Desperation

After the rush of Christmas and with a new year knocking on the door, the gardening sap is beginning to rise and I have itchy feet and tingly green fingers.  I want to eat up the remains of the Christmas cake, sort out my seed box and burn off those excess calories outdoors.  I am looking up and down the flower beds for signs of bulbs poking through the soil and scanning shrubs in the hope of finding tight, new buds.  I also want to cut down the autumn fruiting raspberries and harvest the rest of the parsnips.  Oh, I know there is a long way to go yet (the white stuff!) but I just have to have something to look forward to when the shiny baubles and prickly holly wreaths have been put away. 

Yesterday, I headed off down the garden path looking for something inspiring to photograph.  However, to quote my Nanna: “Duck, there’s nowt!”  Currently, the garden is a truly desolate, dreary place.  The ground is as boggy as we have ever known it and the hens will be growing webbed feet soon.  There is not even the slightest sign of vigour, colour or interest.  And, yes, it is still raining and yes, it still gets dark at 4.00 pm in the afternoon.

So back inside the house I washed my gardening fleece and gilet, checked my 2013 vegetable rotation plan for a second time and desperation set in.  Apart from the seasonal poinsettia and cyclamen (both of which I have kept healthy for several weeks now!) the only thing looking at me was the spider plant.

I loathe spider plants.  This one was a mere sprigling in tub of plants given to me as a gift and annoyingly I never seem to be able to consign anything remotely living to the compost heap.  I just had to nurture the spidery element, even though it felt like madness. I think, to be honest, I was hoping my attitude to this popular houseplant, might change.

I should feel nostalgic.  It was one of the first house plants Doc and I acquired and it was probably the first plant I learned how to propagate.  One minute there was a large spidery rosette of stripy green and creamy-yellow foliage and the next there were several spidery babies hanging over the edge of the pot.  I dutifully potted them on, gave some to friends and kept the remainder, who in turn produced their own babies, and so it went on.   I must have grown on a dozen generations of the wretched plant.  They gathered dust, the flowers were so insignificant I nearly missed them and I eventually got very bored indeed.  At one stage, Doc did try to perk up one or two of the spider plants with a natty macramé hanging basket but it did not work.  For me, the spider plant is a boring plant and is in the same stable as boring rubber plants and boring cheese plants.  

Chlorophytum comosum, is possibly the most popular house plant of all time and true, it does have advantages.  It is very good at purifying the air in the home by removing toxins and it can tolerate full sun or part shade. A spider plant even dislikes being watered, likes its roots restricted in a small pot and can withstand low temperatures, eg during the night when the heating goes off.   But all this does not make me love it, even if it is one of the few healthy, living things around me at the moment.

I am wondering if the best place for the spider plant is in a seasonal arrangement.  Maybe I should combine it with some ivy and some colourful spring bulbs.  Maybe the spider plant is all about textural interest rather than horticultural prowess and I need to use it more creatively.  Can anyone out there convince me it is worth loving?  Otherwise I may just have to bite the bullet and creatively put it to good use - in the compost heap where it perhaps can do some good.  

Keep going, it's nearly Christmas

A friend said to me the other day that we are nearer to spring than we were in September.  I think it was her way of cheering up a gardening buddy.  However, we are actually nearer to Christmas than spring and I am still not ‘done’, if you know what I mean.  No sooner have I ticked off six items from the top of the To Do list, than another few items appear at the bottom.

I am a really organised person and friends and family think that I have already got my Brussels sprouts simmering away on the Aga.  But, I only ever reach Christmas by the skin of my teeth and I am usually panting as I stagger over the finishing line.  I don’t listen to the 'Festival of 9 carols and lessons' from from Kings College, Cambridge, with joy, but with utter relief. If by Christmas Eve I don’t have everything, then it is too late.  I close the drawbridge, put on a pot of mulled wine and we manage with what we have - which is usually enough to last two Christmasses!

So talking of Brussels sprouts, there always seems to be such a fuss about these ‘little cabbages’ of loveliness.  We have sprouts every winter, always at Christmas, and no-one in our family has ever complained or ridiculed this vegetable.  In fact, if Doc and I could grow brassicas easily, they would be second on the list after red cabbage.  Not only are they delicious but I love the idea of picking our very own harvest for Christmas lunch.

People say Brussels are bitter, boring and they hate the smell wafting from the saucepan.  Perhaps that is because they cook them to within an inch of becoming a puree?  I don’t put my sprouts on in November for the simple reason they simmer for a few minutes whilst I am dishing up the dinner.  And you don’t have to bother putting any criss-cross cuts in the base of sprouts because that lets in more water and they go very soggy.  Sprouts should be firm and in our family the dividing line between ‘just cooked’ and ‘dangerous ‘ (ie attempts at stabbing one with a fork results in missile fire) is a fine one.

You can spruce up a Brussels with sautéed pancetta or bacon, shallots or herbs.  I am told lemon or even chestnuts are nice with them.  Personally, I just simmer them lightly and good gravy does the rest.  However, I have shredded them and stir-fried them with other left over veg and that was tasty.  They do have an affinity with Chinese or Thai flavours. 

