Damp Day

“It’s been siling down, all day!” I said to the postman as he trundled his trolley up our path.   He looked both wet and amused and said he had never heard this expression before.  So, like all good citizens of this country, we stood under the leaky guttering and swapped rain vocabulary.  ...stair rods... horizontal Scottish weather... drippy and wetty rain...  cats and dogs... spitting and spatting.  It’s all the same, it’s just wet.

According to the oracle (a.k.a. Google) siling comes from the Norwegian dialect: sila.  This is Norwegian or Swedish for strain or filter and there is a suggestion of liquid running quickly through a strainer or filter.  Anyway, my mum used to say it was siling down, and she came from Yorkshire. 

I have mixed feelings about rain.  The last few weeks have been bone dry (here we go again) and every gardener craves rain for it is indeed the stuff of life.  Our grass needs greening up and the borders and the local reservoir, are gasping for water.   I love the romance of rain too.   The gentle sound of the pitter patter on the greenhouse roof when I am toasty and dry inside, makes me feel safe and comforted.  There is nothing like sitting in front of the log fire with a seed catalogue and a mug of hot chocolate and who can ever forget Gene Kelly, in Singing in the Rain?

But days like this are claustrophobic too.  Heavy rain is frustrating and even your underwear gets wet if you happen to be camping.  Rainy days keep you indoors and trapped and I like to be outdoors and free.  I can garden in light rain but not this sort of rain.  Stepping on soggy ground is not good for the soil structure and plays havoc with your hair.

Today, I ventured only briefly to the plot to change the hens’ straw, top up the feed and offer some words of comfort.  The three of them were huddled under their little tarpaulin with their feathers all ruffled.  It has not been a good day for them or the washing.  I changed our bed first thing this morning and the sheets are hanging around in the utility room with nowhere to go because I cannot get them on the line and am too mean and green to put the tumble dryer on.

The forecast says it will be a bit brighter tomorrow.  Now that the water butts are replenished, I hope so.  Then I can go and inspect the damage because I suspect that the slugs will have had a wonderful time gorging themselves on my Little Gems.

Courgettes with Everything

We like courgettes which is a good because they are good do-ers in our garden.  We get excited when the first one is harvested.   I slice the little treasure lengthwise, drizzle over a drop of lemon oil and griddle it on the barbecue.  Delicious!  It is so good we look forward to the next one. 

A week later there are two for the griddle.  One each, what joy!  A few days later there are 3 more and within a couple of months we have lost count.  And that’s the nature of courgettes.  They start slow and gather momentum.   Nothing seems to get in their way.  Slugs leave them alone and even powdery mildew does not seem to affect the harvest.  The result is a gradual (but nonetheless epic) metamorphosis from tiny seeds, to darling sweet plants to monster tryphids.   I give them lots of space in the raised bed but they still try to escape.  The leaves are huge and horribly prickly and soon we have a suburban jungle to maintain with masses of large yellow trumpets warning us that more courgettes are on the way.  We are well practised in the art of resource management and if we were not too busy picking, chopping and griddling them, we would have time to marvel at Mother Nature.

Once, I tentatively suggested to Doc that we could eat just a few of them and put the rest on the compost heap.  He scowled and reminded me that half the world is starving and wasting food is wrong.  He was right and coping with abundance on the plot is all part of the challenge of Growing Our Own. 

Easy Peasy Apples

It may still be August and we are clinging onto summer with the same enthusiasm as a dog with a bone.  But September is just around the corner and the fall has already started.  I don’t mean Springfield is ablaze with orange and red leaves, but there is one tell tale sign.  Windfall apples.   The newly planted fruit trees present no challenge but the older varieties are just too tall to harvest properly (and safely), even with an apple picker on a pole.  So, the apples plummet to the ground, one by one and often in twos and threes.  I dodge them the best I can but yes, I have been attacked by these very effective missiles.

As if injury to my ‘bonce’ is not enough, the apples do need picking up every day, otherwise wasps move in permanently.  Last year was a good year for apples and this task took place over several weeks and this did not suit by back or my easily bored temperament.  I do leave quite a lot of the windfalls in the hedgerows for the wildlife to munch on but I lift those in the orchard.   I do sort them and give the better ones away and we still have some stewed apple in the freezer from last year.   But usually we have enough ‘good’ apples to give away anyway, so I barrow loads of windfalls to the compost heap. 

