Seasonal Retrospect

Today I thought I would look at the pluses and minuses of our first gardening year in the north west.

This garden needed some work if we were to grow our own.  We came in late autumn and with some expenditure of time, energy and finance my husband transformed what was formerly an old garage base cum border with miscellaneous shrubs into the raised bed area we have now.  Verdict on the vegetables - Broad beans and French beans after a slow-ish start did well.  They fix their own nitrogen and did not need a rich soil.  Leeks were not too happy - we are putting this right for next year with lots of compost.  Spinach was attacked by snails (easy to spot and sent flying into the park) and leaf-miners.  However, the cold has now killed them off.  Kale sown in the beds previously occupied by beans is doing reasonably well. It's netted against the pigeons but there is still some snail damage. Parsnips in the wrong area but we may get some for Christmas.  Also we sourced and collected our own free compost instead of having it delivered to our allotment site.

Soft fruit.  Mainly positioning problems.  Some raspberries and blackcurrants in the wrong place.  Now moved.  One summer raspberry cane is even now under the impression that it is an autumn one and is still attempting to fruit.

Apples.  Looked lovely, and did bear some fruit in their first year.  Hope for good things once they are more established.

Containers - worked for winter squash at the front of the house and to a limited extent for salads which now have their own purpose made 'crib' next to the greenhouse.

New greenhouse - invaluable.  No chance of our pelargoniums (geraniums) surviving the winter without it.   Currently also sheltering a mixture of saved bedding plants, two fuchsias and our jasmine.

New shed.  A necessary structure even though we possess a newly-painted and renovated garage.  Our shed is the warmest spot in the garden and is 'carpeted' with an off-cut from our back bedroom.  Currently used for drying lavender and over-wintering regal pelargoniums.  Fragrant luxury.  We replaced a shack with a shed and are very grateful.

Other miscellaneous and maintenance.  Sorted out our compost bins at the rear and pruned privet.  Husband drastically reduced eucalyptus and holly in front of shed.  Purchased and planted rhubarb.  Next door had his big Leyland cypress removed.  Our very grateful thanks to S for this.  Primed and whitewashed one wall.  Painted fence.  Husband created his own border project on the left hand side.  Found the warmest spot to place herbs.  Removed some sickly roses, transplanted two clematis.  Finally placed our honeysuckle and michaelmas daisies from the allotment.  Created a strawberry bed in the front with thanks to family. 

Overall conclusions.  It has been a year of transition and transition is always challenging.  We've built on our experience of what worked before.  Some plants will never thrive up here, some will produce with a little bit of extra attention and nurture and some (good old kale!) will grow regardless.  I'm not planning anything before Christmas, that's far too early, but just occasionally I pop out to the front beds to see my iris reticulata gradually start to emerge. 

 

The scent of herbs

I remember a colleague in the south east who taught descriptive writing by means of the five senses: touch, smell, sight, hearing and taste.  When I open the door to our shed it is the second that strikes me - the scent of herbs.

The noonday sun that shone in full strength on our back garden has begun its decline towards the west.   By mid afternoon we are mostly in the shade.  The warmest and the most aromatic spot is our potting shed.  Here we are drying lavender and coriander seeds; the background tones to their perfume aprovided by resinous wood and an earthy partially opened bag of compost.  Perhaps later, when it gets colder in our greenhouse we shall blend the scent of the geraniums that we are over-wintering.

The sounds of our shed are easily drowned out.  The music of the birds beginning their autumn songs, the wind in the birch trees in the park compete with the motorway traffic, the pile drivers and diggers on the new estates to the north of us; the chug of a helicopter taking a casualty to the hospital or the tearing sound of a fighter jet being trialled before export.

So I sit in the sun and inhale the scents of our shed: coriander for curries and cookery, lavender for calm.  Life will go on.

Picture perfect pelargoniums

I have spent many happy hours browsing the greenhouse advertisements in the RHS magazine The Garden.  It was an occasion for grateful thanks for our Hartley greenhouse bought at third hand from an allotment neighbour, assembled from bits and home to our indoor grapevine.  We left it up and intact, I do hope our successors are treating it well. 

Greeenhouse advertisements, to my mind, are something like the dream kitchens and conservatory spreads you find in glossy magazines.  The whole lifestyle is temptingly on view.  The premise being: instal this kitchen and all this affluence and luxury can be yours.  Alternatively  if you really desire a stout greenhouse  (as opposed to a solid oak Victorian replica) you could erect this one and hire some chaps to sit on the roof.  See, advertising does work - I have remembered the picture though not the brand name. 