So, for me the challenge is to source our sprouts from the vegetable garden rather than the greengrocers.  This is what we will have to achieve:

• Sow the Brussels Sprout seed in modules in April and plant out in May.
• The soil needs to be high in nitrogen and limed.
• Sprouts need a sheltered spot as they can suffer from wind rock.
• Plants need to be really firmed in, with a wellington boot.
• They need 5-6 months of growing time, with extra nitrogen feed to prevent the sprouts 
   from ‘blowing’.
• They also need netting – permanently.  Cabbage white butterflies and pigeons are the   
   two most common pests.

We have got our work cut out if we are going to achieve all of the above.  We have acidic conditions and the raised beds are not firm enough for the brassica family to grow well.  However, IF Doc starts work on our new dedicated fruit cage next spring, we could move some fruit bushes and use that bed for brassicas! 

I feel exhausted thinking about it all.  Maybe I am Christmas weary and my energy levels are flagging.  I will feel better when I have heard the Kings College choir sing the carols.  By the time the first snowdrop appears, I will have found my mojo again and be raring to go on the plot.

Pots and Pots of Pots

When we moved to Springfield nine years ago, Doc was unhappy about packing several boxes of plastic plant pots to bring with us.  The removal men didn’t look much happier.  When we arrived and started to unpack, they found a coal bunker under a large rhodendron.  Doc thought it would be a useful, albeit temporary, home for the plant pots.  However, when he fought his way into the bunker, it was full – of plant pots left behind by the previous owners!  He was ready to send the removal men off to the council tip but since the plant pots were brand new and square (a very economical use of space on greenhouse staging!) I insisted we add them to our already large collection.  I have still only managed to use a quarter of them.

Every gardener knows that plant pots breed at an alarming rate and that is because we encourage them.  We buy a plant in a snazzy pink pot and think that the pot will be very useful in the future, when we find something to put in it, which of course we never do.  We are told to be thrifty and re-cycle everything in the garden but the trouble is you cannot put plant pots on the compost heap.  They gather spiders in the shed, the greenhouse and of course, our coal bunker.  They are definitely not an endangered species.

So this year was the year of the plant pot cull because we had reached the point when something had to be done.  I tipped out the small flimsies that come from the garden centre and there were several stacks of pots which were cracked, bent or chipped.  The tall thin pots which are home to young clematis were also sent to the great pot cemetery as were those shallow pots that don’t allow for any root growth. 

The large bucket size pots were much too valuable to throw away.  I use those to line decorative terracotta pots because this cuts down on the watering I have to do.  Clay pots are very nostalgic so I arranged those on a shelf in the shed - not that I use them very much because they are small and need frequent watering.  (I suppose I keep them because they represent the sort of gardener I would like to be, with a dainty collection of auriculars and a theatre on which to display them.  This is a fantasy of course because I don’t have time to potter with such frivolities.  There are veggies to grow for dinner!)

Doc asked me if I had washed any of the pots and I am afraid this task never reaches the top of priorities.  If we had the equivalent of a dishwasher in the shed, I might consider it but life is too busy on the plot for such chores and I don’t have a ‘pot boy or girl’ to help me.  If a pot is infested with greenfly I swill it out with water and put it into quarantine - in a pot behind the greenhouse.  Should there be anything remotely resembling a vine weevil in a pot, I put it in the dustbin.  However, I do often leave pots to sunbathe on the edges of the raised beds.  I don’t know if the heat treatment kills beasties and nasties, but this is my theory anyway.
 
I did a couple of hours volunteering at a local special school yesterday and our leader suggested that it would be very useful if we could tidy up their boxes of pots and throw out the broken ones......  All I can say is that tidying pots in the polytunnel was preferable to working outside in the cold and at least I was recently practised at the task.  She also suggested that maybe we could label the shelves with the sizes of pots so the children could learn about volumes.  Oh dear, I was a bit rusty on how to ‘size’ a pot.  I can identify a litre pot but that’s about it.  I tend to pick one up which looks right, don’t you?  In the end, we agreed that the labels were best left as small, medium and large.....

Despite Doc’s chuntering about the State Of The Pots, he has come up with a very useful way of up-cycling plant pots.  When he planted the new damson tree he had forgotten to buy a plant guard to keep the rabbits off the bark.  He very cleverly removed the bottom of a tall plant pot, trimmed the plastic and then curled it round into a collar which fits perfectly around the tree.   Secured with plastic wire, it cost us nothing and seems to be working. 

Doc has produced a range of sizes and is looking around the garden for other trees and shrubs which may need protection.  However, I doubt we need 436 tree collars, which is probably the number of pots in our shed, greenhouse and coal bunker.  My cull was not as effective as the tree collar.

Thank you Emily

Just as I am lamenting about the dearth of fresh produce this autumn compared with other years, my lovely neighbour, Emily, brings a huge bag of apples from her trees.  They are not pretty, many of the fruits have scab and all are much smaller than usual.  But since we have had no more than a handful of our own apples this year, they are very welcome indeed.  When Doc came home from work and smelled apple and cinnamon crumble, Emily was flavour of the week!  If she had not already toddled off home, he would have danced a 'Strictly' number with her......

