a live hedge specifically holly which self-seeds in many of the gardens we tend. Our customers will be glad if we take this away. Holly will then provide shelter and food in its new location.
Winter is a good time for clearance. Last week a customer hired us for this very purpose. We filled all the recycling bins available to us. It will all break down eventually in the composting facilities that our group of boroughs support.
Clearance takes you back to the boundaries of garden and plot and gives you an idea of what is really there. Brambles, nettles, ivy are all hacked to the ground, chopped up small and dug out if time permits. Clearance gives you a chance to cherish what is worth keeping and replant in the gaps. Light comes in and you sense you are in a bigger and better space.
Thursday 21 November 2013
No Fence: New Fence: No Offense
M and I arrived on our orchard plot this morning to discover that there was no fence between us and the adjacent back gardens. Three workmen had sunk the concrete poles for a new metal mesh one. Our 'wildlife hedge' had been reduced. The men had cut back an invasive creeper commonly known as 'Mile a minute' or Russian vine (Polygonum baldschuanicum) and also some honeysuckle which had landed on our side. Wildlife, in the form of a friendly robin was showing an interest in the proceedings.
Removal of shared vegetation was not in the spec. Fortunately M was already armed with the loppers (we had been intending to prune that morning) so we changed task.
From ten till twelve, or thereabouts, M and I set about filling two brown recycling bins with what was now garden rubbish. When we had finished M took the bins back and I spiked the muddy grass paths with a fork to assist drainage.
When I was a student teacher a decade ago, part of the assessment process was 'reflection on practice'. This is the practice I had today:
Removal of shared vegetation was not in the spec. Fortunately M was already armed with the loppers (we had been intending to prune that morning) so we changed task.
From ten till twelve, or thereabouts, M and I set about filling two brown recycling bins with what was now garden rubbish. When we had finished M took the bins back and I spiked the muddy grass paths with a fork to assist drainage.
When I was a student teacher a decade ago, part of the assessment process was 'reflection on practice'. This is the practice I had today:
- You do not always know what you are going to find when you arrive on the job. But it pays to be polite.
- 'Mile a minute' and honeysuckle can be told apart reasonably well, but it helps the student if this is pointed out sooner rather than later.
- A tougher pair of gloves or even gauntlets would make a good Christmas present.
- When you chop stuff up small you can fit more in. Bashing it with a spade also helps. Please exercise caution while doing this.
- Old blackberry canes (even the non-cultivated ones) should really be cut out at the end of each season. If you can reach them.
- Make the most of every opportunity. I look forward to training the honeysuckle over a nice new fence.
Monday 18 November 2013
Bless this Glasshouse
M, our apprentice, asked for a list of winter tasks that we could tackle together. Last week it was time for a spot of winter maintenance - removing the green mould, spots and smears from our smaller greenhouse.
We discussed the pros and cons of industrial strength disinfectants, sprays and solvents; we consulted the books. But we ended up taking up her suggestion of a large bottle of distilled vinegar. Firstly, it was cheap (supermarket own brand) secondly it was effective and thirdly, it was environmentally friendly (we have rocket and an indoor vine growing inside the greenhouse).
Having removed as many fixtures and fittings as practicable, M, whose enthusiasm was greater than mine, set to work inside with a sponge dipped in a dilute solution of vinegar. I refilled her bucket at intervals and polished off what she had started with paper kitchen roll.
We are both happy. However, I am a little ashamed to admit that this is the first proper clean our greenhouse has received in seven years. Having M around has made me do it.
We discussed the pros and cons of industrial strength disinfectants, sprays and solvents; we consulted the books. But we ended up taking up her suggestion of a large bottle of distilled vinegar. Firstly, it was cheap (supermarket own brand) secondly it was effective and thirdly, it was environmentally friendly (we have rocket and an indoor vine growing inside the greenhouse).
Having removed as many fixtures and fittings as practicable, M, whose enthusiasm was greater than mine, set to work inside with a sponge dipped in a dilute solution of vinegar. I refilled her bucket at intervals and polished off what she had started with paper kitchen roll.
We are both happy. However, I am a little ashamed to admit that this is the first proper clean our greenhouse has received in seven years. Having M around has made me do it.
Tuesday 12 November 2013
Bramley Seedling
It must be seven years ago, certainly while Woolworths was still trading in the UK, that our friend L offered to buy us an apple tree. She gave us ten pounds and we got a Bramley from 'Woolies'. Now it was time for M our 'apprentice' to buy a tree. She wanted a Bramley too and for ten pounds.
We probably spent half that amount as we drove around the Essex/Hertfordshire borders on a rainy Tuesday morning pricing trees. We learned a lot. We started with one of our favourite nurseries - at least £28.00 for a Bramley in a very large pot. We put our dripping selves into the car and found a garden centre that was offering half price on everything. A bargain if you wanted evergreens, conifers, bay trees or olive trees. We tried a very large cut price store on the trading estate. Inexpensive jam-making stuff (I'm going back) but no apples. I bought broad beans as a consolation. Next stop, a big store near the North Circular. Patio apples. M did not want a patio apple, she wanted a Bramley. M dragged me away from the half-price area. I had spotted and wanted to rescue a sad cyclamen.
We finally found a Bramley in another store on another occasion while buying winter bulbs for a customer. Ten pounds for a tree originally bare-rooted, which had been crammed into a pot with lots of peat. We went back with M.
Now M's tree is planted in the spot she designated for it earlier, completing an arc of trees that starts with our eating apple, then the 'rescued' apple that was disentanged from the grapevine, the vine itself and the damson tree. Each has its own antecedents, known or unknown, and a fruitful history. May that be so for M's tree too.
We probably spent half that amount as we drove around the Essex/Hertfordshire borders on a rainy Tuesday morning pricing trees. We learned a lot. We started with one of our favourite nurseries - at least £28.00 for a Bramley in a very large pot. We put our dripping selves into the car and found a garden centre that was offering half price on everything. A bargain if you wanted evergreens, conifers, bay trees or olive trees. We tried a very large cut price store on the trading estate. Inexpensive jam-making stuff (I'm going back) but no apples. I bought broad beans as a consolation. Next stop, a big store near the North Circular. Patio apples. M did not want a patio apple, she wanted a Bramley. M dragged me away from the half-price area. I had spotted and wanted to rescue a sad cyclamen.
We finally found a Bramley in another store on another occasion while buying winter bulbs for a customer. Ten pounds for a tree originally bare-rooted, which had been crammed into a pot with lots of peat. We went back with M.
Now M's tree is planted in the spot she designated for it earlier, completing an arc of trees that starts with our eating apple, then the 'rescued' apple that was disentanged from the grapevine, the vine itself and the damson tree. Each has its own antecedents, known or unknown, and a fruitful history. May that be so for M's tree too.
Friday 8 November 2013
Bless this house
It has taken me a long time to love housework.
Most of the time I am busy with paid gardening, allotmenteering. keeping house is in third place. But for my grandparents cleanliness was next to godliness. For them it had all the force of a commandment. Alas, cleaning was all too readily taken up under compulsion.
What convicted me was grime. When I started to wear my reading glasses for housework they magnified dust, greasy finger marks, insect smears on the windows, spiders webs in corners, spilled coffee stains on the laminate flooring, wellington boot marks by the door.
My Victorian ancestors would have been proud of me as I got down on my knees with the antibacterial disinfectant. Let us spray.
I have polished the kettle, the toaster, the letterbox, the front door, the pictures that hang along the hall. Every time I think I've come to the end of it I see another object with that offending smear. It's similar to weeding. You think you have finished and then one last dandelion beckons.
Most days I clean gladly rather than sadly and not entirely because I have a horror of becoming an elderly person with a drawer of utensils blemished with verdigris.
As I stand in the hall, light shines back from its clean surfaces. Tomorrow I will tackle another corner. That's enough for today.
Most of the time I am busy with paid gardening, allotmenteering. keeping house is in third place. But for my grandparents cleanliness was next to godliness. For them it had all the force of a commandment. Alas, cleaning was all too readily taken up under compulsion.
What convicted me was grime. When I started to wear my reading glasses for housework they magnified dust, greasy finger marks, insect smears on the windows, spiders webs in corners, spilled coffee stains on the laminate flooring, wellington boot marks by the door.
My Victorian ancestors would have been proud of me as I got down on my knees with the antibacterial disinfectant. Let us spray.