As far as I am concerned I already have my ideal kitchen.  It was probably put in twenty years ago, but it has all the features I need.  Likewise I realise that I have the typical aspirational greenhouse at a fraction of a price.  Our new greenhouse is filled with the geraniums/pelargoniums that were part of our summer bedding display and are now overwintering.  Not a few of these were rescued from the remaindered shelves of the garden centre but are now getting healthy and strong.  We have the picture perfect greenhouse.

Patching pavers, painting walls, putting up shelves ...

When we first arrived up here in the north west, we did have the occasional speculative visit from driveway companies.  The state of our cracked pavers prompted them to offer their services which were quickly and politely declined.  We have called in craftsmen where necessary but this was one job my husband wanted to do himself.  So after a lot of careful moving and levering of the really badly damaged ones we now have a front driveway which does not invite comment and a bed for some strawberries from my sister's in a sheltered position by the hedge. 

Spurred on by his success my husband tackled the back patio and levered out two pavers close to the fence (this was fine with our neighbours).  Into this space have gone the two clematis plants we 'rescued' from the stranglehold of our clematis 'Broughton Star'.  'Belle of Woking' and another unnamed cultivar have bedded in well and are putting on new growth in the September sun.

The nights are getting more chilly, however, so that was my cue to remove the dwarf french beans.  Off to the DIY superstore for some fence paint and after priming it we now have a lovely shiny white wall along our right hand boundary.  We hope to put leeks in this sheltered spot next year.

Inside we prefer to leave it to the professionals.  We did paint our newly plasterboarded garage, as our plasterer pointed out, it is a garage, after all is said and done, but we will not be touching the house.  After clearing preparatory for painting, some superflous shelving has found its way to the shed.  The spirit of allotmenteering is not dead, and my husband is a happy man. 

Repositioning our raspberries

I feel that something of an apology is in order for some of our soft fruit. 

When we purchased our bunch of bare rooted raspberries and our three blackcurrant bushes I should have paused to consider where to position them.  Deep down I knew that I had bought too many raspberries.  After we had placed the best ones in a healthy spot, my dear husband duly dug holes close to a profuse flowering perennial known as crocosmia (Monbretia) at that stage in its dormant phase and in a somewhat shady small bed bordering our back dining room for the rest.   

The crocosmia stifled the raspberries and four out of five survived in a thin and leggy state (I seem to remember the technical term is etiolated).  I joked that at least any berries were concealed from the pigeons.  My husband determined to dig up and donate the croscosmia corms.  They have now found another home.

The blackcurrants also suffered.  Their leaves curled and distorted as they were attacked by aphids and they bore very little fruit.  One of them has been moved now and as soon as it is appropriate the other will go to join it in a better position.  I think a selective pruning is also appropriate.

The raspberries are still in the same place but repositioned against a cleared fence along with some delphiniums that were being crowded by our 'star' clematis.  The two other rescued clematis have joined them a little further along the fence.  Of which more later.

A 'cottage garden effect', dear readers, is not achieved by shoving surplus plants into unsuitable places, but, however artless it seems, is the result of centuries of experience and careful thought. 

Success stories with climbers

As the summer progresses we have learned something about the clematis in our back garden.  Named after a local village, it is a 'star' but a one than can easily strangle others.  Cutting it back towards our boundary fence my husband has discovered two other varieties of clematis struggling to express themselves, a pink rose, a white delphinium and a red rose that has almost given up the fight.  This vigorous climber has been reduced and (fingers crossed) is now going to be guided in an appropriate direction towards the back boundary and wildlife hedge.  Moral: control impulse buying and keep borders uncrowded.

A climber we have keenly nurtured is the honeysuckle we brought here from a cutting on our allotment.  This was a cultivated variety, a present from friends.  At last it is beginning to make its way up the trellis we provided for it.  No flowers this season, but at least it is established.

The Morning Glory I grew from seed, an annual that is only a few steps away from the weed convolvulus, has put on growth and found the trellis too.  However, it is not a permanent competitor and its pastel pink and purple flowers brighten up a corner that enjoys morning sun.

Our jasmine, my sister's rescue plant that I mentioned in a recent post is still doing well next to the porch.

Our most recent purchase came from the largest garden centre in the region, seven miles or so up the road.  No rescue job here, but the full price for another jasmine to grow up a newly painted trellis (thanks again to my sister) behind the shed.   It's a variety that brings back happy memories and a fitting fifty ninth birthday present.

Solar Gain (s)

Well, I think that is what she said.  L is a biology teacher and we were describing to her how we had positioned our winter squash in large containers under our bay window.  The front of our house faces south and west and the sun's heat soaks into the brickwork, to the benefit of our plants.  It seems to be working; our winter squash are courgette sized and very tasty.  If we can refrain from harvesting all of them now some may mature to the full size we knew in the south. 