There were a few Bramleys in the bag which are of course the King (why not Queen?) of cooking apples and these are always on top of my list for baking.  The rest of the apples were Arthur Turner cooking apples which is also an older variety.  This is a heavy cropping apple and it makes a good sauce.  It is a also a good baking apple and cooks down to a soft, richly flavoured puree.  The ripe fruits do not keep well but they can picked from September through to November.  They look attractive too, with blushing pink-brown highlights over the green skin.

Arthur Turner was raised by Charles Turner of Slough. Interestingly, in 1912, when this tree was called Turner's Prolific, it won an Award of Garden Merit for its flowers alone. It was renamed Arthur Turner in 1915, after a relative who sadly died in the first World War.

The fact that Emily's north-facing garden has produced a better crop of apples than our south-west facing orchard, is also interesting.  I think it is because we grow different varieties which flower at different times.  If a tree flowers and then it rains, the bees cannot pollenate the trees as efficiently.  If there are frosts then the fruits cannot set either.  

So, if you are planning to grow apples, it is a good idea to grow as many different varieties as you can.  Trained cordons, espaliers and fans enable you to grow lots of different apples, very compactly.  You also ensure a steady supply of fruits with some apples which can be eaten now and others which will store right through to spring.  We have a row of ten, young cordons along the trellis of Mr Macgregors garden.  Doc has trained them very successfully but the last two cold winters and this awful summer have slowed down their progress.  We are hoping they will come to fruition next season!

Notes from the Kitchen

Autumn is when we start harvesting the leeks and they are a stalwart of our vegetable garden.  They are easy to grow, they stand well during the winter and they are incredibly versatile in the kitchen.

This year the leek bed looks a tatty and the foliage has deteriorated further since this photograph was taken.  It has not been the best of years for veggies but the leeks have delivered and the large bag of them in the fridge shows that you should never judge a book by its cover.  Underneath the layers of unappealing wrappings, there are thick, green and white, juicy stems of gorgeousness!

Doc harvested more than a dozen, cleaned them up and popped them in a polythene bag in the bottom of the fridge.  They will keep like that for up to a fortnight and they are more even more versatile than the humble onion.  They have a milder onion flavour, with a hint of aromatic sweetness and they look very attractive.

Leek and potato soup is always a favourite.  Chopped leeks and potatoes, good stock and milk, seasoning, chopped thyme.  Simmer.  Liquidise.  Fantastically simple.  (Doc likes a swirl of cream, well he would, wouldn’t he?)

Leeks sautéed with diced bacon is a marriage made in heaven.  Drown them in thick, cheese sauce, topped with breadcrumbs and yet more cheese and you have a sure winner.  Sometime I throw in a canned sweetcorn too.  (Saliva activated at this point!)

Add leeks to risotto, pasta dishes, all kinds of soups and casseroles.  If you have eggs and leeks in the fridge, you have a virtually instant meal because leek sautéed in butter is great in an omelette.  Make some pastry and you can have a leek quiche and if you find some baby leeks, you can shred them and add them to a coleslaw salad.  My motto is that if you have some leeks and a decent store cupboard, you always have dinner.....

Now we have had several hard frosts, we have cracked open the parsnip bed.  From a numbers point of view, they are disappointing this year.  Parsnips are very difficult to germinate at the best of times but it was particularly challenging last spring.  The soil took weeks to warm up and then the endless rain washed sowing after sowing away.   But we have a few and those that have grown are just a good.  We get such a sense of achievement when the creamy tap roots are large, un-forked, an unblemished!  As for cooking them, we have limited supplies so we shall roast them.  Nice as it is, there is no room this year for curried parsnip soup, unless I buy some parsnips from the supermarket!

One of the surprises this autumn is that my chilli plant in the greenhouse is still fruiting and the green chillies are all gradually turning red.  However,  there has not been enough warmth to give them their fiery edge, but they are very useful as sweet pepper stand-ins.  We have brightened up several winter salads and they are tasty in pasta sauces. 

Doc picked the last bowl of raspberries on the 18th November which was good going but they were a little tasteless!  There are a handful of strawberries left on the plants in the greenhouse but I am not sure they will last the course.   The pots of fresh parsley still have lush growth but that is just about it for produce from the garden.  Apart that is, from the other herbs in the garden.  Even a handful of thyme, rosemary and bay leaves make me feel there is ‘freshness’ around.  We have green beans and lots of fruit in the freezer but it is not the same as picking fresh produce.

Perhaps next season, the harvest will be better and we will also have carrots, beetroot and pumpkin to take us into winter.  Maybe even a few cabbages, who knows?  That’s one of the wonders of gardening.  We always have the next season to look forward to.

The Lake District in November?

Doc and I hesitated about visiting the Lake District for a weekend in November.  Rain, mist and cold temperatures were three good reasons to book a mini break in Tenerife but we know of a lovely hotel which overlooks Lake Windermere, so we thought ‘what the heck!’ and went anyway.  We packed the travel scrabble, our reading books as well as the obligatory anoraks, boots and waterproof trousers.  Who was it that coined the phrase: ‘there is no such thing as bad weather, only inappropriate clothing......’?