I have polished the kettle, the toaster, the letterbox, the front door, the pictures that hang along the hall. Every time I think I've come to the end of it I see another object with that offending smear. It's similar to weeding. You think you have finished and then one last dandelion beckons.
Most days I clean gladly rather than sadly and not entirely because I have a horror of becoming an elderly person with a drawer of utensils blemished with verdigris.
As I stand in the hall, light shines back from its clean surfaces. Tomorrow I will tackle another corner. That's enough for today.
Tuesday 5 November 2013
Pumpkin Preserved
Halloween has come and gone, I am thankful to say, and in our local corner store I bought their last pumpkin priced at a bargain £1.01. This orange 'giant' weighing in at just under 3 kilos is presenting me with a tasty challenge. Should I choose starters (soup), a main course (risotto), a dessert (pie) or all three. Or marmalade?
This last option is not as strange as it sounds. Sophie Grigson's Eat Your Greens is one of my favourite cookbooks (the lady understands allotmenteering) and she provides a recipe for a runny but pleasant 'marmalade' where oranges, pumpkin and sugar are boiled until the mixture is thick enough to pour into jars. I think I will try it.
This last option is not as strange as it sounds. Sophie Grigson's Eat Your Greens is one of my favourite cookbooks (the lady understands allotmenteering) and she provides a recipe for a runny but pleasant 'marmalade' where oranges, pumpkin and sugar are boiled until the mixture is thick enough to pour into jars. I think I will try it.
Monday 4 November 2013
Nessel Netel Nettle Ortie Urtica dioica
A friend has given us a packet of herbal tea-bags. Whilst waiting for my infusion to brew I enjoyed reading the packet and noting relationships between the languages of Western Europe. (Please excuse me, readers of Polish and Russian - yours are on the box too).
In order the names in my heading read - German, Dutch, English and Norwegian, French and the Latin botanical name for the stinging nettle. My husband reminded me of the last one. I was puzzled as to the origin of Ortie. When you know the Latin it is obvious.
Meanwhile on the plot, my nettles in the wildlife hedge which I cut back earlier in the year are still growing strong. I could make my own herbal tea, I suppose, but at the back of my mind is the advice of the children's television presenters of my youth 'Don't try this at home, boys and girls'. So, for the moment, I will stick to mint (Mentha spicata and Mentha piperita) - Spearmint and Peppermint.
In order the names in my heading read - German, Dutch, English and Norwegian, French and the Latin botanical name for the stinging nettle. My husband reminded me of the last one. I was puzzled as to the origin of Ortie. When you know the Latin it is obvious.
Meanwhile on the plot, my nettles in the wildlife hedge which I cut back earlier in the year are still growing strong. I could make my own herbal tea, I suppose, but at the back of my mind is the advice of the children's television presenters of my youth 'Don't try this at home, boys and girls'. So, for the moment, I will stick to mint (Mentha spicata and Mentha piperita) - Spearmint and Peppermint.
Thursday 31 October 2013
Super soup
Earlier this week I was peeling knobbly Jerusalem Artichokes (Helianthus tuberosus) for a hearty soup. I combined them with brown lentils, chicken stock and other seasonal ingredients such as parsnips (not quite ready but I could not resist unearthing one) and curly kale, that tough and enduring stand-by of the kitchen garden. Whizzed up afterwards in a blender the soup is green, thick and comforting.
It struck me for the first time, although I am sure it is obvious to most readers, that good cooks combine foodstuffs that complement each other. The root vegetables in my soup such as parsnips, artichokes and carrots go so well with the kale. They only need a little grated raw ginger, turmeric, garam masala and cumin to add that extra something.
Now I am learning to sup my soup slowly, and allow the full flavour to reach my palate.
It struck me for the first time, although I am sure it is obvious to most readers, that good cooks combine foodstuffs that complement each other. The root vegetables in my soup such as parsnips, artichokes and carrots go so well with the kale. They only need a little grated raw ginger, turmeric, garam masala and cumin to add that extra something.
Now I am learning to sup my soup slowly, and allow the full flavour to reach my palate.
Saturday 26 October 2013
Late October's insect life
There is plenty of insect life on our plot - beneficial and otherwise. This was brought home to me yesterday when harvesting kale tops. Scattered whitefly arose from the kale like a cloud of flying dandruff and fluttered to rest on the soil and on the kale itself. I pulled out all the yellow and brown decaying leaves and dumped them in the wildlife hedge. The kale has a white downy deposit on the underside, but once washed is good to eat.
Meanwhile the bees are still out and about. Their choice of plants has diminished as almost all our sunflowers are now seed heads, but they are still on the white deadnettle, or popping in and out of the trumpets of the penstemons by our shed.
Daddy long-legs (craneflies) have stopped trying to come into our flat but the ladybirds are now ready to hibernate over the winter. They are resting in close-packed colonies of up to half a dozen above the curtain rails on the inside of our windowframes.
About two weeks ago I spotted a very lethargic grasshopper. Could this be a record?
Meanwhile the bees are still out and about. Their choice of plants has diminished as almost all our sunflowers are now seed heads, but they are still on the white deadnettle, or popping in and out of the trumpets of the penstemons by our shed.
Daddy long-legs (craneflies) have stopped trying to come into our flat but the ladybirds are now ready to hibernate over the winter. They are resting in close-packed colonies of up to half a dozen above the curtain rails on the inside of our windowframes.
About two weeks ago I spotted a very lethargic grasshopper. Could this be a record?
Wednesday 23 October 2013
Overwintering
Today a customer phoned to say that her back lawn was waterlogged. So, we did what we customarily do under these circumstances; went down to the plot.
We worked on a raised bed and sowed a packet of early broad beans in two double rows to overwinter. My husband occupied himself tidying the small greenhouse where I had transplanted some rocket the previous day. It should keep going under glass until the spring. I weeded the Japanese onions we are growing from seed. Progress is slow. They ressemble very small spring onions. But our leeks, sown in March and intended for Christmas dinner are doing well.
I returned after lunch intending to do just one job - remove the last of the runner beans and mulch the bed. However I was offered some winter cabbage seedlings by J, an older neighbour. A dozen cabbages have duly gone in next to a row of winter salad that is still flourishing.
'I expect things are slowing down now', say well-meaning friends. Yes and no. We can usually find something constructive to do. We are over-wintering.
We worked on a raised bed and sowed a packet of early broad beans in two double rows to overwinter. My husband occupied himself tidying the small greenhouse where I had transplanted some rocket the previous day. It should keep going under glass until the spring. I weeded the Japanese onions we are growing from seed. Progress is slow. They ressemble very small spring onions. But our leeks, sown in March and intended for Christmas dinner are doing well.
I returned after lunch intending to do just one job - remove the last of the runner beans and mulch the bed. However I was offered some winter cabbage seedlings by J, an older neighbour. A dozen cabbages have duly gone in next to a row of winter salad that is still flourishing.
'I expect things are slowing down now', say well-meaning friends. Yes and no. We can usually find something constructive to do. We are over-wintering.
Monday 21 October 2013
Believing in a better Beckton
Believe in Better ... the advert challenges us and the satellite beams its high definition pictures of a world full of wonders.
Beckton believed in better. Desirable dolls houses designed with front and back lawn, garage or off street parking. Coming with a kitchen and downstairs loo, a master bedroom, a conservatory and a patio. Roads would curlicue into closes and speed bumps slow the traffic. Superstores would be a short step away, buses and trains would connect across town, over and under the river.
Boundary-less Beckton. Resposibility for the space outside the front door rests with the landlord and not the tenant. Smokers drop their fag-ends in the dead-ends. Yesterday's sofa is as disposable as yesterday's take-away.
Who will believe in Beckton? Who will cultivate their neighbours, plant tough and tenacious trees, mend its walls, sweep its closes, make it beautiful?
Beckton believed in better. Desirable dolls houses designed with front and back lawn, garage or off street parking. Coming with a kitchen and downstairs loo, a master bedroom, a conservatory and a patio. Roads would curlicue into closes and speed bumps slow the traffic. Superstores would be a short step away, buses and trains would connect across town, over and under the river.
Boundary-less Beckton. Resposibility for the space outside the front door rests with the landlord and not the tenant. Smokers drop their fag-ends in the dead-ends. Yesterday's sofa is as disposable as yesterday's take-away.
Who will believe in Beckton? Who will cultivate their neighbours, plant tough and tenacious trees, mend its walls, sweep its closes, make it beautiful?