Another plant benefitting from the rays is our jasmine.  This is about to flower for the first time.  A 'rescue' plant, this time from my sister, it came down to the south east, spent some time on the allotment and moved up here to our shed where it wasn't doing very much.  We repotted it again and put it outside at the back.  Lots of leaves but no flowers.  We relocated it to the front by the porch and now for the first time it is about to flower. 

Our final 'convalescent' group in need of sunshine were potted up this afternoon.  We bought six large geraniums on 'yellow sticker' to complement our tubs of summer bedding.  I hope there is enough of our northern summer left for them to pull back.

A wren in the greenhouse

My usual reaction to a bird trapped in the greenhouse is slight panic.  It must have flown in through a door or open window.  How shall I usher it out to safety?  Indeed, on a smaller scale, I spend time nearly every day trying to persuade winged creatures - moths, wasps, flies - through open windows into the garden. 

But the wren is different.  Our greenhouse was erected on paving stones in front of our wildlife hedge and slopes along one edge.  The wren, the smallest of our garden birds, has found an entry point where the frame does not quite meet the ground. 

Once in the greenhouse the wren occupies itself among our potted tomato plants or flies down to the floor.  I hope it is eating the ants that have nested underneath the pavers, the ones we have decided not to poison.  Satisfied after this tour of inspection our wren exits safely and either makes for the hedge or inspects the gap formed where preserved wooden timbers raise the base of our potting shed above the damp flags.   

Blades of grass

One of my best charity shop buys recently has been a French tapestry kit 'Le Marais' (The Marsh).  It was on sale for £2.50 having been started and then abandoned by a person who, I guess, reckoned that the 38 hours estimated to complete it were insufficient.  I took it to my craft group last month and one of the members suggested that the colours such as blue, turquoise, black, white, russet and green could have been what attracted the eye of the beholder.  
My tapestry depicts a marsh at night with bullrushes waving in the breeze and wildfowl flying across the face of the full moon.

As I started to work on it I realised that of course this is a representation, an interpretation and is closer to a painting than a photograph.  None of these lovely strong colours would show up in reality.  The moonlight would bleach them all to shades of grey.  And yet, since I bought it I have been looking more closely at the reeds and the grasses of Lancashire's estuaries.   And I conclude that whoever designed my tapestry and whoever translated it to a screen print on canvas have spent a long time looking at the saltmarsh, how coarse grasses colonise in clumps as the sea recedes, how blades grow from the stem and wave and cross each other in the wind.

Blown on the wind...

Sitting in the garden shed yesterday evening I was enjoying the sounds of the woodland birds and yet unable to 'tune out' the noise of traffic which reverberates across our suburb as two of our regional motorways meet just over a mile away.  When either the wind drops completely, or blows from that quarter then from out of the unvarying rush-hour rumble I can distinguish motorcycles accelerating, heavy lorries passing and sometimes also the clack of the train on the West Coast Mainline.  I was struck by the duration and monotony of human-generated noise and its contrast with birdsong.

Birdsong is woven into an aural, dimensional tapestry.  Finches sing from high trees, housemartins cry as they wheel in the air.  Sparrows chirp in the middle spaces of the hedge, blackbirds position themselves on vantage points to signal their territories.  Doves and woodpigeons prefer to coo from the chimney pots and magpies announce themselves in the birches with harsh cries.   This pattern and spacing is dotted across the backgardens of our avenue and into the park. 

Every bird has a song of a different duration.  I have timed the finch and he sings a short snatch every 10 to 12 seconds, which although repetitious is not annoying.   Birdsong, unlike traffic, is produced at a volume pleasing to the human ear, there is variation and harmony and to this untutored listener who wonders what key they are using, there appear no discords. 

Aviary without walls

Birds do not spend all their lives searching for food.  I have discovered this by observation - watching the collared doves and the blackbirds.  This week, for example 'Mrs Beaky' the female blackbird was sunbathing on the rear patio.  She flew down, settled herself and preened, spreading her wings open in the sun.  It seemed to me to be a vulnerable position, but she was close to the hedge and seemed relaxed enough.

The collared doves like to stay together.  They sit down on the concrete wall which is wide enough for them to perch, but of sufficient height for them to keep a beady eye open.  When they preen they seem to be able to rotate their heads looking completely over their shoulders which is slightly disconcerting to the onlooker. 

The bullfinch sings all evening high up in the birch trees, the blackbirds too sing as evening turns to dusk.  

