A blessings of our new home is that many of the features we loved on the allotment are present in a new form. For example, readers may remember our allotment 'wildlife hedge', a mass of brambles and russian vine...
Up here we have a mature 'wildlife hedge' in our back yard. Previous owners have inter-planted golden privet, holly, ivy, hawthorn and some variety of leyland cyprus all of which has been trimmed at regular intervals, but is well above head height. It screens us from the dog walkers in the park and is a refuge for the birds.
First of all we put out a large metal holder (gift of a former customer) close to the french windows. But the only taker was the robin who investigates whenever we garden. So with a bit of lugging and the sound of suction - our lawn can get quite waterlogged - we moved it closer to the rear paving and the hedge with immediate success.
Now the robin flies in to attack the fat balls. Crumbs drop on to the lawn and are picked up by the blackbird. When he goes, coal tits come a little nervously from the foliage and have a quick peck. Two wood pigeons sit on the shed roof observing the scene; having worked out that the feeder will not take their weight they also glean on the grass, as do the magpies, at whose arrival all other birds flee and are silent. This pair do not stay for long, and once more the robin takes up his perch.
I sit watching this interplay as the sun comes round to the south. Frost slowly melts from the car and once more we get ready for a trip to the tip to recycle our garden stuff.
Saturday 13 December 2014
Thursday 11 December 2014
Sundial
A little while before we exchanged Essex for Lancashire a friend in Harlow gave us the top part of a sundial. It remained on our coffee table, like an oversized circular paperweight until we moved and unpacked.
By now we had established from both from observation and the use of my mother's old hiking compass that our back garden here on the avenue, faces almost due north. We began a process of filling the terracotta and other pots we had been kindly left by the previous owner with sturdy bedding - winter pansies, clyclamen and hellebores - and arranged these in semi-circular fashion under our bay windows to make the most of the front southerly aspect.
But what to do with the sundial? Not for nothing have we spent nine years allotmenteering and improvising. Take one ornamental chimney pot originally from the back lawn, a bag of gravel discovered in the garage, a circular plant holder. Now our sundial sits atop its pot on our front patio embedded in gravel awaiting the morning rays. This being the north, its improvised holder has filled with rain, sleet and latterly hail. We empty out the water and wait for the spring.
By now we had established from both from observation and the use of my mother's old hiking compass that our back garden here on the avenue, faces almost due north. We began a process of filling the terracotta and other pots we had been kindly left by the previous owner with sturdy bedding - winter pansies, clyclamen and hellebores - and arranged these in semi-circular fashion under our bay windows to make the most of the front southerly aspect.
But what to do with the sundial? Not for nothing have we spent nine years allotmenteering and improvising. Take one ornamental chimney pot originally from the back lawn, a bag of gravel discovered in the garage, a circular plant holder. Now our sundial sits atop its pot on our front patio embedded in gravel awaiting the morning rays. This being the north, its improvised holder has filled with rain, sleet and latterly hail. We empty out the water and wait for the spring.
Wednesday 22 October 2014
Walking, Working, Waiting
Life has changed since we gave up the allotments in anticipation of our move to Lancashire.
The first thing I became aware of was lack of exercise. We have remedied this by long local walks: to the shops, to the library and this morning to a former customer where we posted a loaned side gate key through her front door.
The second missing ingredient was really fresh food. However, yesterday M asked us to prune the big apple tree on her allotment and offered to pay us for it. In a bright sunny spell between the declining winds of the transatlantic storms we did so and came home with some of M's parsley, spinach - her first and successful attempt - and as many eating apples as we could find (we are still cooking with our allotment Bramleys).
The third trial is lack of employment. I loved the plot and often felt that what I did there was of equal value to paid work. Paid work still comes and in this period of transition it comes day by day, phone call by phone call as we wait for our solicitor to finally pronounce on our completion date.
The first thing I became aware of was lack of exercise. We have remedied this by long local walks: to the shops, to the library and this morning to a former customer where we posted a loaned side gate key through her front door.
The second missing ingredient was really fresh food. However, yesterday M asked us to prune the big apple tree on her allotment and offered to pay us for it. In a bright sunny spell between the declining winds of the transatlantic storms we did so and came home with some of M's parsley, spinach - her first and successful attempt - and as many eating apples as we could find (we are still cooking with our allotment Bramleys).
The third trial is lack of employment. I loved the plot and often felt that what I did there was of equal value to paid work. Paid work still comes and in this period of transition it comes day by day, phone call by phone call as we wait for our solicitor to finally pronounce on our completion date.
Tuesday 30 September 2014
Michaelmas Term
Michaelmas marked the traditional start of the agricultural year, as of the academic year, and Monday 29th September, the feast of Michael and All Angels, was our last day on the allotments. Much as we have been doing at home prior to our move, we spent the day tidying up and disposing of things. We took surplus pieces of wood to the tip to be recycled and harvested the last of our parsnips, Bramley apples, some Jerusalem Artichokes and flat leaved parsley from the big greenhouse. Then that was it, we locked the gate and drove away.
Today, we took the gate and hut keys back to the designated office and handed them over in person to a pleasant and helpful council officer. Once more we drove away. Now I am coming to terms with the fact that our tenure of the allotments has ended. I comfort myself by looking at what we have harvested - the Bramleys have been magnificent this year - and what we have saved - the parsnip and squash seeds stored in paper bags, the pot of oregano that is coming north with us, the Michaelmas Daisy clump that my husband dug up yesterday which originally came from our senior customer G. These few significant things will carry us forward.
Meanwhile, waiting to be packed are all the books that I found in charity shops during our time here. I thought that I was buying them for reference for our customers. I think that that may be true, but that I was also buying them for myself - books about borders, container gardening, small gardens, kitchen gardens. These are ready and waiting to be used when we finally arrive in the north west and begin to plan our sowing and growing in yet another avenue.
Today, we took the gate and hut keys back to the designated office and handed them over in person to a pleasant and helpful council officer. Once more we drove away. Now I am coming to terms with the fact that our tenure of the allotments has ended. I comfort myself by looking at what we have harvested - the Bramleys have been magnificent this year - and what we have saved - the parsnip and squash seeds stored in paper bags, the pot of oregano that is coming north with us, the Michaelmas Daisy clump that my husband dug up yesterday which originally came from our senior customer G. These few significant things will carry us forward.
Meanwhile, waiting to be packed are all the books that I found in charity shops during our time here. I thought that I was buying them for reference for our customers. I think that that may be true, but that I was also buying them for myself - books about borders, container gardening, small gardens, kitchen gardens. These are ready and waiting to be used when we finally arrive in the north west and begin to plan our sowing and growing in yet another avenue.
Friday 12 September 2014
Unwinding
I seem to have spent a fair amount of time this week unwinding tendrils of vegetation.
On Monday, it was wisteria. A friend called us in to tackle this. I am not entirely certain that it was the appropriate time of year, nevertheless we did as requested, cutting back and untangling wisteria at the front of the house where it was twining up a cable, and at the back where it had extended itself among the branches of her cherry tree. With several provisos we chopped and confined the wisteria to her ornamental arch.
Later this week it was off to the allotment to take up our runner beans. This was a much easier job. Although runner beans are perennials in their country of origin, in Britain they begin to die off as soon as the temperature drops in autumn so it was time to pull them out and untwine them from the canes that my husband had erected. The beans came out easily and the canes went back into store for whoever takes on the plot after us.
Thursday saw me wresting with various ornamental creepers that were taking over the bushes in another border.
For me, the most fulfilling experience of the three was the allotment. Many customers call us in when their ivy or ornamental climbers have grown, unchecked, all over fence, trellis and tree. This is our work, it pays the bills. But I have enjoyed taking up what I have harvested, tidying it away for a new season.
On Monday, it was wisteria. A friend called us in to tackle this. I am not entirely certain that it was the appropriate time of year, nevertheless we did as requested, cutting back and untangling wisteria at the front of the house where it was twining up a cable, and at the back where it had extended itself among the branches of her cherry tree. With several provisos we chopped and confined the wisteria to her ornamental arch.
Later this week it was off to the allotment to take up our runner beans. This was a much easier job. Although runner beans are perennials in their country of origin, in Britain they begin to die off as soon as the temperature drops in autumn so it was time to pull them out and untwine them from the canes that my husband had erected. The beans came out easily and the canes went back into store for whoever takes on the plot after us.
Thursday saw me wresting with various ornamental creepers that were taking over the bushes in another border.
For me, the most fulfilling experience of the three was the allotment. Many customers call us in when their ivy or ornamental climbers have grown, unchecked, all over fence, trellis and tree. This is our work, it pays the bills. But I have enjoyed taking up what I have harvested, tidying it away for a new season.