Saturday 19 October 2013
Finger-picking good...
Today we went to Docklands on a spec. to tidy up borders and rescue a patio described to us as full of weeds. You never know until you see the garden in question. Two to two and half hours to expend on a well-laid, small patio. On with the gloves and on to the weeds in the following categories.
The easy ones - the ones that you grasp firmly by the stem and with a bit of deft tweaking manage to uproot entire. Straight into the recycling bin.
The nasty ones - dandelions and their relations. A lot of grubbing about with a small two-pronged instrument which is reputed to remove them from lawns (and patios). Dandelions remain firmly anchored.
Buddleia. This is not a weed, it is an invasive shrub. Cut off lateral branches and find the stumpy evidence that this has been tried before.
Borders weed-free and tidied. Weedkiller recommended to customer. Patio swept and re-swept. Return visit (front garden) booked.
A Saturday morning of leisure or a short, satisfying and achievable job like this? I say it's finger-picking good.
The easy ones - the ones that you grasp firmly by the stem and with a bit of deft tweaking manage to uproot entire. Straight into the recycling bin.
The nasty ones - dandelions and their relations. A lot of grubbing about with a small two-pronged instrument which is reputed to remove them from lawns (and patios). Dandelions remain firmly anchored.
Buddleia. This is not a weed, it is an invasive shrub. Cut off lateral branches and find the stumpy evidence that this has been tried before.
Borders weed-free and tidied. Weedkiller recommended to customer. Patio swept and re-swept. Return visit (front garden) booked.
A Saturday morning of leisure or a short, satisfying and achievable job like this? I say it's finger-picking good.
Friday 4 October 2013
Recipes, Rationing, Recyling
I note from my diary that this week in 1952 tea was removed from the British government's list of rationed commodities. My parents married in April of the following year.
Being possessed of northern thrift and well read, our mother used to cut out recipes and paste them in a green book passed down to her in turn from her mother, Evelyn (nee Burrows) of Market Street, Hyde. The recipes were a regular feature in a newspaper which was then printed and produced in London and Manchester, the Manchester Guardian. Manchester's newspaper quarter now boasts fashionable shops and eateries. I still have the green book. One memorable recipe starts "Now that cheese is off the ration..."
I am cutting out and saving recipes too. These are not from the Guardian but from The People's Friend, a magazine that did not feature in our family although Women's Weekly, famed for its knitting, certainly did. I don't stick them in the cherished and still consulted green book, which is now beginning to fall apart, but on file cards which I keep in a grey box in the kitchen.
I can recommend The People's Friend. An older customer over the street reads it and passes it on to another neighbour. She in turn passes it on to me. I snip out spring recipes in October and warming winter dishes in July. No matter, they all go in the file.
It may be some time before I attempt the knitting, however....
Being possessed of northern thrift and well read, our mother used to cut out recipes and paste them in a green book passed down to her in turn from her mother, Evelyn (nee Burrows) of Market Street, Hyde. The recipes were a regular feature in a newspaper which was then printed and produced in London and Manchester, the Manchester Guardian. Manchester's newspaper quarter now boasts fashionable shops and eateries. I still have the green book. One memorable recipe starts "Now that cheese is off the ration..."
I am cutting out and saving recipes too. These are not from the Guardian but from The People's Friend, a magazine that did not feature in our family although Women's Weekly, famed for its knitting, certainly did. I don't stick them in the cherished and still consulted green book, which is now beginning to fall apart, but on file cards which I keep in a grey box in the kitchen.
I can recommend The People's Friend. An older customer over the street reads it and passes it on to another neighbour. She in turn passes it on to me. I snip out spring recipes in October and warming winter dishes in July. No matter, they all go in the file.
It may be some time before I attempt the knitting, however....
Friday 27 September 2013
Pears + Pectin - Puzzle Solved
It was puzzling. My second batch of jam reached 220 degrees. I believed the evidence of the sugar thermometer and poured it into the warmed jars. But it seemed runny. Deep down I should have known. Later I found that my husband had put the jam in the fridge to help it along. This was not a good sign. The jam should have set rapidly as it cooled in the jars; instead after a day or so it was still a pleasant pear and ginger sauce.
I nearly left it there. I gave a jar to a friend. I left the others in the fridge. I talked to my sister and observed that we all put some things down to experience. She told me to buy pectin and boil it up again. Pears are lower in pectin than blackberries. I should have remembered this. That is why jam sugar (not the sugar I used last time) contains the phrase 'with added pectin'.
I added a sachet of pectin and brought the jam to setting point. It set. My sister will be amused when she reads this.
I nearly left it there. I gave a jar to a friend. I left the others in the fridge. I talked to my sister and observed that we all put some things down to experience. She told me to buy pectin and boil it up again. Pears are lower in pectin than blackberries. I should have remembered this. That is why jam sugar (not the sugar I used last time) contains the phrase 'with added pectin'.
I added a sachet of pectin and brought the jam to setting point. It set. My sister will be amused when she reads this.
Thursday 19 September 2013
Spring Onions
The day before the Equinox in March we took our 'apprentice' down to the plot and sowed spring onions. Spring onions are a catch crop which can go in at intervals throughout the growing season and usually take about eight weeks. The seed and the source were good and recommended. Nothing came up. Not the best outcome when gardening with a novice.
This September, before the Autumn Equinox I sowed onions from seed for the first time.
Senshyu (the spelling varies) are a Japanese overwintering onion to be harvested in July. The instructions on the packet were clear and in capital letters to be sown END OF AUG EARLY SEP IN SOUTHERN AREAS. NOT SUITABLE FOR SOWING AT ANY OTHER TIME.
The last time I went down to the plot, the thin, folded first leaves of the Senshyu were beginning to show.
How various is our allotment experience. Some crops, supposedly 'easy' fail to germinate. Others reputedly 'difficult' (most gardeners prefer onions sets nowadays) start to grow at as summer turns to autumn. It's a long time and a lot of work until July 2014, but I hope to harvest my Senshyu in due season.
This September, before the Autumn Equinox I sowed onions from seed for the first time.
Senshyu (the spelling varies) are a Japanese overwintering onion to be harvested in July. The instructions on the packet were clear and in capital letters to be sown END OF AUG EARLY SEP IN SOUTHERN AREAS. NOT SUITABLE FOR SOWING AT ANY OTHER TIME.
The last time I went down to the plot, the thin, folded first leaves of the Senshyu were beginning to show.
How various is our allotment experience. Some crops, supposedly 'easy' fail to germinate. Others reputedly 'difficult' (most gardeners prefer onions sets nowadays) start to grow at as summer turns to autumn. It's a long time and a lot of work until July 2014, but I hope to harvest my Senshyu in due season.
Wednesday 18 September 2013
Green Tomatoes
* Our tomatoes are green because we grew them ourselves.
* Our tomatoes are green because, package-free, they travelled a very short distance from the plot to our pad.
*Our tomatoes are green because blight blew in the wind across the allotments and struck before the fruit had chance to ripen.
*Our chutney is made from green tomatoes, windfall apples and other delicious ingredients (which we cannot guarantee to be green) and was ladled into our recycled jam jars yesterday. The recipe comes from a book we sourced from the charity shop.
*Our electric cooker isn't green, it's grey (please don't email me!) but we are doing our best.
* Our tomatoes are green because, package-free, they travelled a very short distance from the plot to our pad.
*Our tomatoes are green because blight blew in the wind across the allotments and struck before the fruit had chance to ripen.
*Our chutney is made from green tomatoes, windfall apples and other delicious ingredients (which we cannot guarantee to be green) and was ladled into our recycled jam jars yesterday. The recipe comes from a book we sourced from the charity shop.
*Our electric cooker isn't green, it's grey (please don't email me!) but we are doing our best.
Thursday 12 September 2013
Comfort me with apples ....
Our venerable customer, G, has recently sent my husband home with a haul of red Discovery apples. It took me back to my first year at college, forty years ago. Ours had extensive grounds and an orchard. You could buy a big bag of apples from the groundsman's shed. I used to steadily munch my way through these, cores and all while writing essays. My family still joke about this habit.
Some time has elapsed from the early seventies to our present era, but some things remain the same. I still love apples, although I cannot devour them as I once did. But, taken in moderation, they sustain me as I garden while not raising my glucose levels beyond the recommended parameters.