Protective Hedge

Many of our garden birds have only just begun their nests.  Our blackbirds 'Mr and Mrs Beaky' started in our clematis 'Broughton Star', took up moss from our lawn (we can still see the bare patches) and then abandoned the attempt.  I think they must now be in the high hedge.  This morning I noticed a wren, which also lives in its shade, gathering discarded feathers.  Our cheerful sparrows have done the same.  No takers for our birdbox though, which we moved from the wall outside our kitchen to the rear of the shed.  It is scrubbed, painted and fresh, waiting for takers next year.  Meanwhile I can hear the blue tits in the hedge and the birch trees.

A most intriguing visitor, however, is a field mouse.  Or is it a vole?  This shy creature has decided to make a nest in the crack between two of the pavers close to our greenhouse.  Towards the end of the afternoon we have seen it dragging leaves down there and then popping up again and scuttling into the shelter of the hedge.  I hope it is harmless and feeds on berries and nuts as the reference books suggest.

Amorous wood pigeons are billing and cooing on our fence. 

The only birds to which my charity does not extend are the magpies.  Whenever I hear the blackbirds' alarm call I stand on the back step and clap my hands to scatter them.

Summer bedding on a budget

I was weeding our front patio this afternoon when I remembered that I had once blogged on a gardening job to the effect that 'weeds are nature's alpines'.  It would be about a year ago, as I prised hairy bittercress and other annual weeds from between the cracks.  A year on, and I was carrying out the same actions in our own front garden.

However, I am glad to say that we do now have alpines, thanks to a well known family owned northern supermarket chain who discounted a selection on 'yellow sticker' (half price).  They were fine, I assured my husband, they just needed nursing back into health. I came home with a yellow potentilla, a dianthus (a smaller one to substitute for the nice one we potted on for my sister), a sea pink, another saxifrage and two sempervivum.  These latter like dry, stony conditions - perhaps not the optimum choice for our front bed. 

After that I went back for the mimulus at 50p.  My husband managed to salvage five out of six and they are now establishing themselves.

Today we went to a national chain where I get pensioners' discount on Tuesdays.  Purple petunias were purchased on orange sticker, under pressure from me, I must confess.  I did confess and make up.  My long-suffering husband dead-headed, discarded and planted the best of the survivors among what remains of our winter pansies.  It  looks if they have always been there.  Now we wait for them to flower again.

Sparrows

I used to be concerned when I saw birds on our blackcurrant bushes.  My first suspicion is that they are looking for a free meal.  But now I am less worried.  One of our blackcurrants has an aphid infestation and the sparrows are feeding, not on immature green fruit but on immature greenfly.

In the warm south aphids are consumed by ladybirds.  I used to gather up these little spotted helpers carefully, deposit them on our runner beans and let them feed and reproduce.  Up north, I cannot recollect seeing a single ladybird this season.  Here the sparrows are doing the job for us, picking off the greenfly with deft beak movements, hopping lightly from branch to branch.  They cause no damage, they only stay for a moment, close to our french windows, and then fly away.


   

Coming up roses ...

When we lived in the south east, we promised ourselves we would grow roses for cut flowers.  We achieved this after a fashion with the wild rose that formed the wildlife arch, and the red rambling rose we disentangled when the council cut down the vegetation to replace our wire mesh allotment boundary fence.  But despite our good intentions we never grafted anything on to the stock we had.  Each year the wild rose flowered briefly and then its petals fell and gave place to rosehips for the birds.  The rambler needed sustained attention that we were not able to give.

We moved north and found that the rosy picture of our front garden was indeed true.  To the right of the porch there was a rose on a strong trellis.  No need to constuct one of those then from canes and odd bits of wire, no call for a budding knife and sticky tape.  My husband pronounced the rose healthy and pruned hard at the appropriate time.

Now our yellow rose is thriving.  New shoots are coming up from its base.  It appears to have no black spot or canker and is minimally afflected with greenfly, possibly because of the cool conditions here.  Sheltered by the house it is now blooming. 

We picked just a few roses for the house, ones that might have been damaged by the persistent wind and discovered their scent.  They are in a crystal vase that once belonged to my parents.  The fragrance fills our back room, our den. 

So many poets have responded to roses.  If you want to read one of the masters, find Shakespeare's Sonnet 23.  Meanwhile I shall watch our roses bud, bloom and fade all the summer long.

A plea for pollinators

I return, without apologies, to our need for bees.  Up here it has been cool and breezy for several weeks and the cherry blossoms at the entry to our avenue have shed pink snowy petals into the gutters.  Our apples, which in the south east would have been three weeks earlier than this are at last apple blossom white.  Our rhododendron by the front gate looks spectacular.  The bees, and other pollinators are favouring it. 