Tuesday 2 September 2014
On doing cultivation and construction together
The best feature of our gardening life with M is that we do the tasks we enjoy the most. For example, today we visited M's plot to help her move a tree which was intruding into what has become her temporary structure, which she treats as a greenhouse, coffee lounge and chilling-out space. Note that when I say we, I usually mean my husband.
I do not dig up trees, as readers may recollect.
This morning he was able to transplant an inherited apricot taking it a few feet down the slope to her orchard area. Fortunately it was a fairly young tree and not too much damage seems to have been done. Then my husband and M got down to the enjoyable (for some) activity of positioning two enormous panes of thick glass within the gap which had now opened up in the ramshackle wooden frame of the structure.
I left them to it. I weeded around M's greenhouse base where she has sown spinach for over-wintering, around her cherry tree and along the line of her top plot boundary and then took a spade and fork to some extremely deep rooted weeds. I also sifted out as many white bindweed roots as I could find. I weeded around the concrete tank which now houses M's rhubarb (large and flourishing) and finished off by clearing a spot for cultivation and covering it with a weed suppressant plastic tarpaulin. M has indicated that she may want to sow broad beans in November or potatoes later in 2015.
We stopped and relished the warmth of the noonday sun, sitting on old green chairs under the corrugated plastic roof of the structure. I ate (probaby too many) apples straight from M's trees to prevent my blood sugar from dropping too rapidly. This is an almost unavoidable consequence of diabetes, strenuous exercise and allotments but when I tested at lunch all was reasonable. Then it was off to do a paid gardening job in the afternoon.
What a perfect blend of activity.
I do not dig up trees, as readers may recollect.
This morning he was able to transplant an inherited apricot taking it a few feet down the slope to her orchard area. Fortunately it was a fairly young tree and not too much damage seems to have been done. Then my husband and M got down to the enjoyable (for some) activity of positioning two enormous panes of thick glass within the gap which had now opened up in the ramshackle wooden frame of the structure.
I left them to it. I weeded around M's greenhouse base where she has sown spinach for over-wintering, around her cherry tree and along the line of her top plot boundary and then took a spade and fork to some extremely deep rooted weeds. I also sifted out as many white bindweed roots as I could find. I weeded around the concrete tank which now houses M's rhubarb (large and flourishing) and finished off by clearing a spot for cultivation and covering it with a weed suppressant plastic tarpaulin. M has indicated that she may want to sow broad beans in November or potatoes later in 2015.
We stopped and relished the warmth of the noonday sun, sitting on old green chairs under the corrugated plastic roof of the structure. I ate (probaby too many) apples straight from M's trees to prevent my blood sugar from dropping too rapidly. This is an almost unavoidable consequence of diabetes, strenuous exercise and allotments but when I tested at lunch all was reasonable. Then it was off to do a paid gardening job in the afternoon.
What a perfect blend of activity.
Wednesday 27 August 2014
Removals and Recollections
Our time on the allotments has been somewhat curtailed of late. Our flat is 'sold subject to contract' with our offer accepted on what will be our new home in Preston. Now the legal processes begin. By contrast, the allotment paperwork was simple, a letter to our local authority informing them that we will be handing back the keys at the end of the horticultural year.
Meanwhile, like a house move, there are tasks to be completed - mowing, strimming, cutting back and harvesting. There are things to be done, and things to be left, and things to be given away - a friend has just asked for our small greenhouse. This was free to us and will be free to her in return (we shall ask her son to disassemble and reassemble it). M took some strawberry plants and squash, but is leaving her Bramley as she has so many apple trees of her own. We are also distributing surplus produce to neighbours and friends where we can.
Throughout all this activity the allotments are a place of peace and will continue to be so until the moment that we lock up for the last time. As we enter by the big gate with the car, or the smaller gate on foot, I feel that I live both in the present moment and also at the centre of the last nine years of our tenancy. It is as if many satisfying experiences co-exist at the same time. I cannot explain this, I just know that I am filled with happiness.
Meanwhile, like a house move, there are tasks to be completed - mowing, strimming, cutting back and harvesting. There are things to be done, and things to be left, and things to be given away - a friend has just asked for our small greenhouse. This was free to us and will be free to her in return (we shall ask her son to disassemble and reassemble it). M took some strawberry plants and squash, but is leaving her Bramley as she has so many apple trees of her own. We are also distributing surplus produce to neighbours and friends where we can.
Throughout all this activity the allotments are a place of peace and will continue to be so until the moment that we lock up for the last time. As we enter by the big gate with the car, or the smaller gate on foot, I feel that I live both in the present moment and also at the centre of the last nine years of our tenancy. It is as if many satisfying experiences co-exist at the same time. I cannot explain this, I just know that I am filled with happiness.
Wednesday 30 July 2014
Crevice Gardens
Into the best-laid block paving some weed seeds will fall...and I am paid to go down on my knees and prise them out again. Peering at these little plantlets at close quarters I observe how perfectly they adapt to their patios. Their roots go down into the sand on which the blocks or bricks were laid and penetrate the underlying black membrane that was put in place to suppress them. Their leaves lie flat, making them hard to tug, and their seeds, like miniature dandelions, are distributed by the wind. I scrape mosses that cling to longstanding crazy paving, uproot lawn daisies appearing in pockets of soil, tug at willowherb with its delicate pink flowers, oxalis with clover-like dark leaves and shallow-rooted herb robert, whose leaves are fragrant when crushed.
Turning to July's edition of the Royal Horticultural Society's magazine, The Garden, I found an article on how to create a crevice trough for miniature alpines, mimicking their natural habitat. Alpine enthusiasts can thereby showcase their specimen plants. In contrast for two hours I disassemble these tiny ecosystems, along with their accompanying ants, woodlice, centipedes and beetles. Miniature and beautiful common or garden weeds growing in the 'wrong' place.
Turning to July's edition of the Royal Horticultural Society's magazine, The Garden, I found an article on how to create a crevice trough for miniature alpines, mimicking their natural habitat. Alpine enthusiasts can thereby showcase their specimen plants. In contrast for two hours I disassemble these tiny ecosystems, along with their accompanying ants, woodlice, centipedes and beetles. Miniature and beautiful common or garden weeds growing in the 'wrong' place.
Friday 11 July 2014
Conifers and other culprits
Two of the lawns we attended to this week were showing signs of drought. Previously I have associated this with the heavy clay soils of our allotments. There cracks become visible in high summer where the grassy paths end and the beds begin.
A shady lawn we visited exhibited a crazy paving of cracks under the shadow of leyland cypress. This set me thinking on the habits of these conifers and their deleterious effects on turf, and from there to plants that I have encountered in our daily work and wish to avoid in our next home because they are fast-growing, thirsty, invasive or non-native species whose leaves do not biodegrade easily. So here are ten for my list. I would just add that gardening is a matter of taste, and you, dear readers, may in fact love all of these specimens dearly:
A shady lawn we visited exhibited a crazy paving of cracks under the shadow of leyland cypress. This set me thinking on the habits of these conifers and their deleterious effects on turf, and from there to plants that I have encountered in our daily work and wish to avoid in our next home because they are fast-growing, thirsty, invasive or non-native species whose leaves do not biodegrade easily. So here are ten for my list. I would just add that gardening is a matter of taste, and you, dear readers, may in fact love all of these specimens dearly:
- bamboo which travels
- leylandii which grow tall - unless you are willing to hire a tree surgeon
- prickly pyrecantha which sticks out at awkward angles and pokes you - unless you are capitalising on this as a burglar deterrent
- stag's horn - it dies back at the tips and bits drop off and then it shoots up vigorously in other places
- photinia a.k.a. 'red robin' whose leaves do not biodegrade well
- ash - a tree which will colonise a garden uninvited
- sycamore - ditto
- elder - ditto
- ceanothus - it looks pretty but does not seem to thrive here
- ivy which, unchecked, pulls down your trellis.
Wednesday 2 July 2014
Something about Semolina
Today I picked our red dessert gooseberries. I brought home about 700 grams of ripening fruit and needed some inspiration. I consulted my 'charity shop' cook book selection and went for The Dairy Book of Family Cookery published over thirty years ago in 1983. I was going to make Gooseberry Fool, but had no gelatine, so chose Honeyed Gooseberry Dessert (serves 4). I had all the ingredients, including the semolina which I bought for the stock cupboard on the inspiration of Anjum Anand's Indian Every Day (2003) with the intention of making pilaff or perhaps halva following Madhur Jaffrey (1982). I thought it would be interesting to experiment with semolina.
Semolina that is, that had taken on an exotic guise. How different these recipes seemed from the bland milk-based puddings of my sixties school dinners - semolina, tapioca, sago - or one of my late mother's stand-bys at home before the era of widely available yoghurt - junket made with milk and a flavoured rennet tablet (consumed by mother but not by me).
Honeyed Gooseberry Dessert with its layers of gooseberries and semolina was a success. We ate half of it although we did not eat it chilled as suggested as I was running out of time. I also reduced the sugar content - eighties recipes are not always suitable for diabetics.