I am still writing, although I marvel now at how I achieved any form of literary criticism.
Many people will be returning to Cambridge for the alumnae weekend. My thoughts are with them. I remember those who supervised my work with gratitude.
If you are interested in attributions you will find my heading in the Song of Solomon, Chapter Two. Read the original before the you consult the critics was the rule. I believe that still holds good.
Some time has elapsed from the early seventies to our present era, but some things remain the same. I still love apples, although I cannot devour them as I once did. But, taken in moderation, they sustain me as I garden while not raising my glucose levels beyond the recommended parameters.
I am still writing, although I marvel now at how I achieved any form of literary criticism.
Many people will be returning to Cambridge for the alumnae weekend. My thoughts are with them. I remember those who supervised my work with gratitude.
If you are interested in attributions you will find my heading in the Song of Solomon, Chapter Two. Read the original before the you consult the critics was the rule. I believe that still holds good.
Thursday 5 September 2013
A Vintage Year
It has been a good season, to date, for our vines. The outside grapes (for eating and juicing) are turning from green to pink to red; the inside (green grapes) are slower to ripen and provide a lesson in patience.
Most days I go to our larger greenhouse and sample a grape. It looks soft, sweet and juicy but is bitter. If I were a real connoiseur, a wine buff for example, I would be able to describe the precise gradations of bitterness, how each sour bunch is slowly sweetening day by day until perfect ripeness is attained. As it is, I pick a grape and grimace.
There is one visual indicator, however, which I had forgotten. I should not be sampling the grapes but examining the stem. When they are ready it will turn from green to a more brittle brown. As soon as this happens it is time to harvest.
Most days I go to our larger greenhouse and sample a grape. It looks soft, sweet and juicy but is bitter. If I were a real connoiseur, a wine buff for example, I would be able to describe the precise gradations of bitterness, how each sour bunch is slowly sweetening day by day until perfect ripeness is attained. As it is, I pick a grape and grimace.
There is one visual indicator, however, which I had forgotten. I should not be sampling the grapes but examining the stem. When they are ready it will turn from green to a more brittle brown. As soon as this happens it is time to harvest.
Monday 2 September 2013
Stepping over the apple trees
I am full of admiration for gardeners who are able to grow apples on by the cordon or espalier method. In my defence I would say:
- I prefer my trees to grow according to their natural bush shapes
- I have difficulty visualising diagrams where 'x marks the spot'
However what I was unwilling to attempt the ants have done for me. It is unfortunate that we failed to spot the anthill under our Bramley much earlier. Because of their nest-building proclivities our tree is now leaning, lopsided, close to the angle at which professionals train their espaliers. Our apples are almost touching the ground.
I shall prune my trees, in December or January as recommended. I shall try my best to be decisive and take out as many branches as necessary.
Bramleys are not a suitable variety for the espalier treatment. However, in the spirit of live and let live I shall leave the ants alone and enjoy our oblique-angled tree.
- I prefer my trees to grow according to their natural bush shapes
- I have difficulty visualising diagrams where 'x marks the spot'
However what I was unwilling to attempt the ants have done for me. It is unfortunate that we failed to spot the anthill under our Bramley much earlier. Because of their nest-building proclivities our tree is now leaning, lopsided, close to the angle at which professionals train their espaliers. Our apples are almost touching the ground.
I shall prune my trees, in December or January as recommended. I shall try my best to be decisive and take out as many branches as necessary.
Bramleys are not a suitable variety for the espalier treatment. However, in the spirit of live and let live I shall leave the ants alone and enjoy our oblique-angled tree.
Friday 30 August 2013
Bean there....
Been there, done that, got the tee-shirt is the semi-ironic response to many a tale of woe, usually prefaced by Tell me about it! which in this context usualy means the exact opposite: please don't tell me any more about your personal disasters.
But I will tell you about our runner beans. This year, we really have been there with our beans.
As I prepared to uproot an unproductive row I worked out what had gone wrong. So here is my little list of what not to do.
Climate. It has been hard. Our spring was very cold. Runner beans, unlike broad beans, are not native to Europe. We propogated them in the greenhouse. There is always a wait until the last frosts are over. Perhaps we waited too long.
After that it was hot and dry. Beans are thirsty plants. We did not water them enough.
Nurture. This year we made a big mistake. Normally we fill bean trenches with well rotted kitchen waste and plant out beans on top. This year we did not allow enough time for it to rot down. Result - germination of Jerusalem Artichoke peelings and potatoes. These competed with the beans and almost choked them out of existence.
Seed. We have been saving seed ever since we got here. But unlike an older friend who selects his best pods, we did not save the healthiest beans. We ate them. You reap what you sow.
New year, new season, fresh beginnings. Thank goodness we have time to learn.
But I will tell you about our runner beans. This year, we really have been there with our beans.
As I prepared to uproot an unproductive row I worked out what had gone wrong. So here is my little list of what not to do.
Climate. It has been hard. Our spring was very cold. Runner beans, unlike broad beans, are not native to Europe. We propogated them in the greenhouse. There is always a wait until the last frosts are over. Perhaps we waited too long.
After that it was hot and dry. Beans are thirsty plants. We did not water them enough.
Nurture. This year we made a big mistake. Normally we fill bean trenches with well rotted kitchen waste and plant out beans on top. This year we did not allow enough time for it to rot down. Result - germination of Jerusalem Artichoke peelings and potatoes. These competed with the beans and almost choked them out of existence.
Seed. We have been saving seed ever since we got here. But unlike an older friend who selects his best pods, we did not save the healthiest beans. We ate them. You reap what you sow.
New year, new season, fresh beginnings. Thank goodness we have time to learn.
Wednesday 28 August 2013
Seed Packets, Small Print and Spinach
I found that the most enjoyable thing teaching English for Speakers of Other Languages (ESOL), was the use of realia, that is, you take an everyday object, a tin of tomatoes for example, and exploit the possibilities for all they are worth. Food and drink have their own vocabulary. As do seed packets. So here is a brief reflection. It is the season for autumn sowing and my kind family have just made a birthday gift to my husband. Let's start with the spinach.
This is no common or garden spinach. The luscious red-veined baby leaves in the photo on the front and the name itself F1 Reddy tell us that it is a type of hybrid. This would take rather a lot of space to explain, and if I were clever with blogs I would have a blue instant link to the RHS website. (You can find it listed on my page). If I were in the classroom I would have satisfy myself that I understood this before I taught others. Be that as it may, there was one sentence in the small print that caught my eye: F1 Hybrid seed is expensive to produce and should be handled with care.
Seed is precious. I believe this applies to all seed, hybrid or not. Let us be grateful for it and handle it with care. Here is a verse from the Psalms:
He who goes out weeping, carrying seed to sow.
Will return with songs of joy, carrying sheaves with him.
Psalm126:6
This is no common or garden spinach. The luscious red-veined baby leaves in the photo on the front and the name itself F1 Reddy tell us that it is a type of hybrid. This would take rather a lot of space to explain, and if I were clever with blogs I would have a blue instant link to the RHS website. (You can find it listed on my page). If I were in the classroom I would have satisfy myself that I understood this before I taught others. Be that as it may, there was one sentence in the small print that caught my eye: F1 Hybrid seed is expensive to produce and should be handled with care.
Seed is precious. I believe this applies to all seed, hybrid or not. Let us be grateful for it and handle it with care. Here is a verse from the Psalms:
He who goes out weeping, carrying seed to sow.
Will return with songs of joy, carrying sheaves with him.
Psalm126:6
Monday 26 August 2013
Gloves Off
We had a lovely break in the Borders. As we travelled over hill and dale we looked out of coach windows and commented on other people's crops - oh,look, sweetcorn; they're harvesting over there; potatoes flowering, hmm. Sheep. Sheep again. Cows...
This afternoon it was back to the allotment.
I noticed that after a couple of hours, my nice pink gardening gloves were discarded. I needed to put my hands back in the soil.
It is far more satisfying to be weeding your own stuff than watching others grow.
This afternoon it was back to the allotment.
I noticed that after a couple of hours, my nice pink gardening gloves were discarded. I needed to put my hands back in the soil.
It is far more satisfying to be weeding your own stuff than watching others grow.
Wednesday 14 August 2013
Setting Point
I have been making preserves this week with the fruit from our allotment. Yesterday it was blackberry and apple jam, today apple butter which is a variety of sweet chutney.