Haven't you noticed, I ask these little six legged friends, that it's time to move to the back garden and start on our trees?  I look back to our allotment and remember how on warm spring days our damson tree was covered in pollinators of all kinds.  The weather was so still that you could hear the low murmur of bees about their business.  Though tossed about by arbitrary gusts, I would at least have hoped that bumblebees, with their superior aerodynamic skills would have found their way to our lawn. 

So far I have seen a handful of bees on our trees.  Admittedly one busy bee can do the work of two or three.  Come on invertebrates, there is sufficient blossom here for bees, bumble bees, hoverflies or even wasps.  And then could you start on the broad beans, please?

Garden Happiness - Tips from Titchmarsh

I'm glad to have confirmation that we are doing the right things, especially when Gardeners' World pundit Alan Titchmarsh draws up the list.

Number one in his article on garden happiness (March 2014) is plant a tree for interest and wildlife. There are no opened buds yet on our apples but plenty of perching birds.  The insectivore bluetits are fine: however I shall be chasing away the finches with their predeliction for fruit buds.

Second on the list is sow some seeds.  Been there, done that.  And the petunias in the potting shed are germinating as are the Morning Glory seeds.  Very happy.

Third is get moving.  I leave the heavy stuff to my husband nowadays.  The photo shows Alan raking the mossy thatch from his extensive lawn.  My husband has been over our pocket-handkerchief sized lawn at least three times. 

Fourth is pass on your knowledge.   This evokes memories of happy times with M.  Will we repeat these educational experiences with others?  I wait and see.

Fifth is grow something great to eat.  Germination is slow up here.  In the warmth of the greenhouse our 'charity shop' french beans are coming up, but it is still far too cold to plant them out.

Last on the list is visit a garden.  It is a long drive to the formal gardens of Cheshire, so in the meantime civic parks and country parks must suffice.

Thank you, Alan, and good gardening to you too.

Buying fruit to crop in the first year

One of our neighbours has given us some back copies of Gardeners' World and I was interest to read an article in the February 2013 issue entitled Fast Fruit.  In our experience fruit is not usually 'fast' but I was gratified to find that we had followed the advice in this piece without knowing it:

• Choose pot grown apples.  Ours were quite expensive and came in large pots.  Both are now ready to come into blossom.  It's cold up here so I hope they don't opening out during another early frost. 
• Don't prune your blackcurrants after planting.  We didn't.  These also are now beginning to flower and I am happy to see that we bought one variety the article recommends - 'Ben Connan'.
• Buy summer fruiting raspberries as long canes.  Well, they weren't exactly long, but long enough to have buds which are now beginning to develop.  Both raspberries and blackcurrants get sun for some periods of the day.
• Strawberries.  We thought about these and didn't buy any in the end.  However, the ornamental small strawberries that grew in the border we turned into a veg patch are beginning to reappear and should look decorative if not tasty.

There's plenty of food for thought in this magazine, so maybe I'll be inspired to begin a mini-series - salads all year round or pot grown vegetables might be my next choices.

Petunias

When we lived in the south, petunias were the kind of bedding plant that pleased our customers.  We would rush into a superstore on the way to a job (lateness is usually my fault) and load up with general purpose compost and trays of sweetly smelling, pink, purple and white petunias.  Then it was out with the pansies - the winter bedding - and in with the petunias.

Up here, the winter pansies are doing fine as the April sun finally warms their south-facing bed.  I guess that if my husband keeps dead-heading them regularly they are good for at least another month yet.  As for the petunias, well I am having a go. 

We have acquired several packets of saved seed and commercial seed from a friend whose late mother was a great gardening enthusiast.  She collected them from her monthly magazine, but in her latter years was too infirm to do much.  The petunia packets had a 'sow by' date of 2010.  Now that is a challenge.  

Regardless, I sowed these almost microscopic seeds in a fine moist compost inside our new potting shed where, at the warmest point today, the thermometer showed 80 degrees F.  It is predicted to drop to just below freezing tonight.  Then I covered them with cling film for humidity.  The packet says that germination can take from 14 to 21 days.  I also sowed Morning Glory (2015) seeds; some coleus (same age as the petunia seed) and some of our saved french beans from the allotment.

We could afford bedding plants ourselves.  But as we have the leisure to concentrate on our small 'plot' we are beginning to focus on doing things well on a small scale.  And if the petunias should fail I still have plenty of common or kitchen garden pot marigolds.

Shrubbery (replacement) Project

Walking around our park one evening after supper we noticed that in a minor act of vandalism some person had torn off and then dropped a flowering branch from one of the forsythia bushes.  I took this home and put it in a vase with some daffodils.