So here's to semolina whether by east or west. Semolina rediscovered and relished.
Semolina that is, that had taken on an exotic guise. How different these recipes seemed from the bland milk-based puddings of my sixties school dinners - semolina, tapioca, sago - or one of my late mother's stand-bys at home before the era of widely available yoghurt - junket made with milk and a flavoured rennet tablet (consumed by mother but not by me).
Honeyed Gooseberry Dessert with its layers of gooseberries and semolina was a success. We ate half of it although we did not eat it chilled as suggested as I was running out of time. I also reduced the sugar content - eighties recipes are not always suitable for diabetics.
So here's to semolina whether by east or west. Semolina rediscovered and relished.
Tuesday 1 July 2014
Seedtime and Harvest
This year I have been letting plants go to seed. We will vacate the plots at the end of the growing season and I have refrained from clearing and cutting down everything (although we will of course hand them over, mown and tidy, to whoever comes next). So, for example, I have let the spinach run to seed in its permanent bed. Likewise the rocket, the flat-leaved parsley and the curly-leaved, and the most impressive of all - the parsnips high as hemlocks above my head. I shall be saving seeds from the latter in old prescription paper bags and taking them north.
What a pity that we cannot uproot our soft fruit. I shall be sad to leave my blackcurrant which is having another great year with berries like small black grapes; my redcurrant, also a fruitful bush; the strawberries, the raspberries, the tayberries all delicious in their time. I have struck a dessert gooseberry cutting for M.
I shall be making as much jam as I can from the damsons later this summer and eating or pressing our two varieties of black grapes. We will lay out our apples on the floor of our lounge-diner and finally harvest our winter squash. These hardy plants were a gift from a colleague who commuted from Peterborough.
Seeds are easier to transport than plants. We shall take one herb, a propagated golden oregano whose original was sourced from a garden centre in Poynton, Cheshire and one bush, a blueberry which requires ericaceous compost, a gift from H on the allotment. And then who knows what else our future garden holds? Our Mancunian pastor once observed, 'you always reap what you sow, but you don't always reap where you sow.' I wonder what we shall find.
What a pity that we cannot uproot our soft fruit. I shall be sad to leave my blackcurrant which is having another great year with berries like small black grapes; my redcurrant, also a fruitful bush; the strawberries, the raspberries, the tayberries all delicious in their time. I have struck a dessert gooseberry cutting for M.
I shall be making as much jam as I can from the damsons later this summer and eating or pressing our two varieties of black grapes. We will lay out our apples on the floor of our lounge-diner and finally harvest our winter squash. These hardy plants were a gift from a colleague who commuted from Peterborough.
Seeds are easier to transport than plants. We shall take one herb, a propagated golden oregano whose original was sourced from a garden centre in Poynton, Cheshire and one bush, a blueberry which requires ericaceous compost, a gift from H on the allotment. And then who knows what else our future garden holds? Our Mancunian pastor once observed, 'you always reap what you sow, but you don't always reap where you sow.' I wonder what we shall find.
Monday 2 June 2014
Full Circle on Plot 14A
Tomorrow I am going with M to plant out the last of the winter squash on Plot 14A. We took on this allotment on 14th May 2005 and my husband likes to tell how he cleared most of it with hand shears. At that time we had no mower, no strimmer and no shed. Kind friends helped us to locate and put up a (free) shed, nice customers gave us surplus tools, pots and canes and as our gardening income increased we progressed to powered machinery.
14A is a simple plot. For that reason I have found it much easier to plant and maintain this year as I contemplate our projected move to Lancashire. I have sowed veg in rows - parsnips, broccoli, maincrop potatoes, winter squash (immature it is a useful substitute for courgettes), french beans and onions from seed. These are finally making it after a somewhat slow start.
Ornamentation on Plot 14A is limited and has a 'cottage garden' feel. I have moved our 'Kyril' strawberries from place to place and they now form a decorative and tasty border around two beds. I have 'February Gold' daffodils in line next to the shed, a clump of irises (from a customer), pink geraniums which could be mistaken for wildflowers, sweet williams and penstemons. I also have the ubiquitious Jostaberry which is easy to propagate, gooseberries, and some raspberries which have never performed brilliantly but, well, we were given them and they had to go in somewhere...
I tried a pound shop pear tree, but it did not thrive. I tried rhubarb, but it disliked being in a frost pocket and we moved it. I tried bulb fennel and pak choi. I have had success with cabbage some years and rocket most times, it is one of the hardiest salad leaves I know.
I hope that our plot will be let by Michaelmas. By then I hope to harvest the winter squash, store it and save seed for our future garden. Tomorrow I shall get on with planting out.
14A is a simple plot. For that reason I have found it much easier to plant and maintain this year as I contemplate our projected move to Lancashire. I have sowed veg in rows - parsnips, broccoli, maincrop potatoes, winter squash (immature it is a useful substitute for courgettes), french beans and onions from seed. These are finally making it after a somewhat slow start.
Ornamentation on Plot 14A is limited and has a 'cottage garden' feel. I have moved our 'Kyril' strawberries from place to place and they now form a decorative and tasty border around two beds. I have 'February Gold' daffodils in line next to the shed, a clump of irises (from a customer), pink geraniums which could be mistaken for wildflowers, sweet williams and penstemons. I also have the ubiquitious Jostaberry which is easy to propagate, gooseberries, and some raspberries which have never performed brilliantly but, well, we were given them and they had to go in somewhere...
I tried a pound shop pear tree, but it did not thrive. I tried rhubarb, but it disliked being in a frost pocket and we moved it. I tried bulb fennel and pak choi. I have had success with cabbage some years and rocket most times, it is one of the hardiest salad leaves I know.
I hope that our plot will be let by Michaelmas. By then I hope to harvest the winter squash, store it and save seed for our future garden. Tomorrow I shall get on with planting out.
Thursday 29 May 2014
Toad Hotel
We were occupied with paid gardening work for the month of May and only managed to allocate the allotments a concentrated burst of activity during the May Bank Holiday week. During our absence from these two plots, the beds at the foot of the new fence, the former 'wildlife area' have rapidly reverted to nettles and bindweed. So our plans for sowing squash and tomatoes in these south-facing spots are in abeyance.
However the wildlife is back and thriving. One bed adjacent to the fence is a compost heap covered it with an old rug we found last year. It is a local custom to leave out unwanted items in front gardens for whoever wishes to take them and our allotments have certainly benefitted from this. Under the rug, which had it been in better condition would have toned in nicely with our bedroom carpet, we now have a cluster of toads (and one large frog).
I previously assumed toads were solitary creatures like the toad that intermittently visits our garage, the toad that used to live in the cellar of my childhood home, and the small toad that currently shelters under our shed. I have never seen so many toads in one place before. There are tiny toads, medium sized toads and large toads all wearing the camouflage colour of clods of earth. I lift the covering just to see them when I am depositing weeds on the compost heap. I am quick to replace it and careful not to block any toad exits.
The toads, I assume, are living on a varied diet of slugs and snails, woodlice, beetles and miscellaneous invertebrates. It is a virtuous circle - I continue to weed the allotments, depositing stuff on the pile, the creepy crawlies eat the veg., the toads feast on these in their turn. Long may they remain in their 'toad hotel' and live as snug as the bugs under the rug.
However the wildlife is back and thriving. One bed adjacent to the fence is a compost heap covered it with an old rug we found last year. It is a local custom to leave out unwanted items in front gardens for whoever wishes to take them and our allotments have certainly benefitted from this. Under the rug, which had it been in better condition would have toned in nicely with our bedroom carpet, we now have a cluster of toads (and one large frog).
I previously assumed toads were solitary creatures like the toad that intermittently visits our garage, the toad that used to live in the cellar of my childhood home, and the small toad that currently shelters under our shed. I have never seen so many toads in one place before. There are tiny toads, medium sized toads and large toads all wearing the camouflage colour of clods of earth. I lift the covering just to see them when I am depositing weeds on the compost heap. I am quick to replace it and careful not to block any toad exits.
The toads, I assume, are living on a varied diet of slugs and snails, woodlice, beetles and miscellaneous invertebrates. It is a virtuous circle - I continue to weed the allotments, depositing stuff on the pile, the creepy crawlies eat the veg., the toads feast on these in their turn. Long may they remain in their 'toad hotel' and live as snug as the bugs under the rug.
Tuesday 13 May 2014
M and Mulching
M, our 'allotment apprentice' has just begun some formal study at Organiclea our local organic charity. Last week M told me how to suppress weeds under the fruit trees on her new plot by laying down unwanted flattened cardboard and then putting woodchip on top. Apparently the cardboard and woodchip biodegrade over time. After this has happened you dig them into the soil and then lay a fresh layer the following year. I could immediately see how to apply this for a garden to which we hope to add some interest to at the weekend.