So last Friday we travelled up the M6 – in driving rain though Doc remained as positive as ever.  He was sure it would clear up later.  However, in Kendal, the rain was even heavier!  We ate a lovely lunch in a cute cafe, did some shopping and by the time we had dinner at our hotel that evening, the oracle (a.k.a. iPad) advised us that all would be well for the rest of the weekend.  We thought sunshine and showers was perfectly acceptable.

And indeed it was.  On Saturday, the autumn landscape glowed in the sunshine and the light breeze was occasionally accompanied by a drizzle.  We took the Keswick launch across Lake Derwent to Hawes End and from there we walked for two hours, swallowed up by beauty of it all.  November is dreary month - but not always.  

Sunday morning began with a brooding, low mist and it clung to the fells during breakfast.  But the forecast was still good and we set off undaunted, for a more challenging walk around Lake Rydal.  We were not even half way round before the sun burned through the cloud.  The views were magical and proved to us that the Lake District is the wonderful Lake District, whatever the time of year. 

The colours were a rich palette of copper, red and yellow hues, softened by the evergreens, rocks and lush grassy fields. I don’t think we have ever seen such drama in hazy mist and dark brown, withering bracken.  It was breathtaking and I immediately regretted tidying up our garden quite so much!  There is so much interest and texture to be found in the dried, skeletal forms of our common garden plants.  However, Doc reminded me that after one good heavy downpour, the interest would turn to a soggy mush which would do nothing for the perennials and shrubs bedding down for the winter.  The debris would be the perfect cover for viruses and pests.   As for the soggy leaves which cling beyond the power of the leaf blower, I agree with him that it is far better to rake them up and turn them into nutritious, life-giving mulch.  

It is a gnawing irony that no matter how we gardeners try to manipulate nature in our gardens, they remain forever contrived spaces and as such they never match up to Mother Nature herself.  Left to her own devices, she can be cruel and unforgiving but she creates beauty which is unmatched by anything man could achieve.  Thank goodness we have National Parks which are protected from too much of our interference!

Digging Revisited

We don’t dig, it’s as simple as that.  We haven’t time to spend hours toiling with a heavy spade.  Doc spreads a thick layer of compost in October or November and that is that.

Not digging protects the soil and there is substantial research to prove this.  The more the soil is disturbed, the fewer worms are found in it.  With regular surface composting (mulching), the worm population increases and it is the worms that improve the soil structure.  They create tunnels which aerate the soil and allow rainfall to penetrate and their casts are rich in nutrients.  Not digging also maintains important fungus-like networks and this increases the plants’ ability to resist pests and diseases.

Adding compost on the surface does introduce a few weed seeds but it covers up those already there which means they have no light and cannot grow.  We have very few weeds in our raised beds.  The no dig method works for us and it is noticeable how the worm population has increased year on year.  It is also noticeable how a thick layer of compost helps to retain the moisture too.  It is a win win situation.

So being a no-digger I wasn’t sure how I felt about digging over a bed yesterday.  A group of us volunteer at a local special school and a bed containing soft fruit bushes had been severely neglected.  The grass and weeds were a spade deep so there was nothing we could do other than set to work, with grim determination.

I had forgotten how back breaking digging is!  Conversation was brisk and light hearted for the first hour but as we dug on through the next hour, there was quite a lot of heavy breathing.  Since we have had a lot of rain recently, our spades cut through the soil relatively easily but moisture adds weight and the soil seemed to get heavier as the afternoon progressed!  It was a quite a work out but there was an impressive pile of grassy clods to put on the compost heap.

When I got home, my tea and chocolate digestive biscuits were restorative rather than a treat.  Perhaps I would not be able to get up tomorrow...?  I ran a hot bath and enjoyed a good, long soak.  But however tired I felt, we had got the job done and with some weed suppressing membrane on top, the bed will be as good as new next season. 

I expected to feel pain when I woke up this morning but everything was in full working order.  In fact, I spent a couple of hours in the garden.  Suddenly, digging feels cool, virtuous even and, yes, I feel a teensy weensy bit smug!  Not that long ago I worked in an office and could not have contemplated such heavy work and now I can dig for 2 hours.  That feels like progress.  Doc says he is relieved that the money I have spent on the garden, my pilates and keep fit sessions, has been worth it. 

But do be careful.  Digging can seriously put your back out.  Unless you are fit, stick to the no dig method and avoid overgrown fruit beds!

Autumn is associated with scooping up leaves and tidying up.  Apart from planting bulbs and spreading compost many gardeners do not regard November as a month for productive gardening.  However, if the rain holds off, it is the perfect time to plant new trees and shrubs, divide and re-plant perennials and move plants to new homes.  The ground is moist so new plants do not dry out like they do in the summer and the soil easy to dig and is still quite warm.  The plants have time to establish before winter sets in and they are ready to put on a spurt of growth as soon as the weather warms up in spring.

So having got ahead with our own tidying up, we have managed to do some 'real' gardening this autumn.   You can get a lot done in a couple of hours here and there, grabbed between rain storms.  There has been plenty of sunshine during the last couple of weeks which helps the psychology along although it has definitely been gardening gloves weather.  There is a real nip in the air and by 3.30 pm, the light starts to fade and mugs of tea and a nice warm Aga become increasingly attractive.