My jam-making efforts, in contrast to my chutneys, have not always been a success. Jokingly, I refer to my husband as the 'jam man'. Three years ago I promoted my damson as a good sauce for ice cream, such was its runniness.
However, this time I recognised the setting point. In times past I tried the trick with the cold saucers, I examined the drips from the wooden spoon, I became scientific and stuck in the sugar thermometer in seach of the elusive 221 degrees. This time I knew. I am not even sure how I knew but I did; it was something to do with the viscosity of the mix, the rate of the bubbles, the resistance as I stirred.
That was it: warmed jars out of the oven, lovely hot blackberry and apple spooned in with a ladle, waxed disks in place, covers and lids as it cooled.
I know now, and I will no longer apologise in that self-deprecating way. I can make jam.
My jam-making efforts, in contrast to my chutneys, have not always been a success. Jokingly, I refer to my husband as the 'jam man'. Three years ago I promoted my damson as a good sauce for ice cream, such was its runniness.
However, this time I recognised the setting point. In times past I tried the trick with the cold saucers, I examined the drips from the wooden spoon, I became scientific and stuck in the sugar thermometer in seach of the elusive 221 degrees. This time I knew. I am not even sure how I knew but I did; it was something to do with the viscosity of the mix, the rate of the bubbles, the resistance as I stirred.
That was it: warmed jars out of the oven, lovely hot blackberry and apple spooned in with a ladle, waxed disks in place, covers and lids as it cooled.
I know now, and I will no longer apologise in that self-deprecating way. I can make jam.
Monday 12 August 2013
Levels
This weekend we drove to a nearby country park. It was quiet and apart from a few dog walkers and cyclists we had the place to ourselves.
As soon as we were parked and out of the car we noticed the housemartins on the wing very low over the open meadow. We sat for a while by the little lake where some ducks and moorhens were dabbling about and then went up a slight incline to an overgrown field. Thistledown drifted across the furrows in the breeze. Grasshoppers, disturbed by our footsteps, leapt for safety into the grass. Butterflies drifted in and out of the brambles. High in the sky fluffy white clouds were blown in from the west.
All lived and moved in and through the unseen air at their own level from the chirruping grasshoppers to the ducks quacking as they splashed down, from the ephemeral butterflies to the ever-changing clouds; from dogs let off the lead scampering about to cyclists freewheeling down the slope with the wind in their faces.
The ever-moving air supports and sustains us. "Let everything that has breath, praise the LORD." (Psalm 150)
As soon as we were parked and out of the car we noticed the housemartins on the wing very low over the open meadow. We sat for a while by the little lake where some ducks and moorhens were dabbling about and then went up a slight incline to an overgrown field. Thistledown drifted across the furrows in the breeze. Grasshoppers, disturbed by our footsteps, leapt for safety into the grass. Butterflies drifted in and out of the brambles. High in the sky fluffy white clouds were blown in from the west.
All lived and moved in and through the unseen air at their own level from the chirruping grasshoppers to the ducks quacking as they splashed down, from the ephemeral butterflies to the ever-changing clouds; from dogs let off the lead scampering about to cyclists freewheeling down the slope with the wind in their faces.
The ever-moving air supports and sustains us. "Let everything that has breath, praise the LORD." (Psalm 150)
Friday 9 August 2013
No more coddling for cydia pomonella...
commonly known as the codling moth...
Once more, friends, the clue is in its Latin name. And the external signs that the larvae have been at work are fallen apples with taletale brown skin blemishes and cores filled with frass.
Next season I resolve to hang pheromone traps from the branches, girdle the trunks with grease bands.
Meanwhile, I make the most of this fallen fruit with blackberry and apple muffins, blackberry and apple crumble and my latest experiment, courtesy of the Hamlyn book of preserves, apple butter.
But apples would far better be blemish free and on the tree.
Once more, friends, the clue is in its Latin name. And the external signs that the larvae have been at work are fallen apples with taletale brown skin blemishes and cores filled with frass.
Next season I resolve to hang pheromone traps from the branches, girdle the trunks with grease bands.
Meanwhile, I make the most of this fallen fruit with blackberry and apple muffins, blackberry and apple crumble and my latest experiment, courtesy of the Hamlyn book of preserves, apple butter.
But apples would far better be blemish free and on the tree.
Monday 5 August 2013
Three frogs in a pond
I do not usually write parodies, but I attempted this one. The original is found in an old poetry anthology: Grass of Parnassus (1936) and is entitled Four Ducks on a Pond by William Allingham (1824-1889).
Three frogs in a pond,
Black liner they rest upon,
A grey sky of July,
Six little bulging eyes
What a happy surprise
To remember with delight -
Three frogs in the night!
Three frogs in a pond,
Black liner they rest upon,
A grey sky of July,
Six little bulging eyes
What a happy surprise
To remember with delight -
Three frogs in the night!
Friday 2 August 2013
The biggest sunflower...
Here's a picture of a self-seeded sunflower which sprung up in this bed for the second year in succession. I tried to move some others earlier in the season, but the slugs ate them. I am so glad that I left this one where it was. If you look very carefully you may see a bumble bee at its centre.
Wednesday 24 July 2013
Thinning the apple trees
I am sticking to my resolution to blog more often and find that this helps me to reflect upon what I do. Here's today's allotment activity.
This morning on the first occasion since planting it I thinned our Bramley cooking apple tree. Most years I have resigned myself to its biennial bearing habit - loaded with apples one year, about half a dozen the next. This year looked like a bumper year...
Apple trees do drop premature fruit in June, most years, depending on weather conditions. This is not usually serious. We had a good spring (for apples) and our Bramley still had between three and four apples on each twig. Serious experts would have left one apple: I left two.
Over the course of time since dropping paid teaching, some things have fallen out of my life. It's natural. The challenge is to walk around the tree and deliberate upon what fruit needs to be thinned. Next visit I will start on its companion the Grenadier.
This morning on the first occasion since planting it I thinned our Bramley cooking apple tree. Most years I have resigned myself to its biennial bearing habit - loaded with apples one year, about half a dozen the next. This year looked like a bumper year...
Apple trees do drop premature fruit in June, most years, depending on weather conditions. This is not usually serious. We had a good spring (for apples) and our Bramley still had between three and four apples on each twig. Serious experts would have left one apple: I left two.
Over the course of time since dropping paid teaching, some things have fallen out of my life. It's natural. The challenge is to walk around the tree and deliberate upon what fruit needs to be thinned. Next visit I will start on its companion the Grenadier.
Tuesday 23 July 2013
The case of the disappearing caterpillar
This year the nettles that grow in front of the 'wildlife hedge' have been food for the caterpillars of the Small Tortoiseshell butterfly (Aglais urticae) - the clue to their identity is found in their Latin name.
I confirmed this observation by consulting a small reference book which informed me that nettles are their food plant (tick), eggs are laid severally at a time (tick); and the caterpillars live in a web. (tick). It was a large, dark, slow moving, pulsating web which devoured the nettles from top to bottom.
Now the small tortoiseshell caterpillars have all disappeared. As they grew, they shed their skins stage by stage until it was time to pupate. Where have they gone? My compact reference book does not tell me. I hope they are somewhere safe in the soil, awaiting metamorphosis. The only evidence that they were ever there is their discarded skins, empty and stiff, heads up, front feet in the air, hind feet secured to the skeletal and denuded nettles.
I confirmed this observation by consulting a small reference book which informed me that nettles are their food plant (tick), eggs are laid severally at a time (tick); and the caterpillars live in a web. (tick). It was a large, dark, slow moving, pulsating web which devoured the nettles from top to bottom.
Now the small tortoiseshell caterpillars have all disappeared. As they grew, they shed their skins stage by stage until it was time to pupate. Where have they gone? My compact reference book does not tell me. I hope they are somewhere safe in the soil, awaiting metamorphosis. The only evidence that they were ever there is their discarded skins, empty and stiff, heads up, front feet in the air, hind feet secured to the skeletal and denuded nettles.
Monday 22 July 2013
Whispering Grass
A contemporary theme in the world of garden design is 'naturalistic planting'. After visiting the site in late July I submit the following:
This year, use meadow grass on your allotment for maximum effect. You need not travel to the former Olympic Park - this effective landscaping feature can be yours at minimal cost.
Figure 1. Unused allotment plot - one year - naturalistic meadow grass threaded with seeding purple onion heads.