Mulching was obviously still on M's mind as we visited the plot today. She looked at one bed which I have not had time to dig over and asked why I was not covering it. Particularly as we had cleared it together as we took out the tomatoes at the end of last summer. A good point. We unearthed some old carpet and a rug from underneath our plastic tool store, disturbing a small toad in the process which promptly hid itself under our shed. Then we took the carpet and the by now disintegrating rug and covered the area in question, which is awaiting winter squash when the danger of frost is past.
In talking it over with another friend I reflected on M's 'distance travelled' in terms of confidence and competence from student to peer . Our part has almost come to an end.
Mulching was obviously still on M's mind as we visited the plot today. She looked at one bed which I have not had time to dig over and asked why I was not covering it. Particularly as we had cleared it together as we took out the tomatoes at the end of last summer. A good point. We unearthed some old carpet and a rug from underneath our plastic tool store, disturbing a small toad in the process which promptly hid itself under our shed. Then we took the carpet and the by now disintegrating rug and covered the area in question, which is awaiting winter squash when the danger of frost is past.
In talking it over with another friend I reflected on M's 'distance travelled' in terms of confidence and competence from student to peer . Our part has almost come to an end.
Tuesday 6 May 2014
M's new plot, M's new pond
Almost the last item on M's scheme of work last growing season was a session entitled 'Creating a wildlife pond'. We have our own pond on one plot lined with black plastic (M has a suspicion that this has a small tear and is now leaking, but once again, that is another story). We were also given a small oval plastic pond - somewhat similar to a baby bath - by a customer.
M and I spent a crazy morning last summer digging a hole for this under our rose trellis, planting irises around it and filling it with water. We added the 'frog log', a piece of semi-submerged plank to enable frogs to enter and exit, and waited for the wildlife. My husband came along later and 'rebalanced' our efforts. Unfortunately the pond produced midge larvae and the occasional drowned snail, but nothing more. M was disappointed.
So today I decided to donate the pond to M. She was delighted and immediately set about emptying the green, midge-infested water onto the adjacent strawberry bed (they will survive) and then cleaned her recently acquired water feature.
The pond is going to her new site where in the process of clearing stuff which was once useful to the previous plotholder, M has fallen down several small holes. I suggested she 'enlarge' one of these and turn an annoying feature into an intentional one.
We carried M's pond, filled with some plant pots I had also donated, up the hill through the cemetery, balanced on my gardening trolley. It could have easily been mistaken for something else.
M is not a person to hang about. I imagine M plus pond will soon be on the bus which runs down our avenue en route to her plot. That will give the pensioners something to think about.
M and I spent a crazy morning last summer digging a hole for this under our rose trellis, planting irises around it and filling it with water. We added the 'frog log', a piece of semi-submerged plank to enable frogs to enter and exit, and waited for the wildlife. My husband came along later and 'rebalanced' our efforts. Unfortunately the pond produced midge larvae and the occasional drowned snail, but nothing more. M was disappointed.
So today I decided to donate the pond to M. She was delighted and immediately set about emptying the green, midge-infested water onto the adjacent strawberry bed (they will survive) and then cleaned her recently acquired water feature.
The pond is going to her new site where in the process of clearing stuff which was once useful to the previous plotholder, M has fallen down several small holes. I suggested she 'enlarge' one of these and turn an annoying feature into an intentional one.
We carried M's pond, filled with some plant pots I had also donated, up the hill through the cemetery, balanced on my gardening trolley. It could have easily been mistaken for something else.
M is not a person to hang about. I imagine M plus pond will soon be on the bus which runs down our avenue en route to her plot. That will give the pensioners something to think about.
Thursday 1 May 2014
Shower - Shed - Shower
Today is the first of May. I celebrated it by planting out the remainder of the dwarf french beans. This could be a risky venture as frost is forecast for the London area tomorrow night. As I finished it began to rain so I decamped to the shed, sat on an old folding chair and listened to the varying tempi of raindrops on the roof. At one point it thundered.
I waited for the rain to blow over, but after thirty minutes it continued to beat down. It came in heavy pulses and had the intensity that I associate with July and August, when showers fall with a tropical strength. I lost patience. Nothing for it but to find an old bit of plastic bag, cover my hair and venture out. Home I headed, ready for a hot shower and dry clothes.
I waited for the rain to blow over, but after thirty minutes it continued to beat down. It came in heavy pulses and had the intensity that I associate with July and August, when showers fall with a tropical strength. I lost patience. Nothing for it but to find an old bit of plastic bag, cover my hair and venture out. Home I headed, ready for a hot shower and dry clothes.
Tuesday 29 April 2014
The edge of the lawn
The edge of the lawn is where the grass stops and the border begins. As the mild and sunny British spring weather continues I've become well acquainted with the edges of lawns, new and old. Where time permits my husband mows, using our own petrol mower and I attempt the edging. This task begins with a search of the customer's shed for the right tool. Sheds are a fertile topic in their own right, but for the purposes of this post I will limit myself to the edging shears - if I can find them. Are they stuck in that cardboard tube to my left? No, those are our customer's late husband's golf clubs. Try again behind the forks and spades. Finally unearth edging shears. Success. Open and close handles, inspect rusting blades and replace shears where I found them.
Another lawn, another shed. I go straight to the allocated area and take out an almost new pair of hand shears, like shiny red gigantic scissors which rotate through 180 degrees. Kneeling, I manicure the edges of the lawn. A fiddly job but satisfying. In other gardens, lacking such kit, I have been known to resort to a large pair of old kitchen scissors. This is not ideal.
A new customer and another set of shears. Yes, there they are. (I did not notice if there were any golf clubs). What is more they are oiled and in good condition. In a happy frame of mind I head towards the back patio to edge along the lawn only find grass has flowed from the lawns to the borders on my right and left. These need digging out, weeding and redefining, but we are only being paid to mow the lawn. Dispirited, I do what I can, replace the shears and take up a half moon. Time is limited but at least I can try to restore some fragments of crazy paving.
Another lawn, another shed. I go straight to the allocated area and take out an almost new pair of hand shears, like shiny red gigantic scissors which rotate through 180 degrees. Kneeling, I manicure the edges of the lawn. A fiddly job but satisfying. In other gardens, lacking such kit, I have been known to resort to a large pair of old kitchen scissors. This is not ideal.
A new customer and another set of shears. Yes, there they are. (I did not notice if there were any golf clubs). What is more they are oiled and in good condition. In a happy frame of mind I head towards the back patio to edge along the lawn only find grass has flowed from the lawns to the borders on my right and left. These need digging out, weeding and redefining, but we are only being paid to mow the lawn. Dispirited, I do what I can, replace the shears and take up a half moon. Time is limited but at least I can try to restore some fragments of crazy paving.
Tuesday 22 April 2014
At home in the garden
Gardening involves a lot of exercise. Unpaid exercise can be a morning or an afternoon on the allotment: kneeling to weed the strawberries, digging trenches to plant first early potatoes, raking to sow rocket and radishes, lifting the can to water the French beans that wait in the big greenhouse for the last frost to pass, bending to pick the loose leaf lettuce that M and I sowed in March.
Paid exercise is the mowing, weeding, pruning and tidying that we carry out for customers week by week.
Recently I have noticed a strange but rather happy thing. Each allotment begins to feel less like a vegetable plot and more like a back garden. I suppose this could be attributable to our impending move to Lancashire at the end of the growing season.
However, as we work on the customers' lawns and borders the same feeling comes over me. Perhaps this familiarity arises from repeated visits and established relationships. I cannot describe it, all I know that is as I stand there I know that I am at home. Gardening has become for me an exercise in integration.
Paid exercise is the mowing, weeding, pruning and tidying that we carry out for customers week by week.
Recently I have noticed a strange but rather happy thing. Each allotment begins to feel less like a vegetable plot and more like a back garden. I suppose this could be attributable to our impending move to Lancashire at the end of the growing season.
However, as we work on the customers' lawns and borders the same feeling comes over me. Perhaps this familiarity arises from repeated visits and established relationships. I cannot describe it, all I know that is as I stand there I know that I am at home. Gardening has become for me an exercise in integration.
Monday 7 April 2014
Helping M on her first plot
On Saturday we accompanied M to a nearby site. It's on a hillside with a park at the eastern boundary, a nature reserve at the northern end and the branch line to the south. M wanted us to look at two plots that had become free. We were impressed. The site secretary let us in and showed us a very spacious 'hut' - ressembling a community lounge, with darts board and easy chairs; proper toilets and kitchen and a large tool store. Then he took us up to the vacant plots.