Doc has filled a huge builders bag with leaves and next year we should be rewarded with rich leaf mould.  He planted a new damson tree called Merryweather, to compliment the Shopshire Prune he planted last year.   It will take a few years before they produce fruit so we are praying the old damson trees keep on providing until then.  Doc also spent an afternoon weeding the grass in the rhubarb bed, lifting the rhubarb crowns and splitting them as he went along.  He finished the bed off with a couple of bags of manure and hopefully the rhubarb will be pinker and frutier next year.   

Berberis thunbergii Atropurpurea escapes relocation - too many thorns!

Meanwhile, I have been re-shaping the ornamental borders and beds.   My grandmother was a rare character, full of gusto, spirit and independence.  (Okay, she was a battle axe!) In her defence, my granddad was a trawler man so she had a lot on her plate, bringing up my Dad and uncle on her own most of the time.  Anyway, she was a serial ‘flitter’ which means she moved house a lot.  I think I have inherited her ‘flitting’ gene because when shrubs and perennials see me coming, they groan and start packing their suitcases.

I never seem to be able to plant up a border or bed and it grow on successfully just as I planned it.  Every season, I have to move this, that and the other.   And it isn’t finished there.   No sooner have I got everything in place, than everything is overgrown and needs moving again!  I find it very frustrating (and time consuming) that I cannot seem to achieve the planting scheme I have in my head, first time round.   Does anyone else have this problem, I wonder?  I cannot imagine that professional garden designers faff around like I do.  They would soon go out of business!

Just what the Doctor ordered

 

I find the last weekend of October very challenging.   It is depressing when the clocks go back an hour and if this isn’t enough, there are grey skies and a perpetually damp garden to cope with.  I feel like hibernating under the duvet until the spring comes.   However, this year Doc had an inspired idea to brighten us up.  He suggested to some friends of ours that we all go to Westonbirt Arboretum for a day out.  Autumn colour, leaf kicking and a good walk were just what we needed before the gloom of winter takes hold.

Doc and I had not visited this wonderful treasure trove before.  Trails guided us to the seasonal hotspots and we loved the Acer Glade and the National Japanese Maple Collection.   The colours were electric – reds, pinks, oranges, purples, gold and every shade of green you could imagine.  Doc took well over a hundred photographs.  

There was everything we could wish for – dry weather, beautiful vistas, unusual species of trees and acres of grassy space to wander.  We even sat outside and enjoyed frothy coffee and a delicious spicy apple cake.  It was a busy weekend but despite the crowds, the trees soon gathered everyone in and we scarcely noticed we were not alone.  Trees have such a calming effect, don’t they?

Nester: Leaf Peeping!

Westonbirt offers something for everyone, all year and we will definitely be going back.  It was a real tonic and we felt invigorated.   Doctors don’t always reach for the prescription pad, thank goodness!

www.forestry.gov.ukk/westonbirt

Flossing is Fun

I volunteer for a local community gardening initiative and a group of us has been helping out at a special school.  The building is a former ‘grand’ house and is set in large grounds with lovely views of the countryside.  There is a wooded area, play area, raised beds, fruit trees and a two large polytunnels which provide interest and produce for the children.

When we were planning our own garden, Doc and I never considered installing a polytunnel instead of a greenhouse because at the time we associated them with agriculture.  However, they have become more popular over the years, probably because they are cheaper than greenhouses and there isn’t all that glass to worry about.  From an aesthetic point of view polytunnels look much less ‘industrial’ than they used to and I am impressed how effective they are.

Just as our greenhouse gradually develops a layer of green algae, so do Polytunnels.  Autumn is the time of year when clearing up and getting on with some outdoor cleaning edges its way to the top of the To Do list.  Unless the algae is removed, the light won’t reach the plants and although it is probably better to do the cleaning in the spring, after several months of damp weather, there is too much else to do in the garden.  As long as it is done once a year (or every other year!) we can keep on top of the green invader.

At the school, soft mops and sponges were pretty effective at cleaning the walls inside and outside of the plastic tunnels.  However, since the tunnels are very wide, there is no way that anyone could reach across the top without using a bit more ingenuity.  And we were introduced to the art of ‘flossing a polytunnel’.  Or should I say, ‘flossing a polytunnel with excited children’...

The process is simple – in theory.  Two people are required, along with a couple of long lengths of soft ropes and an old bed sheet.  We rolled up the sheet and tied a length of rope to each end.  Then the sheet was soaked in a large bucket of plant-safe detergent.

One person was tasked to toss the floss over the polytunnel and the other person had to catch the rope the other side.  This took a bit of practise because it takes skill and effort to throw a wet sheet over a high wall of plastic!  Finally though, with the floss in position, the two people then took it in turns to pull, dragging the sheet backwards and forwards over the plastic cover.

So far so good, except the tunnel needed rinsing as the flossers moved back and forth across the tunnel.  Cue some children, a hosepipe and a tap.  I had forgotten to take a waterproof anorak and when it was my turn to floss, I soon learned that some children never quite get the hang of spraying a polytunnel roof 'gently' with water.  As a result, I enjoyed (!) a good soaking.