Figure 2. Unused allotment plot - two to three years, grass as above spaced with teasel heads (suitable for birds) and thistles.
Figure 3. Unused allotment plot - three to five years - grass waves through an underplanting of brambles (suitable for birds, fox clubs and small tortoiseshell butterflies) complemented by a selection of thistles. Featured tree - common ash (Fraxinus).
All plants and trees are self-seeding/self-reproducing and available free of charge. Achieve the look now, without lifting a finger and hear your neighbours comment.
This year, use meadow grass on your allotment for maximum effect. You need not travel to the former Olympic Park - this effective landscaping feature can be yours at minimal cost.
Figure 1. Unused allotment plot - one year - naturalistic meadow grass threaded with seeding purple onion heads.
Figure 2. Unused allotment plot - two to three years, grass as above spaced with teasel heads (suitable for birds) and thistles.
Figure 3. Unused allotment plot - three to five years - grass waves through an underplanting of brambles (suitable for birds, fox clubs and small tortoiseshell butterflies) complemented by a selection of thistles. Featured tree - common ash (Fraxinus).
All plants and trees are self-seeding/self-reproducing and available free of charge. Achieve the look now, without lifting a finger and hear your neighbours comment.
Friday 19 July 2013
Heat Stresses
It all looked simple on my lesson plan. Sow Giant Winter Spinach (18th June 2013) in fertile soil. We sowed the spinach. My friend and I anticipated a late autumn harvest.
Unfortunately this Tuesday I had to draw her attention to it. The spinach, struggling with the heat, had opted to flower. It was at best three inches high and ready to reproduce and die.
So now we sit out the hot spell, watering in the cool of the evening. Our broccoli is also ready to harvest, far too early; our cauliflowers gave up the ghost, our ruby chard seedlings are hanging on...
Meanwhile the stuff we nursed through the cold spell - the marrows we put in a sheltered bed, the kale that will survive extremes, the squashes we planted in an old open-sided compost area are now romping away. Outdoor tomatoes begin to flower, our apple trees are laden (at present), blackcurrants are magnificent, indoor and outdoor grapes show promise.
I wonder if it will go on like this - devoting more and more meticulous attention, where we can, to plots and patches where we can protect against cold and heat. Decisions. We cannot water everything. Raspberries have gone dry, tayberries are getting stressed. We are not able to rescue all, but we can select. This may become our life's pattern. Meanwhile, with the patience of the farmer, we once again consider when to re-sow.
Unfortunately this Tuesday I had to draw her attention to it. The spinach, struggling with the heat, had opted to flower. It was at best three inches high and ready to reproduce and die.
So now we sit out the hot spell, watering in the cool of the evening. Our broccoli is also ready to harvest, far too early; our cauliflowers gave up the ghost, our ruby chard seedlings are hanging on...
Meanwhile the stuff we nursed through the cold spell - the marrows we put in a sheltered bed, the kale that will survive extremes, the squashes we planted in an old open-sided compost area are now romping away. Outdoor tomatoes begin to flower, our apple trees are laden (at present), blackcurrants are magnificent, indoor and outdoor grapes show promise.
I wonder if it will go on like this - devoting more and more meticulous attention, where we can, to plots and patches where we can protect against cold and heat. Decisions. We cannot water everything. Raspberries have gone dry, tayberries are getting stressed. We are not able to rescue all, but we can select. This may become our life's pattern. Meanwhile, with the patience of the farmer, we once again consider when to re-sow.
Monday 3 June 2013
Rhododendrons Recycled
When a customer takes against a shrub its days are numbered...
So it was with a rhododendron that we uprooted last week. I never enjoy doing this. However the upside was that said pink monstrosity (customer's opinion) had self-propagated. Rhodies are shallow-rooted. Where its low branches touched the ground they had started to grow. End result - plenty of green garden waste, but also nine or ten free rhododendron cuttings, gladly given away.
We took them. We have another customer who would love a rhododendron. We mixed local topsoil (surplus from another job - patch turfing) with ericaceous compost, located as many large tubs as we could find on the plot and watered copiously.
I am sorry we could not save the lilacs and the euonymus, but there is a limit.
So it was with a rhododendron that we uprooted last week. I never enjoy doing this. However the upside was that said pink monstrosity (customer's opinion) had self-propagated. Rhodies are shallow-rooted. Where its low branches touched the ground they had started to grow. End result - plenty of green garden waste, but also nine or ten free rhododendron cuttings, gladly given away.
We took them. We have another customer who would love a rhododendron. We mixed local topsoil (surplus from another job - patch turfing) with ericaceous compost, located as many large tubs as we could find on the plot and watered copiously.
I am sorry we could not save the lilacs and the euonymus, but there is a limit.
Friday 31 May 2013
The position of snails
On Thursday we planted out our runner beans and french beans and it was with great reluctance that I surrounded these tender plants with slug pellets. Why oh, why, can't snails stay in the wildlife hedge? The hedge is a shady place with lots of composting vegetation which snails are attracted to (I have noted many feeding on decomposing grass cuttings). Other food is varied and arrives at regular intervals. There you are - wilting vine trimmings from the indoor grapevine (growing at terrific speed in the warm, damp conditions), dandelions, other perennial and annual weeds, salad thinnings that even I don't feel like retrieving. All the choice you could wish.
So molluscs, please, don't try it. If I find you in my greenhouse you will be ejected straight back into the hedge. If you find our beans - it's death. I am truly sorry, snails.
So molluscs, please, don't try it. If I find you in my greenhouse you will be ejected straight back into the hedge. If you find our beans - it's death. I am truly sorry, snails.
Wednesday 22 May 2013
Leggy Broccoli
My broccoli seedlings became leggy. The technical term is 'etiolated'. The shading (old trampoline netting) intended to preserve tender plants from fierce sunshine worked well. However, the broccoli, starved of light became pale and spindly. Their true leaves were slow to appear. I planted them out this week. This was a risk. Pests find weak plants.
I sank my broccoli deep into their planting holes, firmed them in and propped them up as best I could, finally netting them against the pigeons.
Meanwhile, our runner beans and borlotti beans are still awaiting the right moment. Late frosts could strike and destroy them all. This is the judgement we have to make - keep things inside too long and they suffer; plant them out too soon and they wilt.
I sank my broccoli deep into their planting holes, firmed them in and propped them up as best I could, finally netting them against the pigeons.
Meanwhile, our runner beans and borlotti beans are still awaiting the right moment. Late frosts could strike and destroy them all. This is the judgement we have to make - keep things inside too long and they suffer; plant them out too soon and they wilt.
Wednesday 15 May 2013
Activities and Anniversaries.
I haven't posted for some time. But here are some jottings on recent activities and anniversaries.
May 2005 marked our access to our first plot. My husband likes to recall that we had a just small canvas covered tool store, minimal tools and a lot of time and energy. That is all you really need, plus patience and commitment. The second and third plots and the structures - the shed and our two greenhouses - came in later. So did the gifts. So many people have given us money, tools, books, seeds and other stuff in kind and we are grateful to you all. Our thanks.
Moving from eight years to ten weeks. That is how long it has taken us to get our leeks going. This Tuesday we planted them out. Once again, I had to demonstrate how to 'do it properly'. So, we were forking over the soil, digging out weeds, raking and spacing out planting holes for leeks, Each leek is now at the bottom of its little hole awaiting the slow filling in of soil over the summer. It rained afterwards and I was glad.
May 2005 marked our access to our first plot. My husband likes to recall that we had a just small canvas covered tool store, minimal tools and a lot of time and energy. That is all you really need, plus patience and commitment. The second and third plots and the structures - the shed and our two greenhouses - came in later. So did the gifts. So many people have given us money, tools, books, seeds and other stuff in kind and we are grateful to you all. Our thanks.
Moving from eight years to ten weeks. That is how long it has taken us to get our leeks going. This Tuesday we planted them out. Once again, I had to demonstrate how to 'do it properly'. So, we were forking over the soil, digging out weeds, raking and spacing out planting holes for leeks, Each leek is now at the bottom of its little hole awaiting the slow filling in of soil over the summer. It rained afterwards and I was glad.
Thursday 18 April 2013
Beds, Borders and Rag Bone
As I compose this blog I hear the ringing of the handbell of the 'Rag and Bone Man'. He is announcing his presence on the avenue and that of his mate who is driving a white high-sided truck at roughly five miles an hour. They are on the lookout for stuff left out on drives: metal, old sofas, carpets, cushions....