The first one was nice and easy and it was obvious he was quite keen for M to take it. M asked to see the second and fell in love with it. We could understand why. I counted the trees coming into blossom and the fruit bushes - a mature espaliered pear tree along the southern boundary, two apples along the eastern side, what looked like an apricot in the middle, a fig, another espaliered apple trained alongside what allotment holders euphemistically refer to as 'a temporary structure' , a young cherry tree, another apple hidden at one end of the temporary structure and a row of gooseberry bushes smothered in brambles.
We returned to the amenity hut, had a nice cup of tea, M paid the deposit on the keys to the hut and locker room, signed the paperwork, memorised the combination on the gate. After lunch we came back and slogged away for five hours. At the end of that time we had strimmed the boundaries (by 'we' I mean my dear husband), uncovered a greenhouse base, emptied out sacks of old compost and horse manure, weeded around the cherry and filled two brown bins. It was when I barked my hand on one of the concrete structures that I knew I had almost had enough. We had cleared about one third.
We sat on the four green plastic chairs we had salvaged and ate hot cross buns. Then I untangled the fig from the brambles and pulled off all last year's small unripe fruit.
It was time to go home. The hillside has some lovely views and a sharp wind. M declined our supper invite. She just wanted to sit in her own flat and count her blessings.
The first one was nice and easy and it was obvious he was quite keen for M to take it. M asked to see the second and fell in love with it. We could understand why. I counted the trees coming into blossom and the fruit bushes - a mature espaliered pear tree along the southern boundary, two apples along the eastern side, what looked like an apricot in the middle, a fig, another espaliered apple trained alongside what allotment holders euphemistically refer to as 'a temporary structure' , a young cherry tree, another apple hidden at one end of the temporary structure and a row of gooseberry bushes smothered in brambles.
We returned to the amenity hut, had a nice cup of tea, M paid the deposit on the keys to the hut and locker room, signed the paperwork, memorised the combination on the gate. After lunch we came back and slogged away for five hours. At the end of that time we had strimmed the boundaries (by 'we' I mean my dear husband), uncovered a greenhouse base, emptied out sacks of old compost and horse manure, weeded around the cherry and filled two brown bins. It was when I barked my hand on one of the concrete structures that I knew I had almost had enough. We had cleared about one third.
We sat on the four green plastic chairs we had salvaged and ate hot cross buns. Then I untangled the fig from the brambles and pulled off all last year's small unripe fruit.
It was time to go home. The hillside has some lovely views and a sharp wind. M declined our supper invite. She just wanted to sit in her own flat and count her blessings.
Friday 4 April 2014
Spring Salad Leaves
We have gone through a whole winter without recourse to any 'shop salads'. By this I mean those plastic packets of leaves, probably puffed up with carbon dioxide, that go slimy in your fridge within a couple of days. In contrast we have been picking our own mixed salads from the large greenhouse (thanks to a packet of seeds from my sister last autumn) which include Japanese mustard, rocket and several varieties of lettuce plus our home grown flat parsley.
Rocket will flower eventually - when in bloom it has a scent and slight ressemblance to wallflowers - so yesterday M and I uprooted some from the large greenhouse and planted red oak-leaved lettuce in its stead. The lettuce seeds were a freebie in the RHS magazine and it is a month since we first sowed them in small pots.
Prior to this, M was, as is her custom on 'snail patrol' throwing as many as she could out of the door.
Later today I will go down to make sure that our little lettuces have withtstood the depredations of any spare molluscs and are standing up.
Rocket will flower eventually - when in bloom it has a scent and slight ressemblance to wallflowers - so yesterday M and I uprooted some from the large greenhouse and planted red oak-leaved lettuce in its stead. The lettuce seeds were a freebie in the RHS magazine and it is a month since we first sowed them in small pots.
Prior to this, M was, as is her custom on 'snail patrol' throwing as many as she could out of the door.
Later today I will go down to make sure that our little lettuces have withtstood the depredations of any spare molluscs and are standing up.
Friday 21 March 2014
Stones, Stone Fruits and Suckers
This week saw us commence what seemed at the outset, a small turfing job for a former pupil of mine. I could write a book about the lessons this has taught me. Here goes.
When her husband took us to the back garden to show us the shady area needing a new lawn I noticed, but did not 'take in' the many 'weeds' that grew, eighteen to twenty inches high, around the base of what was obviously an old apple tree in need of drastic renovation and another large tree that I did not recognise, but guessed from the shrivelled fruit remaining on the topmost boughs might be a sloe. We wrote my pupil a detailed quotation, submitted it and began the job promptly.
When we came to remove the top layer of grass and moss prior to laying down topsoil and turf the following week, we realised that these were not 'weeds' at all, they were the suckers of the other tree which I discover from consulting The complete handbook of fruit growing (1976) is a Myrobolan, a variety of plum or gauge which is used as rootstock for cultivated varieties of plum. Deep down I should have known this. Myrobalans grow along one perimeter of our allotment and also by the railings in the park. They produce small, cherry-like red and yellow fruit, early in the season. U, our neighbour, picked some once and gave us a jar of jam.
Bother, oh bother. Myrobalans put out suckers from their roots, which spring up into miniature trees. We cut them out. This was a long tiring job. Some we managed to pull off entire from their parent roots, others we had to cut out with the secatuers or even the loppers.
Later, we got into conversation with the neighbour who was leaning conversationally over his garage, trimming ivy. We realised after mutual introductions, he is the brother-in-law of another neighbour in our avenue (the one who fixed the double-glazing in U's conservatory). He told us that the old ladies who lived in the house previously had had a greenhouse built under the apple tree. Hence the pieces of hardcore that we kept unearthing and putting in a pile at the end of the garden next to the old shed.
Stones and stone fruits. What was intended for rootstock shoots a thicket of prolific suckers. What was once a greenhouse base in a crazy place is turned into lumps of crazy paving concrete. We have done the best we can. On Monday we cover it all with turf.
When her husband took us to the back garden to show us the shady area needing a new lawn I noticed, but did not 'take in' the many 'weeds' that grew, eighteen to twenty inches high, around the base of what was obviously an old apple tree in need of drastic renovation and another large tree that I did not recognise, but guessed from the shrivelled fruit remaining on the topmost boughs might be a sloe. We wrote my pupil a detailed quotation, submitted it and began the job promptly.
When we came to remove the top layer of grass and moss prior to laying down topsoil and turf the following week, we realised that these were not 'weeds' at all, they were the suckers of the other tree which I discover from consulting The complete handbook of fruit growing (1976) is a Myrobolan, a variety of plum or gauge which is used as rootstock for cultivated varieties of plum. Deep down I should have known this. Myrobalans grow along one perimeter of our allotment and also by the railings in the park. They produce small, cherry-like red and yellow fruit, early in the season. U, our neighbour, picked some once and gave us a jar of jam.
Bother, oh bother. Myrobalans put out suckers from their roots, which spring up into miniature trees. We cut them out. This was a long tiring job. Some we managed to pull off entire from their parent roots, others we had to cut out with the secatuers or even the loppers.
Later, we got into conversation with the neighbour who was leaning conversationally over his garage, trimming ivy. We realised after mutual introductions, he is the brother-in-law of another neighbour in our avenue (the one who fixed the double-glazing in U's conservatory). He told us that the old ladies who lived in the house previously had had a greenhouse built under the apple tree. Hence the pieces of hardcore that we kept unearthing and putting in a pile at the end of the garden next to the old shed.
Stones and stone fruits. What was intended for rootstock shoots a thicket of prolific suckers. What was once a greenhouse base in a crazy place is turned into lumps of crazy paving concrete. We have done the best we can. On Monday we cover it all with turf.
Tuesday 11 March 2014
Rhubarb and custard
Now sheltered by our large greenhouse and fortified by plenty of well-rotted manure, our rhubarb is going strong. We have a mixture of varieties - we paid £5.00 for a pot from a garden centre, (afterwards H said she could have given us a root for free) and some more from a temporary contract my husband undertook in Highgate. I have forgotten which is which.
We do not force our rhubarb, although the old-fashioned method is to bring it on under large clay pots. This works, should you wish to eat tender pink rhubarb in January. I prefer to let my rhubarb grow sturdily at its own rate. I pulled about eight to ten stalks for the first crumble of March 2014 served with custard as my husband prefers.
Rhubarb has its place in history on my maternal side. An uncle of my mother's by marriage was a farmer in what has become the Greater Manchester borough of Trafford. He ploughed with horses and grew rhubarb. We used to visit him and my great aunt as children in the Sixties. The farm was long gone, but the horse brasses remained. Many times when driving through the area my mother used to shout out this simple and succinct advertising slogan of her younger days: 'Eat more rhubarb!'.
I wonder if one of our rhubarb varieties is Timperley Early. A pleasing homage to my Cheshire forbears if it were so.
We do not force our rhubarb, although the old-fashioned method is to bring it on under large clay pots. This works, should you wish to eat tender pink rhubarb in January. I prefer to let my rhubarb grow sturdily at its own rate. I pulled about eight to ten stalks for the first crumble of March 2014 served with custard as my husband prefers.