We found it was more efficient to have 3 people involved in the flossing.  This is because someone was needed to co-ordinate the ‘flossers’ and check for any areas they had missed.  After a few pulls, the flossers seemed to forget whose turn it is to pull!

Anyway, a good time was had by all.  It was only water and I needed my hair washing anyway.  The children had a great afternoon and now the school has two very clean and tidy polytunnels.  I only wish we could wash our greenhouse in the same way. It takes me ages to clean the panes of glass!

Eggspensive!

The girls have gone on strike.  For the first time in two and half years, we are eggless.  Ginger has let herself go and is leaving feathers lying around.  She is definitely less stylish than she used to be.  Tweedledee and Tweedledum don't appear to be molting and look tidier but they give me quizzical looks when I search the nest box.  They have that 'you won't find anything in there' look on their beaks.

I have tried to bribe the trio with lettuce fresh from the garden but they are not that interested.  Don't they know that fresh lettuce in late October is quite an achievement?  Even one or two strawberries from the greenhouse are not welcomed with the relish they used to be.  The girls just mooch around doing nothing in particular - except, of course, munching their layers pellets and making a mess.  Last week we stocked up on feed, straw and bedding - AND - we had to buy eggs.  (I had almost forgetten they come in boxes of 6!)  I still have to clean the coop out and at this time of year I also have to rake out the corral.  They don't like waddling around with a garland of fallen leaves attached to their claws.

It is a good job we love them and we do appreciate the dozens and dozens of eggs they have provided.  I suppose every hard working hen deserves some 'off lay' time and I am trying to look upon this as their little holiday from work.  Hopefully, empty nest box syndrome won't last forever.  We have to believe that because Coq au vin is simply not an option.

Happy Days

Number One Daughter is now a Mrs P and very happy in her new role. The wedding was on October 6th and everything went according to plan, including the weather.  Doc was tearful as he led our little girl down the aisle and I was tearful because my shoes were killing me.  Mrs P was sensible and wore dusky pink pumps, encrusted with pearls.  The long white vintage-inspired dress did not look half bad either! 

 

But enough of fashion, it was all about the special day, seeing family and friends together and enjoying much food and drink - and funny speeches.  Oh, and the flowers!  Mrs P is a florist and she created all the arrangements herself.  They were magnificent - even though we are a teensy weensy bit biased.  Each dining table had a dramatic centre piece consisting of a tall candleabra overflowing with burgundy, red, pink and ivory roses, lilies, eucalptus, snow berries and 'love lies bleeding'.  And there was a coronet of yet more flowers on the table itself.  It was over the top but bold, inspired and lush.  When Mrs P does something, she Does It!   

 

After seeing the newly weds off to their honeymoon in Cornwall we travelled back home, quietly and in a sort of limbo.  With so much excitement, coming home was an anti-climax.  So we did what gardeners do and retreated to the plot for some therapy. 

 

Much has been achieved in a week, despite the showers and some other commitments.  Doc has chopped several trees into logs and now qualifies as a lumberjack.  He has composted the raised beds, cut the grass and continued to pick raspberries and blackberries.  I have tidied and sorted everywhere and created a huge bonfire heap, ready for Guy Fawkes night.  

 

However, the job I am most pleased about is re-claiming the steps down from terrace.  With so much rain over the summer, soil from the rockeries had washed and spilled onto the steps, providing the perfect place for weeds and plants to migrate to.  The steps are now a good six inches wider!   

 

Today is Sunday and we awoke to bright sunshine and our first frost.  The grass sparkled and felt crispy under foot when I trekked down the garden at 8.00 am.  I had to break the ice from the chickens' water container but they did not seem to mind the cold. 

 

We might not have memories of the hazy days of summer 2012 to see us through the low season.  However, we do have memories of The Wedding.  I think we have enough photos to keep us occupied until its time to start the spring planting!



 

Back to the Future

Today, for the umpteenth time this year, there is a river running through Springfield and temperatures are markedly colder.  It has rained heavily for hours, not that pitter-patter, hazy rain but thunderous stair rods which are strong enough to batter my sturdiest brolly.  The lawn is now a bog.  Thank goodness I have already sorted out the greenhouse and brought some tender plants inside.  On top of the cold, miserable weather I am feeling a little peewally.  Doc, with his decades of experience in General Practice has diagnosed ‘a bug’.  I am a free spirit stifled by a raised temperature, aches and pains – and the weather.

There is nothing better to do than reach for the paracetamol tablets and try to think about something nice.  It does not take long before Olympia, our beautiful Granddaughter comes to mind.  I open up my ipad and dive into my gallery of pictures.  She is only 8 weeks old, yet there are already too many photographs of her for my boasting book.  My heart flutters.  We shall be seeing her in less than two weeks time and Doc and I feel like excited toddlers waiting for Christmas.

I have also come across some photos taken at Mount Stewart in Northern Ireland.  It was one of the few rain-free days of summer, just before little O was born.  Our daughter-in-law is Irish and we have visited this National Trust House and Gardens several times.  It never ceases to thrill and part of its attraction has to be driving to it, along Strangford Lough where dramatic views are punctuated by birds taking flight. 