It got us thinking.  When we moved here and established our kitchen garden my husband removed a lilac, an unspecified tree and a forsythia bush of which our neighbour was rather fond.  With hindsight we could have taken hardwood or root cuttings.  Never mind.  Once again we supported our local agricultural college and last Saturday took our place in the queue behind two loaded trolleys. A young student, under supervision, was learning to operate the till.  We bought two at £4.50 each.  Then on up the A6 for the charity shops, but that is another story...

On our return my husband removed another (smallish) dead leyland cypress from our perimeter and created two planting holes, filled with a mixture of leaf mulch and compost.  In among the barbed wire went two forsythia bushes with healthy roots. 

These bushes are small at the moment, but I know from previous experience that they can do well and grow quickly.  Next year we hope to remove another dead cypress and put in two more.  I see in my mind's eye a springtime screen of yellow forsythia waving in the dappled shade, while local residents enjoy the park.


 

Shrubbery (removal) Project

It is almost five months since we left our gardening round in the south, but this week saw us in a familiar pose, my husband up a ladder with a tree saw and myself balancing it at the foot.  We were there with the permission of our neighbour to trim overgrown shrubs and hawthorn branches along our boundary which in part comprises his hedge and our garage.  This is a precaution to avoid blocked garage gutters and also preliminary work in the event of our garage needing repairs.

It seemed strange to be doing for ourselves the kind of task we had so often been set by others.  The technique however was the same: the cutting of an access area into our neighbour's shrubs with the minimum of damage but sufficient to allow the safe balancing of the ladder; the selection of the correct branches by my husband and the hauling of said branches out of the foliage to be caught by me.  Then it was the long process of cutting them into bits with the loppers and wedging all the green garden waste into the brown bin.

When we had finished we trimmed around the border and raked up leaves from the lawn. 

The nesting blue tit that came by with a beak full of mossy material can now return to our neighbour's bird box in peace and the sparrows resume their twittering among the holly and privet.

Planting out - northern temperatures

Today I felt it was warm enough to plant out our broad beans.  They had been taken out of the greenhouse, sheltered in large terracotta pots for a week or so and now it was time to test them in our new raised beds.  My husband kindly raked these over for me, remarking that manure and compost seem to disappear in a clay soil like ours.

We got about fifty per cent germination success on these beans.  Never mind.  We don't have twenty five square metres times three in allotment space so the beans, properly spaced were sufficient to fill two of our raised beds.  Now I was in the mood for sowing.  So I intersowed radish (saved seed) with the beans, beet spinach in the next raised bed and pot marigolds in little pockets around the kitchen garden area. 

On to the potting shed, where I sowed a packet of dwarf french beans we found in the charity shop today for 75p.  Rather a lot in the packet.  We may be swimming in french beans later this year.  Maybe not, they were old seed to be used by December 2015.  This is worth a try.  Even fifty per cent would be good.

Tomorrow it's on to ruby chard in the next raised bed and observing how the lettuce and rocket that have been taken out of the greenhouse manage the night on the patio.  The golden oregano, a burgeoning but tender herb, goes back inside.

Shrubbery Extension Project

When the tree on our boundary was taken down it left light and space in our garden and large piles of woodchip in the park on the other side.  I  decided to rename this area our 'shrubbery extension project' and last week went out with a rake to distribute the woodchippings more evenly.  I wanted to deter the use of the area beyond our hedge as a 'doggy toilet', reckoning that if it looked tidy and smelled of leyland cypress that would be a good start.  I then 'pruned' the pollarded elderberries that had suffered slight damage during the felling, picked up a few old drinks cans and bits of plastic and finally went along our own leyland cypresses taking out protruding branches at eye level, and other untidy bits.  All the cuttings are now in a neat pile just beyond our boundary which I hope will encourage beneficial invetebrate life.

I really wanted to carry on litter-picking beyond our hedge, but this is not my job.  There is a residents' association for this park and the council sweep up as and when needed.  I hope that the ground cover returns, trampled celandines will spread, the elderberries and pollarded birches recover and the birds that are getting ready to nest in our hedge will find our 'shrubbery extension' a happy hunting ground.

Rocket (Eruca sativa) Science?

I read in this April's issue of the RHS magazine that seeds of my favourite salad leaf are being sent into space and later returned to earth.  These will then be distributed to schools, sown and compared with seeds that have not previously spent six months orbiting the earth.  It is hoped that this will aid attempts to grow food in space.

I have confined my experiments with rocket to the back garden, greenhouse and shed.  Will the leftover seeds that I scattered on the flowerbeds after dehusking germinate, or will they be eaten by the hedge sparrows?  Will the packet seed I sowed in the potting seed come up before the saved seed from the allotment that is now in the greenhouse?  Will rocket under glass in seed trays do better than rocket sparsely sown amid the cos lettuce seedlings that I pricked out in the warmth of the greenhouse yesterday?