Rhubarb has its place in history on my maternal side. An uncle of my mother's by marriage was a farmer in what has become the Greater Manchester borough of Trafford. He ploughed with horses and grew rhubarb. We used to visit him and my great aunt as children in the Sixties. The farm was long gone, but the horse brasses remained. Many times when driving through the area my mother used to shout out this simple and succinct advertising slogan of her younger days: 'Eat more rhubarb!'.
I wonder if one of our rhubarb varieties is Timperley Early. A pleasing homage to my Cheshire forbears if it were so.
Saturday 8 March 2014
Coming out of hibernation
Bees, butterflies and ladybirds are coming out of hibernation early this spring.
Whilst cleaning this week I noted that the ladybird huddle (mainly harlequins) in the top right hand corner of our windows was beginning to stir. Some are still somnolent (or dead, perhaps?) but the lively ones climbing the lace curtains were extricated and dropped onto the outside windowsill to make their own way.
Down on the plot this afternoon I saw three Small Tortoiseshell (Aglais urticae) butterflies, one solitary and the other two fluttering in what seemed like a courtship flight. My reference book tells me that they emerge from hibernation in March to May. The nettles, their food plant, are just beginning to reappear on the cleared area that was once the 'wildlife hedge'. My husband also spotted a Brimstone (Gonepteryx rhamni) in a local lane.
Finally I was glad to see a large bumblebee on the flowers of our Rosemary Miss Jessup.
On every visit I inspect our pond. The toad that lives next to the small greenhouse was awake when we tidied up around him or her but no spawn as yet, and no frogspawn. We wait and see.
Whilst cleaning this week I noted that the ladybird huddle (mainly harlequins) in the top right hand corner of our windows was beginning to stir. Some are still somnolent (or dead, perhaps?) but the lively ones climbing the lace curtains were extricated and dropped onto the outside windowsill to make their own way.
Down on the plot this afternoon I saw three Small Tortoiseshell (Aglais urticae) butterflies, one solitary and the other two fluttering in what seemed like a courtship flight. My reference book tells me that they emerge from hibernation in March to May. The nettles, their food plant, are just beginning to reappear on the cleared area that was once the 'wildlife hedge'. My husband also spotted a Brimstone (Gonepteryx rhamni) in a local lane.
Finally I was glad to see a large bumblebee on the flowers of our Rosemary Miss Jessup.
On every visit I inspect our pond. The toad that lives next to the small greenhouse was awake when we tidied up around him or her but no spawn as yet, and no frogspawn. We wait and see.
Friday 7 March 2014
Tranquil Gardens
We have been given a new customer and week by week are discovering her preferences. At our first meeting she told us that she led a very busy life and that she wanted a tranquil garden. Clues to this, we discerned, were the oriental ornaments placed at focal points.
We aim to please. In the last two weeks we have primed two new fence sections and painted the other existing fences and trellis work. To reach the fences and trellis we overcame overhanging ivy and various thorn-bearing and decorative shrubs and cut them back where appropriate. We raked the lawn several times to tidy up our bits and bobs, remove moss and leave a good impression. We took a small border fork to the beds we stood amongst to paint the fence and lightly titivated the surface of the mulched soil to erase our boot prints. We made all instances of our interventions invisible save for filling the brown bin. All is tranquillity again.
We aim to please. In the last two weeks we have primed two new fence sections and painted the other existing fences and trellis work. To reach the fences and trellis we overcame overhanging ivy and various thorn-bearing and decorative shrubs and cut them back where appropriate. We raked the lawn several times to tidy up our bits and bobs, remove moss and leave a good impression. We took a small border fork to the beds we stood amongst to paint the fence and lightly titivated the surface of the mulched soil to erase our boot prints. We made all instances of our interventions invisible save for filling the brown bin. All is tranquillity again.
Wednesday 5 March 2014
Sow your onions - in root trainers
G, one of our valued customers gave my husband some unwanted root trainers a few weeks ago. G would not be seen dead in the other kind of trainers - when we see him out and about on his errands he is suited in tweed and cap with matching shiny brown brogues.
Plastic root trainers are assembled in fours, have an elongated shape about the length of my finger and are hinged. The idea is that when it is time to plant out or to pot on the plants you unhinge the root trainers and have compact blocks of compost with healthily rooted plants which are easier to handle. My husband took them down to our large greenhouse.
M stuffed sieved compost into ten sets of root trainers preparatory to sowing onion seed. She indicated that this was somewhat fiddly and time-consuming task, more to G's liking than hers. We persevered. I sowed four seeds of early Onion Ailsa Craig per plastic container. We filled them all and placed them in an old plastic drawer. Then we cut up a discarded plastic bag and pegged it over the top to retain warmth and moisture.
This is my second attempt at growing onions from seed. My Japanese onions (see earlier post) have continued to grow outside in our mild, wet winter and are now the size of large spring onions or small leeks. I would usually buy onion sets - immature onions that have been specially treated and grow to maturity when planted out in late spring. This season I am going to try the old-fashioned way. A bit like G, really. Let's see if it works.
Plastic root trainers are assembled in fours, have an elongated shape about the length of my finger and are hinged. The idea is that when it is time to plant out or to pot on the plants you unhinge the root trainers and have compact blocks of compost with healthily rooted plants which are easier to handle. My husband took them down to our large greenhouse.
M stuffed sieved compost into ten sets of root trainers preparatory to sowing onion seed. She indicated that this was somewhat fiddly and time-consuming task, more to G's liking than hers. We persevered. I sowed four seeds of early Onion Ailsa Craig per plastic container. We filled them all and placed them in an old plastic drawer. Then we cut up a discarded plastic bag and pegged it over the top to retain warmth and moisture.
This is my second attempt at growing onions from seed. My Japanese onions (see earlier post) have continued to grow outside in our mild, wet winter and are now the size of large spring onions or small leeks. I would usually buy onion sets - immature onions that have been specially treated and grow to maturity when planted out in late spring. This season I am going to try the old-fashioned way. A bit like G, really. Let's see if it works.
Friday 28 February 2014
Sowing under glass
We are sowing under glass to get ahead this growing season.
Last week M and I visited the small greenhouse where my husband had nailed together an insulated wooden box. We sowed chilli pepper (saved) seed in this. The theory is that thus doubly insulated, the chilli peppers will have a head start. We also sowed summer cabbage in seed trays and early peas in a length of old drainpipe.
My husband then got busy at home with tomatoes (commercial - a packet from last year), winter squash (saved seed) and pumpkin (culinary - saved from last November) under sheets of glass to retain warmth.
M and I went down to the big greenhouse this week and sowed dwarf french beans in pots. Once more my husband came up with a handy construction - a sheet of corrugated plastic nailed to two laths of wood, which is now covering the beans., once again keeping in warmth.
Last time we looked, there was no movement with the chillis the peas, and the cabbage but in the favourable conditions of what M calls our 'luxury greenhouse', otherwise known as our lounge-diner, the squash, pumpkins and tomatoes are beginning to appear. Here we are at the end of February and I am surprised at their speedy germination. Our climate (outside the controlled conditions of our flat) is unpredictable as ever. The trick will be to keep these young plants growing at the right speed, to know when to transfer them to the big greenhouse, at what stage to pot on and when to take the big step of planting out when the risk of frost is over.
Last week M and I visited the small greenhouse where my husband had nailed together an insulated wooden box. We sowed chilli pepper (saved) seed in this. The theory is that thus doubly insulated, the chilli peppers will have a head start. We also sowed summer cabbage in seed trays and early peas in a length of old drainpipe.
My husband then got busy at home with tomatoes (commercial - a packet from last year), winter squash (saved seed) and pumpkin (culinary - saved from last November) under sheets of glass to retain warmth.
M and I went down to the big greenhouse this week and sowed dwarf french beans in pots. Once more my husband came up with a handy construction - a sheet of corrugated plastic nailed to two laths of wood, which is now covering the beans., once again keeping in warmth.
Last time we looked, there was no movement with the chillis the peas, and the cabbage but in the favourable conditions of what M calls our 'luxury greenhouse', otherwise known as our lounge-diner, the squash, pumpkins and tomatoes are beginning to appear. Here we are at the end of February and I am surprised at their speedy germination. Our climate (outside the controlled conditions of our flat) is unpredictable as ever. The trick will be to keep these young plants growing at the right speed, to know when to transfer them to the big greenhouse, at what stage to pot on and when to take the big step of planting out when the risk of frost is over.
Tuesday 18 February 2014
On the uses of vinegar
I have already used vinegar for making chutney and for cleaning our two greenhouses with M. Today I combined bicarbonate of soda (an ingredient of Lancashire Parkin and teabreads) and hot distilled vinegar to unblock a slowly draining handbasin in our bathroom.