However, this year the task is not at all tedious or tiring.  A few weeks ago I came across an advertisement for an apple ‘pickerupper’.  (Actually it is called The Apple Wizard.)  Now, usually I avoid gadgets and this one seemed quite pricey at around £60 but the prospect of another aching back for several weeks, was a strong motivation to give it a go.  It looks strange.  There is a rugby ball shaped wire cage on the end of the pole and as you roll it round, the slight pressure opens the cage and the apples are scooped up.  I cannot say that everyone will find this piece of equipment perfect for the job, but it is perfect for the job I do.  I love it to bits and it even seems to cope with uneven terrain – where the rabbits and birds have scratted around.

The Apple Wizard has earned its place in prime position just inside the shed and I call it my apple hoover because that is just what it does.  It hoovers the apples up and when the cage is full I tip them into the barrow and carry on.  This leaves me with lots of energy to do other things.  I only wish other things included sitting on the bench and reading a book.

Sweet Sensation

There is a small window of time when sweetcorn is ready to harvest.  The first sign is that the cobs become swollen and the silky tassels turn brown and dry.  Then when you peel back the layers of protective leaves and press your thumb nail into one of golden kernels, the juice is milky rather than clear.  And from the moment you detach the cobs, the sugar content starts to decrease.  The cobs need to be eaten or frozen immediately to retain the very best flavour.  Leave them sitting around on the plant or in the veg rack and they will turn starchy and lose all their juiciness and flavour.  But catch the crop at its peak of freshness and you will never want a commercially produced cob ever again.....

At last! Carrots!

We harvested our first ever decent bunch of carrots the other day.  It may not be horticulture’s greatest achievement but after several disappointing years, it is a relief and pleasure to smell home grown, earthy carrots.  Unlike those from the supermarket, they actually taste of carrot. 

Carrots are a staple of any vegetable rack so we couldn’t give up trying.  Ironically, we do not have a problem with carrot root fly.  For us, germination has been a challenge, due we think to our cold starts to the season.  I try to sow as many vegetables as possible in modules and keep them warm in the greenhouse or cold frame until the weather improves.  But carrots don’t like being transplanted and last year it took four sowings to get any seeds going and then of course the slugs had to come along and munch half the crop before they could grow into plants.

For those that did survive, we did eventually see substantial fronds developing and they appeared to grow on quite well.  However, when the moment of truth arrived, all we found under the surface of the soil were stumpy forked specimens.  They were virtually unusable in the kitchen. 

This year has been a very different story.  We got serious with carrots!  Doc worked hard to improve the soil in the raised bed.  He removed as many stones as he could but did not add any more compost so that the soil was not too rich - which is apparently one of the causes of forking.  Also, I covered the raised beds with cloches to give the seeds extra protection.  I invested in a soil thermometer and did not dare to sow carrot seeds until the reading was above 10 C.  We waited patiently – carrot seeds can take up to 3 weeks to germinate - but we were rewarded with several rows of green shoots following the first sowing.

I kept the bed completely weed free and used organic slug pellets even though a dry summer has reduced their numbers.  And again, we waited and watched.

Whether it was the different weather factors this year or our improved good husbandry, I don’t know.  But the result is we have some Very Useful Carrots.  We don't feel smug though, we feel very humble.   The supermarket veg may be bland and unappealing but at least it's there.  Growing them ourselves has been hit and miss so we must never take a carrot for granted again.

How do they do that?

I cannot count the number of times I have planted new, inspiring plants only to find that they die,  either immediately or fade away during the winter months, never to be seen again.  I have learned the hard way that it is a good idea to choose the right plant for the right place.  It is not only good for the soul, it is necessary for the purse too.

But what about plants in the garden that grow in the most inhospitable places and despite your lack of attention, just keep on going?

Our ‘back’ door is actually on the East side of the house and there is nothing but the wall of the house, a tall boundary wall and a gravel path.  I keep an attractive hosta in a large container, pots of cyclamen and other bulbs in the spring - and little else.  There is the dustbin, of course, and it is a dark and gloomy place.  There is no soil. Oh, and I almost forgot, there are some orange Californian poppies and a beautiful pink rose......