So am I. I don't have a truck - just a plastic box on trolley wheels put together by my husband. It is large enough for me to balance planks, rugs, bits and pieces that householders have left out. (It is wise to ask permission first.)
So off to the plot yesterday to put in a small back border along the hedge line to divide a composting and wildlife area - brambles, nettles, bindweed, russian vine, turf stacks - from the michaelmas daisies (thank you, G, for giving us your spare roots).
I am saving my nice recycled sides from a defunct sofa bed for another day. I scrambled towards the rear of one of our heaps. Pallets and planks were beginning to rot down there, but there were enough servicable bits to put in a rustic edge at the back of the bed. Now I can see what is what. Daisies start here. Nettles will no doubt edge their way under and across the border, as they do. This is, after all, an allotment, not arable acreage.
Grubs tunnel into the decaying wood. The turf stacks that I have piled upside down after we enlarged our borders on the neighbouring plot will break down and rot and turn into soil. My husband is burying our compostable food waste in trenches where we will later plant our runner beans.
Waste not, want not.
So am I. I don't have a truck - just a plastic box on trolley wheels put together by my husband. It is large enough for me to balance planks, rugs, bits and pieces that householders have left out. (It is wise to ask permission first.)
So off to the plot yesterday to put in a small back border along the hedge line to divide a composting and wildlife area - brambles, nettles, bindweed, russian vine, turf stacks - from the michaelmas daisies (thank you, G, for giving us your spare roots).
I am saving my nice recycled sides from a defunct sofa bed for another day. I scrambled towards the rear of one of our heaps. Pallets and planks were beginning to rot down there, but there were enough servicable bits to put in a rustic edge at the back of the bed. Now I can see what is what. Daisies start here. Nettles will no doubt edge their way under and across the border, as they do. This is, after all, an allotment, not arable acreage.
Grubs tunnel into the decaying wood. The turf stacks that I have piled upside down after we enlarged our borders on the neighbouring plot will break down and rot and turn into soil. My husband is burying our compostable food waste in trenches where we will later plant our runner beans.
Waste not, want not.
Wednesday 10 April 2013
Ladies of the shallot
This week we shared some allotmenteering with a good friend. Here's the lesson plan.
Go to the 'pound shop' and buy one pack of shallots (Allium ascalonicum). These are handily on sale at 99p.
Unlock shed and collect garden rake.
Walk friend through allotment and show other shallots in situ. It's been a long winter. Some shallots are sprouting. They were put in much earlier than this.
Show friend spot for shallots. Last season there were broad beans on this raised bed. Onions follow beans according to the books I read on rotation.
Tramp the soil and then rake. Friend tramped and raked enthusiastically. Saw once again that when teaching others I am less slapdash.
Space shallots and dig holes to correct depth with small hand trowel. Trim shallots at the top and plant.
Ten shallots successfully sown. Tools returned to shed. Now comes the wait. And the homework which I set myself.
Go away and read Tennyson's poem. The Lady of Shalott. Where are you in this narrative? Would you like to choose or indeed can you be both?
Shalott or shallots?
Go to the 'pound shop' and buy one pack of shallots (Allium ascalonicum). These are handily on sale at 99p.
Unlock shed and collect garden rake.
Walk friend through allotment and show other shallots in situ. It's been a long winter. Some shallots are sprouting. They were put in much earlier than this.
Show friend spot for shallots. Last season there were broad beans on this raised bed. Onions follow beans according to the books I read on rotation.
Tramp the soil and then rake. Friend tramped and raked enthusiastically. Saw once again that when teaching others I am less slapdash.
Space shallots and dig holes to correct depth with small hand trowel. Trim shallots at the top and plant.
Ten shallots successfully sown. Tools returned to shed. Now comes the wait. And the homework which I set myself.
Go away and read Tennyson's poem. The Lady of Shalott. Where are you in this narrative? Would you like to choose or indeed can you be both?
Shalott or shallots?
Monday 8 April 2013
Signs of Spring - April 2013
Here are some of the signs of spring I have seen over this last weekend:
Lesser Celandines (Ficaria verna) and Coltsfoot (Tussilago fafara). The celandine was one of my mother's favourite flowers. Both are very late in flowering this year.
A skylark in the country park.
The first butterfly seen on my walk to the shops.
The first bumblebee and ladybird seen on the allotment.
Wafting over to us on the plot, the scent of the first barbecue of the year.
Our 'rescued' daffodils in flower - which now turn out to be some very prettily ornamented narcissi.
Seeds germinating at last in the greenhouse under cover - leeks and cauliflowers.
Sunlight.
Lesser Celandines (Ficaria verna) and Coltsfoot (Tussilago fafara). The celandine was one of my mother's favourite flowers. Both are very late in flowering this year.
A skylark in the country park.
The first butterfly seen on my walk to the shops.
The first bumblebee and ladybird seen on the allotment.
Wafting over to us on the plot, the scent of the first barbecue of the year.
Our 'rescued' daffodils in flower - which now turn out to be some very prettily ornamented narcissi.
Seeds germinating at last in the greenhouse under cover - leeks and cauliflowers.
Sunlight.
Monday 11 March 2013
The Old Shed
Last week we demolished a shed. This brought back memories of an early poem (c. 1968) written about my grandfather's abandoned shed. More shed stuff to follow, meanwhile here is the poem:
Broken glass crunches underfoot
Together with rusty screws and nuts
Scattered with the careless abandon
Of those whose property it is not.
Somebody has tried to light a fire in the middle of the floor
For there is a charred hole where whoever it was
decided to stamp it out.
Forsythia pushes its enquiring sprays
Through the chinks in the wooden walls,
Like ivy.
Here there was once a desk,
All that remains now a few shattered pieces of wood
And countless bills.
Bills for the sale of bricks
Or wood, or seeds, or tools.
Torn and scattered.
Some still have old stamps on them.
The vandals have taken everything
All the cupboards are empty
Nothing of value left,
Just a wooden, broken shell,
Of a shed.
Broken glass crunches underfoot
Together with rusty screws and nuts
Scattered with the careless abandon
Of those whose property it is not.
Somebody has tried to light a fire in the middle of the floor
For there is a charred hole where whoever it was
decided to stamp it out.
Forsythia pushes its enquiring sprays
Through the chinks in the wooden walls,
Like ivy.
Here there was once a desk,
All that remains now a few shattered pieces of wood
And countless bills.
Bills for the sale of bricks
Or wood, or seeds, or tools.
Torn and scattered.
Some still have old stamps on them.
The vandals have taken everything
All the cupboards are empty
Nothing of value left,
Just a wooden, broken shell,
Of a shed.
Saturday 2 March 2013
Roosters
March birdsong is growing in volume and variety on the allotment. As I finished cutting back and manuring the autumn raspberries I had a melodious accompaniment from robins, blackbirds and bluetits. And two roosters.
The rival roosters domiciled somewhere to the south of our plot were sounding each other out. It was a classic cock-a-doodle-doo contest. I surmise this, though I have no idea where they are cooped up. I couldn't identify their perch. One predator in particular however, would be delighted to know. As I walked back from a quick site inspection of the daffodils a fox slunk through the fence to my right.
The sound of our folk history is still rings in our ears. As I end I issue another little challenge. See how many crafty fox and roistering rooster tales you can recollect. From Chaucer to Chicken-Licken. Then locate the other one. In that story the rooster crows three times.
The rival roosters domiciled somewhere to the south of our plot were sounding each other out. It was a classic cock-a-doodle-doo contest. I surmise this, though I have no idea where they are cooped up. I couldn't identify their perch. One predator in particular however, would be delighted to know. As I walked back from a quick site inspection of the daffodils a fox slunk through the fence to my right.
The sound of our folk history is still rings in our ears. As I end I issue another little challenge. See how many crafty fox and roistering rooster tales you can recollect. From Chaucer to Chicken-Licken. Then locate the other one. In that story the rooster crows three times.
Saturday 23 February 2013
February Cold
Tuesday 12 February 2013
Snowdrops, a Site Check and Spring
Snow lay on the ground for several days preventing us from weeding, carting manure or other tasks. Today, however, the weather changed subtly and the slow drips of the thaw could be heard. Time for a site check.