The technique is to pour down the bicarb. first, then the hot vinegar and to follow this with hot water to flush through.
As I watched the reaction that occured when these two substances came into contact with a satisfying 'fizz' I thought back to my days at high school. I was an 'arts' person who found essays easier than equations. Moreover our teacher, God rest her soul, often struggled with ill health. I therefore dropped Chemistry as soon as I could.
Today as I watched the water draining down the plughole I came to the conclusion that (with time) I could have grasped Chemistry. If only I could have started with household stuff: bicarb, bleach, beeswax, and then built up to the equations.
My chemistry, like my cooking will always be 'kitchen chemistry' but I will still wonder at and record the amazing nature of everyday things. I console myself. I am capable, I could have taken Chemistry.
The technique is to pour down the bicarb. first, then the hot vinegar and to follow this with hot water to flush through.
As I watched the reaction that occured when these two substances came into contact with a satisfying 'fizz' I thought back to my days at high school. I was an 'arts' person who found essays easier than equations. Moreover our teacher, God rest her soul, often struggled with ill health. I therefore dropped Chemistry as soon as I could.
Today as I watched the water draining down the plughole I came to the conclusion that (with time) I could have grasped Chemistry. If only I could have started with household stuff: bicarb, bleach, beeswax, and then built up to the equations.
My chemistry, like my cooking will always be 'kitchen chemistry' but I will still wonder at and record the amazing nature of everyday things. I console myself. I am capable, I could have taken Chemistry.
Monday 10 February 2014
Clear Glass
At the bottom of my winter tasks that include barrowing out manure, enlarging beds and pruning comes cleaning. I prefer 'outdoor' jobs on the allotment, but M loves cleaning and so we tackled the large greenhouse last week armed with two cheap sponges from the pound shop, yellow rubber gloves, a bucket and a bottle of distilled vinegar.
The greenhouse on our orchard plot is larger and sturdier than the other one and accordingly much easier. Most of the green lichen-like stuff was along the east and south sides. I went backwards and forwards between the plot and the amentity hut with buckets of hot water as M sponged down the exterior followed by the interior. I then contorted myself and knelt under the metal tables cleaning panes at floor level (M is taller than I). My final contribution was to attach a sponge to a bamboo cane with a plastic clothes peg in order to reach the highest panes. This makes M laugh.
I asked M why she liked cleaning so much (and have her permission to blog this). She told me that it comes from her love of photography, which literally translated means 'writing with light'.
We stepped back to admire our handiwork. Our greenhouse is now ready for propagation in the spring. Once again, it seemed much larger. Much of the glass was now so clear and clean that it was hardly visible.
(PS On Monday we went to the plot. It started to rain, once more. My husband tidied our big greenhouse. The showers diminished overhead and through our newly-cleaned windows we saw a double rainbow.)
The greenhouse on our orchard plot is larger and sturdier than the other one and accordingly much easier. Most of the green lichen-like stuff was along the east and south sides. I went backwards and forwards between the plot and the amentity hut with buckets of hot water as M sponged down the exterior followed by the interior. I then contorted myself and knelt under the metal tables cleaning panes at floor level (M is taller than I). My final contribution was to attach a sponge to a bamboo cane with a plastic clothes peg in order to reach the highest panes. This makes M laugh.
I asked M why she liked cleaning so much (and have her permission to blog this). She told me that it comes from her love of photography, which literally translated means 'writing with light'.
We stepped back to admire our handiwork. Our greenhouse is now ready for propagation in the spring. Once again, it seemed much larger. Much of the glass was now so clear and clean that it was hardly visible.
(PS On Monday we went to the plot. It started to rain, once more. My husband tidied our big greenhouse. The showers diminished overhead and through our newly-cleaned windows we saw a double rainbow.)
Wednesday 5 February 2014
Subsoil
M came down to the plot with me yesterday to help me finish extending one of our beds which I had decided to enlarge. I find it hard to think in metric measures on the plot and the amount of turf we removed was roughly rectangular, a foot and a half by six feet (measured by green wellingtons).
I gave the whole area a very quick weeding while M, who has learned not to rush things, shook off the excess soil and put the sods that she had cut into the barrow for transportation. Some them were very heavy and very soggy. The yellow clay M uncovered right at the bottom looked like modelling clay.
As I worked I moved outward from the central cultivated area where last season we grew tomatoes in one half and chard in the other. This was the good soil, enriched over several seasons and easy to fork and weed. Next we reached the margins where meadow grass, dandelions and buttercups unceasingly attempt to colonise the beds. Then we made a fresh inroad into the layer just above the subsoil, full of flinty pebbles.
We barrowed out two and a half loads of manure. Most of the rich stuff went, where most needed, on top of the subsoil.
I gave the whole area a very quick weeding while M, who has learned not to rush things, shook off the excess soil and put the sods that she had cut into the barrow for transportation. Some them were very heavy and very soggy. The yellow clay M uncovered right at the bottom looked like modelling clay.
As I worked I moved outward from the central cultivated area where last season we grew tomatoes in one half and chard in the other. This was the good soil, enriched over several seasons and easy to fork and weed. Next we reached the margins where meadow grass, dandelions and buttercups unceasingly attempt to colonise the beds. Then we made a fresh inroad into the layer just above the subsoil, full of flinty pebbles.
We barrowed out two and a half loads of manure. Most of the rich stuff went, where most needed, on top of the subsoil.
Wednesday 29 January 2014
Of Fig Trees (1)
There can be all the difference in the world between reading advice and taking advice from a person you respect...
February's RHS magazine tells you how and when to prune figs for the best fruit yields. I must have read or skimmed this article, and I knew it was appropriate to do some light pruning in November, but it was not until I was on the plot talking to H, our resident horticulturalist, that I saw the point. We first had a wide-ranging conversation down by the manure heap and then H walked up the muddy path to visit our warmest plot. She complimented us on our autumn sown broad beans and the primulas under our apple tree and then turned her attention to the fig trees by the small greenhouse. She told me to break off and discard all of last autumn's unripe fruit.
I must admit, I had left these figs on the trees. They gave the illusion of fruitfulness. Many were rotting, some had a dark ressemblance of ripeness but were dry and bitter, others were hard and green. Some had fallen down among M's daffodil pots. I asked H for a reason because I respond better to advice when I am given an explanation.
So H told me that last season's unripe fruit, if it remains on the tree, will inhibit the growth of this season's fruit. Unlike Cyprus, the fig in these northerly latitudes will bear one crop, not two. The second crop stands no chance of ripening.
So I broke them all off, straight away, as H suggested. The trees looked a little bare. This year's figs were tiny and unformed, hardly the size of the fingernail on my smallest finger.
Later H came back, bearing a small fig in a pot that she had propagated to be kept under shelter in the greenhouse. It is a gift for M when she gets her own plot.
February's RHS magazine tells you how and when to prune figs for the best fruit yields. I must have read or skimmed this article, and I knew it was appropriate to do some light pruning in November, but it was not until I was on the plot talking to H, our resident horticulturalist, that I saw the point. We first had a wide-ranging conversation down by the manure heap and then H walked up the muddy path to visit our warmest plot. She complimented us on our autumn sown broad beans and the primulas under our apple tree and then turned her attention to the fig trees by the small greenhouse. She told me to break off and discard all of last autumn's unripe fruit.
I must admit, I had left these figs on the trees. They gave the illusion of fruitfulness. Many were rotting, some had a dark ressemblance of ripeness but were dry and bitter, others were hard and green. Some had fallen down among M's daffodil pots. I asked H for a reason because I respond better to advice when I am given an explanation.
So H told me that last season's unripe fruit, if it remains on the tree, will inhibit the growth of this season's fruit. Unlike Cyprus, the fig in these northerly latitudes will bear one crop, not two. The second crop stands no chance of ripening.
So I broke them all off, straight away, as H suggested. The trees looked a little bare. This year's figs were tiny and unformed, hardly the size of the fingernail on my smallest finger.
Later H came back, bearing a small fig in a pot that she had propagated to be kept under shelter in the greenhouse. It is a gift for M when she gets her own plot.
Thursday 23 January 2014
The Constant Gardener
I have found that persevering on the allotments, whatever the conditions is a test of constancy and good intent. John Bunyan, who found his way through plenty of muddy sloughs, believed that faith triumphs over that fatal affliction for gardeners, discouragement:
Come wind, come weather. I experienced both today. It rained at the onset. Then the rain eventually stopped. I barrowed out two loads of manure along muddy paths in the downpours and one in the sunny period that followed.
Who so beset him round with dismal stories. Snow, it was predicted in 2013, would blanket Britain at midwinter. Autumnal red berries abounded and country folk who reputedly know about these things posted warnings. Some of our neighbours read these and kindly informed me. The snow has yet to fall.