I do not need a micro-enviroment with zero gravity.  I have a new greenhouse with doors that lock but no airlock.  I have no hydroponics, just two bags of compost, sieved and sorted into seed trays by my husband and a selection of watering cans; no heating and lighting except the heat and light of the sun that rises in the east and shines at its zenith on shed and glasshouse. 

Growing salads - it's not rocket science.

Changing views

I have managed to import a new picture for my blog.  This is our back garden in February 2015 as it waits for the spring.  All the tender stuff is in our potting shed.  (We have moved some plants around since this photo was taken.)  Here are the geraniums that belonged to the previous owner that we are overwintering.  Next to them is the jasmine that my sister rescued from a supermarket (I am not the only one in our family to do this).  Then comes the lettuce.  This seed came out of a partially used packet that I bought in a pound shops last year.  Given that it was old and cheap it has done better than I expected under shelter and I live in hopes of filling growbags in our new greenhouse (due a week today).  Next, we have the broad beans that were a housewarming present which, as I noted yesterday, are sprouting at last after nearly six weeks and finally the golden oregano. 

The new herbs in the low wall that I am trying outside are sage, golden thyme, thyme and mint.  Still to sow in warmer conditions than at present come flat leaved parsley, basil, more thyme and garlic chives.

If you were to stand with your back to the shed, facing up the garden, you would see an expanse of flags where once we had a lean-to porch.  The structure came down this week with the help of our builder D and his apprentice and has been repaved.  At the moment is is empty space, but in my imagination I see our patio area filled with tubs of flowering plants and miniature vegetables.  I can also visualize my husband's outdoor tomatoes along the sunny side of our yet-to-be delivered greenhouse. 

I will keep this summery view in my mind's eye, even as D, in the rain, adds the finishing touches to our refurbished patio.

Changing the picture

I note from my diary that we sowed broad beans under cover in our old shed on 31st January 2015.  This week, sheltered in our new potting shed they began to sprout.  The time elapsed signifies that we are now in the cool north west rather than the warm south. 

Our lovely golden oregano, which used to feature on this page, bought in Cheshire over ten years ago did not survive the transition and we had to buy and pot on a new one.  It did not come out of the new potting shed until today and is in a warm spot on our back patio.  It may go back inside if the weather threatens frost.

Outside in our front garden the Iris Reticulata which were a housewarming present from LK are just beginning to show their tightly furled pointed spears.  Saved on my phone is a picture of the allotment with the same irises in full flower.  It is dated 10th February 2014. 

Moving up here has not always been an easy transition.  Maybe it is time to change the picture.

Roses, Raspberry Canes, Rhubarb

We have exchanged three allotments for one back garden.  This has made us plan carefully.  You can spread yourself over 3 x 25 rods' worth of ground, leave beds fallow, try out things that never stood an earthly chance - Florence fennel, cauliflowers, or neglect persisting problems.   But tending your own backyard and spending your own money brings a different perspective.

Last week we purchased raspberry canes and rhubard from Myerscough College's plant shop.  In order to fit in the canes, which came to ten when unbundled, we had to take out two climbing roses.  We were ruthless.  These had very little sign of new growth, whereas the rose by our front door, in its sheltered spot, is already budding. 

The canes were planted in the sunniest spaces we could find to the correct depth according to the instructions on the label.  The first time we came into possession of surplus raspberries I put them in deep in an exposed allotment bed under the mistaken impression that this would help them.  It didn't.

That left the rhubarb.  Our allotment rhubarb found itself in its proper spot on our second attempt, after languishing in a windy space for a season.  Our new rhubarb went straight into a sheltered nook next to our shed, protected on two sides by shed and shrubs and also with plenty of sun. 

Our 'herbacious border' raspberries are now standing up to the hail, sleet and occasional flurries of snow that characterise early March in the north west.  Underneath, I noticed as we put them in, they were just starting to form their new growth.  Like our blackcurrants and cooking apple they are Scottish, which is probably no bad thing.

Pitching In

An exchange of emails and a phone call led to our visit to the county's mounted police headquarters in search of free manure.

This was our second attempt; we had tried the local agricultural college who teach Equine Studies.  They recommended a firm at Lytham selling it for a pound a bag, but as former allotmenteers we still have the mindset: could we source this for free?  It was gratis, as much as we could take we were told but in this case we will make a suitable donation to the Lancashire Air Ambulance, whose yellow helicopter we frequently see overhead on its way back to base.

So off we drove to a very quiet, tidy site with one horse padding in circles on what looked like an enclosed exercise carousel, and another leaning his head out to look at us. 