A grand house needs a grand backdrop and the south-facing Italian garden is never disappointing, whatever the time of year. There is also a series of magnificent outdoor 'rooms' which contain rare plants that thrive in the mild climate of the Ards Peninsula.  Gunera, eucalyptus and pots of beschornia, (a plant similar to a yucca, with huge pink flower spikes), create a very exotic atmosphere. There is also a wonderful ‘Leylandii’ hedge which shows just what this much maligned tree can do for a garden when planted in the right place. 

The garden is less than a hundred years old.  It is slightly eccentric and all the more beautiful because of this.  The garden was the vision of Edith, Lady Londonderry and is now of international importance. 

Above all, Mount Stewart is a garden for children.  They can explore acres of space and leave with memories of giant trees, secret paths, steps they have climbed and plants which look like they belong in a Harry Potter story. In fact, the Mairi garden was named after Viscountess Bury, Lady Londonderry’s daughter, who spent much of her time in her pram when the garden was just virgin, waste ground.  In the centre now is a statue of her and a depiction of ‘Mairi, Mairi, quite contrary’ where campanulas are the ‘silver bells and cockle shells’ and saxifrage represent the ‘little maids all in a row’.

A collection of fanciful stone creatures is a big attraction.  There are monkeys clutching urns, a Noah’s ark and a couple of Dodos.  And this brings me back to little O because it will not be long before we are introducing her to Mount Stewart because it is a garden of wonder.  

Currently, the National Trust is making plans to actively connect children with nature because so many children have no relationship whatsoever with the outdoors.  We feel very privileged that this will not be the case for little O.  She will be digging up potatoes before she is five!

All this has started to make me think we need to create our ‘Woodland walk’ which is a tunnel between the trees that border our lawn and our neighbour’s boundary.  It is dark and spooky, just what Olympia will like.  But we first need to tidy it up, lay lots of bark chippings and build some steps at the house end, to lead visitors up to the terrace. I am sure there will be dens made along the path!

And of course, we need to fix Olympia up with a set of her own special tools.  Not the cheap, bendy kind but a decent trowel, fork and junior spade.  With a packet of marigolds and a game of ‘hunt the gnome’, we are good to go.  As long as she brings her wellies!

Come on, please own up!

I find it funny that there is so much advice for gardeners about how they can attract wildlife onto their plot.  Our hotel and restaurant is fully booked all year round and we never have to advertise.  You name it, we host it and usually there is more wildlife at Springfield than we can cope with.  I have, on several occasions, considered putting up a ‘No Vacancies’ sign but I am not sure if our local Garden Club would approve.

Some friends of ours are not aware that our garden has a regular clientele and have kindly given us various bird feeders, bird boxes and seed cakes in all shapes and sizes.  However, it is the insect box that has become the most intriguing.

The insect box consists of a wooden frame stuffed with hollow lengths of bamboo cane and the hope is that insects are attracted by the small ‘rooms’ and take up residence there for the winter months.  Insects are very small and although I see them darting around the flower beds I have never spotted any of them crawling about the insect box or laying any eggs.  Still, the box looks nice hanging from one of the old damson trees and we get a tick in the box for ‘attracting wildlife’.

However, this summer, ‘someone’ in the animal, bird or insect kingdom is playing games with us because every couple of days we find the bamboo canes from the insect box, scattered all over the grass.  Being garden-proud we tidy up and put them all back.  At first, fitting them back into the box was a challenge because the bamboo canes are different sizes and we finished up with one fat piece of bamboo cane and a very tiny space in which to slot it. 

But practise makes perfect and for the past few weeks, Doc and I have had competitions to see how long it takes us to re-assemble the insect box.  (Doc is very smarmy now that he can do it in less than 2 minutes.)  The game is like one of those pointless activities from that old TV show, The Krypton Factor and for me, the novelty has worn off.  It has become intensely irritating to have to stack the bamboo canes when I could be weeding the borders or picking blackberries.  Doc on the other hand, probably inspired by the Olympics, loves it.  His current boast is that he can do it one-handed.

Either the culprit has to own up to this tom-foolery or I will have to install CCTV.  One way or another, I will find out who is emptying the insect box and he or she will be evicted from the property.  If there is anyone out there who has any information which may be useful in my enquiries, please let me know.  There is a reward – one very attractive insect box!

Curly Beans!

We have grown French beans and Runner beans for more years than we care to remember.  Both Doc and I prefer the flavour of Cobra or Blue Lake French beans but in this part of the world they tend to be less tolerant of our often cold spring weather than Runner beans.  We usually achieve an early start with our Runner Beans and the French beans follow on later in the season.  We have also had good success with planting a late crop of dwarf French beans in early August.

This unusually wet summer, with lower than average light levels, has challenged most fruit and vegetable growers.  I don’t know anyone who has a decent crop of apples and plums are nowhere to be seen.  However, the runner beans, though not as prolific this year, are doing well and I am happily picking a trug full every couple of days.  Scarlett Emperor brings joy to the late summer garden and by the amount of flowers I saw today, there are lots more to come.  The bees love them.