Then fancies fly away. I could easily imagine the worst, but in hope I carry on. I uprooted a bed of broccoli that had come to the end of its productive life and culled more greens for tonight's supper. The whiteflies, deprived of shelter and sustenance fluttered feebly away.
Come wind, come weather. I experienced both today. It rained at the onset. Then the rain eventually stopped. I barrowed out two loads of manure along muddy paths in the downpours and one in the sunny period that followed.
Who so beset him round with dismal stories. Snow, it was predicted in 2013, would blanket Britain at midwinter. Autumnal red berries abounded and country folk who reputedly know about these things posted warnings. Some of our neighbours read these and kindly informed me. The snow has yet to fall.
Then fancies fly away. I could easily imagine the worst, but in hope I carry on. I uprooted a bed of broccoli that had come to the end of its productive life and culled more greens for tonight's supper. The whiteflies, deprived of shelter and sustenance fluttered feebly away.
Thursday 16 January 2014
Potagers
Today it was warm outside (10 degrees C, 50 degrees F and 62 degrees F in the big greenhouse) so I moved the strawberries (Kyril) from a narrow, windy bed reckoning that as they are of Russian provenance (see my earlier post) that they would stand the surprise of being transplanted on my birthday rather than in the spring. I lifted each plant and made sure that there was plenty of soil underneath their shallow roots. Then I arranged them around three sides of a recently enlarged bed which I had thought at one stage of turning over to strawberries when the broccoli had finished. Then it came to me, a border of strawberries, let's get on with it. I had already moved some manure, so my husband mixed it in further to ensure that it was not too rich.
Most of the Kryil were of a good size and now they have space to extend as I have spaced between six and seven on each side of the square. Smaller, leftover plants have found a home in a bed next to the big greenhouse. Now I have what I could call a potager. There were also enough strawberries for an adjacent bed by the shed where the line of February Gold daffodils might this year live up to their name.
I am conscious of how my views on allotmenteering have changed over the last five years. I can have garlic chives, daffodils, rocket, penstemons, sweet william and now strawberries all in the same space. I plan to attract bees, to provide cut flowers, for scent and display in early spring and for salads. I leave pot marigolds where they have self-seeded and let sunflowers spring up and surprise me. The allotment has become my kitchen garden.
Most of the Kryil were of a good size and now they have space to extend as I have spaced between six and seven on each side of the square. Smaller, leftover plants have found a home in a bed next to the big greenhouse. Now I have what I could call a potager. There were also enough strawberries for an adjacent bed by the shed where the line of February Gold daffodils might this year live up to their name.
I am conscious of how my views on allotmenteering have changed over the last five years. I can have garlic chives, daffodils, rocket, penstemons, sweet william and now strawberries all in the same space. I plan to attract bees, to provide cut flowers, for scent and display in early spring and for salads. I leave pot marigolds where they have self-seeded and let sunflowers spring up and surprise me. The allotment has become my kitchen garden.
Wednesday 15 January 2014
Play Ground
A regular sound on the allotments - along with the screeching of parakeets and the chugging rotors of police helicopters over the cemetery - is the noise of the playground. In term and out of term I can hear a neighbouring bell ring for mid-morning break, lunch and afternoon break.
The allotment is a playground. As a true child of the 1950s I have permission to get dirty, move earth and water, construct and demolish structures, plant seeds, talk to animals in generally friendly terms (foxes and pigeons excepted), drink out of my water bottle, snack on fruit straight from the trees. I wear green wellington boots that go 'gloop' in the mud, I get earth under my fingernails...
And it is not. It is a workplace with real tools that grown-ups use - spades, secateurs, rakes that have to be laid down carefully when not in use then cleaned and put away. I have to tidy up after myself and remember to lock the shed. I need to be aware of my diabetes. I have to plan, although planning is always contingent and changes season by season with our increasingly unpredictable climate. It is a place for team work. I collaborate with and take account of the preferences of my husband.
The allotment is a school where I communicate enthusiasm, demonstrate and then stage the tasks for M in the hope that she will take things further for herself. It's also a place where I continue to learn from the experienced oldtimers and experts and from the young men who've been busy finding out things from the Internet.
Is the allotment my life? Not literally, quite often metaphorically. It is my recreation ground.
The allotment is a playground. As a true child of the 1950s I have permission to get dirty, move earth and water, construct and demolish structures, plant seeds, talk to animals in generally friendly terms (foxes and pigeons excepted), drink out of my water bottle, snack on fruit straight from the trees. I wear green wellington boots that go 'gloop' in the mud, I get earth under my fingernails...
And it is not. It is a workplace with real tools that grown-ups use - spades, secateurs, rakes that have to be laid down carefully when not in use then cleaned and put away. I have to tidy up after myself and remember to lock the shed. I need to be aware of my diabetes. I have to plan, although planning is always contingent and changes season by season with our increasingly unpredictable climate. It is a place for team work. I collaborate with and take account of the preferences of my husband.
The allotment is a school where I communicate enthusiasm, demonstrate and then stage the tasks for M in the hope that she will take things further for herself. It's also a place where I continue to learn from the experienced oldtimers and experts and from the young men who've been busy finding out things from the Internet.
Is the allotment my life? Not literally, quite often metaphorically. It is my recreation ground.
Monday 13 January 2014
Turf Stacks
Last week M wondered why our grassy paths on one allotment were so wide and suggested we could grow more stuff with bigger beds. A good point. So I showed her how enlarge a bed by cutting turves, shook off as much loose soil as possible, then piled them upside down and made a turf stack. Initially this was an informal arrangement in one of the hedges, but today I continued the task after my husband had reassembled the pallets for the winter squash area.
{An added incentive for this was the little box of squash seeds my sister had saved and sent after our new year visit. When I successfully download from my mobile phone to the computer I will post a picture.}
Today therefore I began a vegetative sandwich in the squash bed with turves at the bottom, compost from the communal heap and then another layer of turves. The grass will decompose over time.
When M eventually gets her own allotment, as we pray she will, it is probable she will have to start clearing it from scratch. As she cuts out her new growing areas, the turves ought to form her first turf stack. The enlargement we have started now is the first practical step towards this.
{An added incentive for this was the little box of squash seeds my sister had saved and sent after our new year visit. When I successfully download from my mobile phone to the computer I will post a picture.}
Today therefore I began a vegetative sandwich in the squash bed with turves at the bottom, compost from the communal heap and then another layer of turves. The grass will decompose over time.
When M eventually gets her own allotment, as we pray she will, it is probable she will have to start clearing it from scratch. As she cuts out her new growing areas, the turves ought to form her first turf stack. The enlargement we have started now is the first practical step towards this.
Thursday 9 January 2014
January's Rose
We went away to family, did some gardening and returned to three allotments sodden with heavy rain. We started back to work in earnest this week.
Today we sorted a large heap of branches, leftovers from the helpful deeds of the relations of the lady of the house. It is piled towards the rear of her garden, supporting brambles and bindweed and although not discernable from the kitchen window, is still something of a mess. My husband chopped it down to recycling sized pieces ready for the next green bag collection. Two robins came to investigate what was on offer.
I worked along one of the shrub borders, at times closely accompanied by the robins, taking ivy off the new fence, pruning back the buddleia, tackling another unnamed shrub and finally cutting suckers from the base of the climbing rose. This rose had leaves and yellow rosebuds. I have taken home one inadvertent pruning and put in a vase.
January's rose is usually the hellebore, the Christmas Rose that flowers first before it sends out leaves, coming up from the earth. I have some yet to bloom under the apple tree in the allotment.
This morning, in this sheltered spot was like late February or early March. The buds on the shrub I was pruning were beginning to turn green; bluebell leaves were visible and the bulbs we planted for our customer had survived the squirrels and were beginning to poke above the compost.
I do not know what judgement to pronounce on the weather. I am just grateful that we can work.
Today we sorted a large heap of branches, leftovers from the helpful deeds of the relations of the lady of the house. It is piled towards the rear of her garden, supporting brambles and bindweed and although not discernable from the kitchen window, is still something of a mess. My husband chopped it down to recycling sized pieces ready for the next green bag collection. Two robins came to investigate what was on offer.
I worked along one of the shrub borders, at times closely accompanied by the robins, taking ivy off the new fence, pruning back the buddleia, tackling another unnamed shrub and finally cutting suckers from the base of the climbing rose. This rose had leaves and yellow rosebuds. I have taken home one inadvertent pruning and put in a vase.
January's rose is usually the hellebore, the Christmas Rose that flowers first before it sends out leaves, coming up from the earth. I have some yet to bloom under the apple tree in the allotment.
This morning, in this sheltered spot was like late February or early March. The buds on the shrub I was pruning were beginning to turn green; bluebell leaves were visible and the bulbs we planted for our customer had survived the squirrels and were beginning to poke above the compost.
I do not know what judgement to pronounce on the weather. I am just grateful that we can work.
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