The manure was in a big concrete enclosure, a tidy heap, some straw, but enough of the good stuff for us to fill eight old compost bags.  It was strong and recent, the real raw thing.  We brushed up after ourselves, changed out of our wellies and left happily.

Now our compost is back home arranged on our rear patio area, breaking down slowly and waiting to be mixed with leaves and kitchen waste.  The whole process from fresh to well-rotted will probably take a year.  Some things do not change.

Two trees

This week we went to the largest local garden centre to choose two apple trees for our back garden.  What a difference.  Last time, as resourceful allotmenteers we purchased a Bramley from Woolworths for a tenner and an unspecified 'rescue' tree from a reduced bin in a superstore which turned out to be my lovely Grenadier.  This time, assisted by some garden tokens from my aunt, we went for Discovery (eater) and Scots Bridget a dual purpose eater/cooker.  We spent money.  Not only that, we also purchased the correct compost and took advice.

My husband quickly dug two holes in the lawn and planted them, with some home-made stakes before snow swept the north west.  Now they look as if they have always been there.

Paint Your Fence

The winter in London Essex could prove a challenging time for our small gardening business.  It is no wonder that a builder friend of ours told us it is called 'the kipper season', because men waiting for work sit in their vans amidst cigarette smoke like kippers.  At this season last year I recall one customer asking us to paint her fence.  Now it is time to attend to our own.

In honour of my birthday tea on Saturday my husband has been out painting the fence in a rustic brown.  Our good neighbours who erected it had already covered the other side.  There was not quite enough paint to finish fence and shed, but guests looking out of the patio windows will see that he has made a good start.   

Practice makes perfect. 

Cover Up - Land Drains

My husband's continuing excavation and removal of concrete slabs, as detailed in my last post, came to a sudden end today with the discovery of what we surmise is a land drain.   When the crowbar hit, he knew it was time to leave well alone. 

All the soil on the bed is now back where it was.  After all, we reason, the three beds at the front have deep soil.  We will grow the more shallow rooted stuff at the back.

Allotmenteering is (infrequently) the art of making things disappear when it is  inappropriate to dig everything up.

Crowbar and Concrete Slabs

Our new raised beds, as described in my last post were easy to assemble, once I had rotated the instruction sheet in my hands to match the kit on the ground.  Some people are able to do this in their heads, I am not one of them.

We duly lifted the completed beds and landed them on the lawn close to the spot.  My husband started to dig down - and hit concrete.  Of course, after nearly ten years of allotmenteering we should have anticipated this.  Before the annexe to our house, which comprises the 'new garage', downstairs bathroom and kitchen, was built, it possessed an attractive brick-built garage with its own driveway.  We are not sure if the bricks and concrete we uncovered were the remains of this or some other structure.  But they had to come out.

Initially my husband only dug to the width of the beds we had assembled.  Then we took a fresh look at the ground.  There was space for another three raised beds in parallel with the first.  Which in turn meant digging up the remaining concrete and very probably taking it to be recycled in the hard core area of the tip. 

This morninng we rang the obliging people in Dumfries and ordered another three beds.  As I write, my husband is out with a crowbar levering the offending material out of the ground.

Raised Beds - Recycled

The excitement of this morning has been the arrival of the three raised beds my husband ordered from a recycling company north of the Solway Firth.  This business, Solway Direct, collects surplus farm plastic and converts it into useful agricultural items of many kinds, included our three linked beds.

These are in our garage waiting to be assembled.  This stage will be another test of our joint instruction-decoding ability. In times past we have been known to jest that an additional exercise, which does not find its way on to any marriage preparation courses, should be the challenge of an item of flat-packed furniture, with accompanying instruction leaflet translated from a non-Roman script and printed in a very small point size.   I hasten to add that I do not anticipate any problems with our recent Scots purchase.

It was a happy coincidence that after the invoice arrived yesterday, paid in full, that my husband decided to go outside and bury our compost kitchen waste in a bean trench.  The plan is that the beds will be placed side by side close to the path edge of our kitchen garden and that beans will grow in the space between them and the concrete block wall which divides us from our neighbour.

Why plastic, you may ask after so many years of pallets?  Well, our neighbour on the other side of the wall told us that he was tired of his wooden raised beds rotting away in the wet conditions of the north west.  Also there is another consideration.  An allotment is not literally, on your doorstep.  You can enter the site confident that fellow allotmenteers are unlikely to compete in outdoing one another in their outlay.  Far from it.  However, upon looking out on the garden from the kitchen whilst washing up, or entertaining relatives to afternoon tea, one does wish all parties to receive an overall impression of order, tidiness and substance.

So onwards to planning of rotations, assembly, and building up the soil above the water table.