Down on our most sheltered plot the primulas (see January entry), were still doing well. So were my Iris Reticulata. I was so glad to see these lovely purple miniatures as last year they did not flower at all. Snowdrops, given by a customer, were also braving the slush, and the daffodils under the apple trees showing signs of brave trumpets to come. In the grassy corridor that leads to one of the entrances little violets are re-emerging after strimming, weed-killing and goodness knows what else. Bluebell leaves are piercing through the ground by the rambling rose that grows up and around the metal gate next to the substation.
And later this week it is Valentine's Day when traditionally the birds chose their mates. We saw a robin, of course, the pigeons, parakeets, magpies, crows that are so frequent; the flash of a jay and besides a sloe bush the tail of a wren bobbed for a moment before it hid itself in the undergrowth.
Flowers and birds ready themselves for Spring. It is truly going to arrive. We feel and see all around us its harbingers.
Down on our most sheltered plot the primulas (see January entry), were still doing well. So were my Iris Reticulata. I was so glad to see these lovely purple miniatures as last year they did not flower at all. Snowdrops, given by a customer, were also braving the slush, and the daffodils under the apple trees showing signs of brave trumpets to come. In the grassy corridor that leads to one of the entrances little violets are re-emerging after strimming, weed-killing and goodness knows what else. Bluebell leaves are piercing through the ground by the rambling rose that grows up and around the metal gate next to the substation.
And later this week it is Valentine's Day when traditionally the birds chose their mates. We saw a robin, of course, the pigeons, parakeets, magpies, crows that are so frequent; the flash of a jay and besides a sloe bush the tail of a wren bobbed for a moment before it hid itself in the undergrowth.
Flowers and birds ready themselves for Spring. It is truly going to arrive. We feel and see all around us its harbingers.
Tuesday 15 January 2013
Salvage from the Shed
In this wintry period we are grateful to our neighbour for hiring us. She has a piece of work in mind and today we started phase one: undertake demolition of old and rotting shed, using brain, muscles and claw hammer.
We set to work with a will. When I say 'we' I have to admit that the lion's share fell to my lionhearted husband as he spent his time hitting sections of shed from the frame, bit by bit. These split and fell to the ground. I picked them up.
I collected the wood into piles: one for the customer, namely, larger pieces (uprights) that we could recycle as posts for her raspberry cane wire supports, one for the wood recycling skip at our local centre, which is only a mile or so away. The third was the rotten roof covering. We shall find a sensible way of disposing of this, as to my certain knowledge, asphalt cannot be added to the woodpile. And lest I forget - the chipboard floor and roof panels - she told us to allow these to decompose.
Half way our dear lady came out to us with a cup of tea and stories of cats, kittens and life as a Land Girl in World War Two.
We salvaged what we could. The concrete base is fine, ready for the new shed. The good wood goes back to her garden. The rotten stuff gets taken away or breaks down back into the soil.
I hope I can build on her stories for any generation that may come after.
Here's a longer quote from one of my favourite poets, T S Eliot. From his wartime Four Quartets, the closing lines of The Dry Salvages
"...And right action also is freedom
From past and future also.
For most of us, this is the aim
Never here to be realised;
Who are only undefeated
Because we have gone on trying;
We, content at the last
If our temporary reversion nourish
(Not too far away from the yew tree)
The life of significant soil."
We set to work with a will. When I say 'we' I have to admit that the lion's share fell to my lionhearted husband as he spent his time hitting sections of shed from the frame, bit by bit. These split and fell to the ground. I picked them up.
I collected the wood into piles: one for the customer, namely, larger pieces (uprights) that we could recycle as posts for her raspberry cane wire supports, one for the wood recycling skip at our local centre, which is only a mile or so away. The third was the rotten roof covering. We shall find a sensible way of disposing of this, as to my certain knowledge, asphalt cannot be added to the woodpile. And lest I forget - the chipboard floor and roof panels - she told us to allow these to decompose.
Half way our dear lady came out to us with a cup of tea and stories of cats, kittens and life as a Land Girl in World War Two.
We salvaged what we could. The concrete base is fine, ready for the new shed. The good wood goes back to her garden. The rotten stuff gets taken away or breaks down back into the soil.
I hope I can build on her stories for any generation that may come after.
Here's a longer quote from one of my favourite poets, T S Eliot. From his wartime Four Quartets, the closing lines of The Dry Salvages
"...And right action also is freedom
From past and future also.
For most of us, this is the aim
Never here to be realised;
Who are only undefeated
Because we have gone on trying;
We, content at the last
If our temporary reversion nourish
(Not too far away from the yew tree)
The life of significant soil."
Wednesday 9 January 2013
Bare-rooted bush
A couple of years ago we acquired a mature gooseberry bush: prickly, covered in lichen but sound. On Monday we had a fresh, new year look at it.
It was growing well from the base after pruning, but at its heart was a big clump of grass. Not couch, I thought. My husband suggested that we remove the grass and move said bush across the plot.
Easier said than done. Drove spade into our heavy Essex clay, soaked with this season's rain. Put on strong gloves. Tugged. Drove spade in again (husband). Finally we heaved it out.
The grass, as surmised, was not couch, but formed a thick mass just above the root system of our bush. Peering at it, I was pretty sure I could tell grass from gooseberry. Tugged. Very little movement from ball of grass except for a few broken stems. Not thorough enough for husband, who hates this invasive stuff.
Suggested dumping bush in communal water tanks to wash off soil from roots. Neither a good nor neighbourly idea.
Put on strong gloves again. Took bush down to the amenity hut. Washed off soil with the help of a redundant milk pan and a disused bath full of rainwater.
Tugged at roots again. Success. Threw grass rootball towards boundary fence as far as possible without incursion into back gardens.
Took bush back to husband. Some roots looked a bit bashed. But on the whole it was pretty sound. Dug hole (husband) down to the subsoil (my insistence) in order to furnish room for bush. Replanted bush and firmed up soil.
Remember us, O you fortunate commuters who drive up to the garden centre to load your trolleys.
Happy New Year from us both.
It was growing well from the base after pruning, but at its heart was a big clump of grass. Not couch, I thought. My husband suggested that we remove the grass and move said bush across the plot.
Easier said than done. Drove spade into our heavy Essex clay, soaked with this season's rain. Put on strong gloves. Tugged. Drove spade in again (husband). Finally we heaved it out.
The grass, as surmised, was not couch, but formed a thick mass just above the root system of our bush. Peering at it, I was pretty sure I could tell grass from gooseberry. Tugged. Very little movement from ball of grass except for a few broken stems. Not thorough enough for husband, who hates this invasive stuff.
Suggested dumping bush in communal water tanks to wash off soil from roots. Neither a good nor neighbourly idea.
Put on strong gloves again. Took bush down to the amenity hut. Washed off soil with the help of a redundant milk pan and a disused bath full of rainwater.
Tugged at roots again. Success. Threw grass rootball towards boundary fence as far as possible without incursion into back gardens.
Took bush back to husband. Some roots looked a bit bashed. But on the whole it was pretty sound. Dug hole (husband) down to the subsoil (my insistence) in order to furnish room for bush. Replanted bush and firmed up soil.
Remember us, O you fortunate commuters who drive up to the garden centre to load your trolleys.
Happy New Year from us both.
Thursday 3 January 2013
Cut your own canes
Today we returned to work after five nights away with cherished relations having received an unexpected phone call.
A has limited resources but supplements what she has with bamboos. A clump grows vigorously in her garden and needed cutting back. After a quick half hour on the patio we were happy to comply.
A's garden now looks tidier. As for us:-
We spent no vouchers or cash. We used no machinery, cutting individual canes with secateurs. We walked to the job and chose what we wanted; whilst the rejects went into A's brown bin en route to our borough's composting facilities. While my husband took our big bundle home, I walked to our local shops and spent some of the money in the Co-op.
Come the growing season we will use them. What a wonderful virtuous recycling circle this has been. Would that life was always this simple.
A has limited resources but supplements what she has with bamboos. A clump grows vigorously in her garden and needed cutting back. After a quick half hour on the patio we were happy to comply.
A's garden now looks tidier. As for us:-
We spent no vouchers or cash. We used no machinery, cutting individual canes with secateurs. We walked to the job and chose what we wanted; whilst the rejects went into A's brown bin en route to our borough's composting facilities. While my husband took our big bundle home, I walked to our local shops and spent some of the money in the Co-op.
Come the growing season we will use them. What a wonderful virtuous recycling circle this has been. Would that life was always this simple.
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