The French beans have struggled to get going this season and we have appreciated them all the more because of their scarcity.  However, they are incredibly curly!  Usually there are a handful of twisted French and Runner beans in the trug and this tends to be caused by the beans coming up against an obstruction such as a bean pole.  However, this year, our French beans have taken curliness to an art form.   The ones in the photo were hanging freely and were not restricted in any way.  Some of the beans have been so tightly curled that they were more like Catherine wheels than beans.

I suggested to Doc that the beans may not have had sufficient water and he raised his eyebrows at this.  However, we do grow our vegetables in well-drained raised beds in a south-westerly position so it only takes a few days of dry weather for the beds to lose moisture, despite the copious amount of organic matter that Doc uses to mulch the beds.  Maybe because the summer has been wetter than usual, we have assumed the beans have been well watered.  Perhaps they have needed a good drink and we overlooked them?

Fluctuations in temperature may have increased the numbers of curly beans because we have had some hot days followed by cold nights. Viruses are another potential cause but the foliage on our beans is healthy and green.

Straight beans win prizes at shows and supermarkets condition shoppers to expect perfection.  But our curly beans taste just as nice as the straight ones.  It takes longer to top and tail them but who cares.  Beans are beans, straight or curly!

A Grand Day Out

We are dedicated gardeners but spending all four days of the bank holiday weekend tending the plot is a bit much.  So, we dodged rain showers and enjoyed a great day out at Clumber Park near Worksop.  We spent a long time in the walled garden which is well worth a visit!

The garden is huge and is home to the National Trust’s largest glass house which adds architecture and stature to the garden.  It is gardening on a grand scale and the plot has walls within walls to create different garden rooms.  There are thirty local varieties of apple, grown as standards, espaliers or step-overs and if you like rhubarb there are over a hundred varieties.  It is a celebration of all things edible.

 

For late August the deep flower borders were full of colour and buzzing with bees from the apiary.  We wandered round for ages, taking inspiration not only from the many varieties of fruit and vegetables but also the standard of horticulture.  All the plants are grown well and it is a pleasure to see such high standards. 

 

We enjoyed a lovely lunch at Barkers restaurant which was originally the Head Gardeners house and sampled produce from the garden.  The ambience, food and service were the same standard as the garden.  I love cooking but it was really nice to feel spoiled. 

Since the weather was unexpectedly good during the late afternoon, Doc cut the grass when we got home whilst I picked the beans.  However, it wasn’t long before I spotted that (thanks to all this moist, warm weather) the outdoor tomatoes have succumbed to blight.  We have never grown outdoor tomatoes before so this is a new (and unwelcome) experience for us.  I had to clear the bed and take everything to the bonfire heap.  This is another good reason for continuing with our usual greenhouse tomatoes.  They are growing well and despite the challenging season, we are harvesting a decent crop - and there is no blight.  

Making Do

I was talking to a neighbour the other day and she was surprised when I said I was fed up with disentangling the bramble runners from the flower bed at the foot of the lawn.  I have been pulling and tugging the monsters for several painful years and even investing in a decent pair of leather gloves has not minimised this horrible chore.  The aim is always to attack them with the secateurs before they attack me and get as many as I can on the bonfire heap in the shortest possible time. My neighbour was dismayed and thought that since I am (in her eyes) an experienced and competent amateur gardener, I would have the skills and knowledge to deal with the problem permanently.

But a gardening life is not quite like that, is it?  It is not straightforward and although I aspire to do things properly, sometimes things get in the way and I have to cut corners.  The flower bed we were discussing is very old.  It probably took several decades to establish it and several more for it to deteriorate.  We garden on a hill and although the bed is 4 feet wide at the front, which is the pretty side, it is actually a steep bank and drops away sharply at the back.  The thicket of overgrown shrubs masks the hidden danger of the bank and I have more chance of breaking bones than finding the source of the brambles.  Somewhere at the bottom of our list is ‘clear banked bed’ but it would be a major restoration job and several weeks work.  We are secretly hoping that we will have been admitted to a nursing home before the task reaches the top of the list.

So, I make the bed look as good as I can under the circumstances.  I haul the brambles out twice a year which stops them from reaching the lawn.  I hack at the shrubs as neatly as I can and plant attractive plants at the front for colour and to give the impression that all is calm and under control.

‘Making the best of it’ also applies to a lovely pink hydrangea I was given on my 50th birthday.  At the time, we had the builders in and the garden was a disaster zone.  So I quickly plonked it in a pot and it grew quite well for a couple of years and I even remembered to water and feed it well. 

When I discovered it was pot bound, I quickly found it another temporary home, in the border which surrounds the terrace.  It was totally the wrong place, being south-west facing, far too dry and sunny in the summer and too windy in the winter.  But, seeing as this was only going to be a stop-gap to finding it a permanent position, I was happy.

But of course, it was left longer than I had planned - a few years longer.  The move from pot to bed decreased flower production and then we had two dry summers and two really bad winters.  Last year I thought I had finally killed it and felt very guilty and sad.

However, this summer it seems to have sensed my sorrow and shame and perked up. When much of the garden has been challenged this summer, this is my hydrangea’s best year for flowering and it has grown quite large.  The wet weather must have suited it and it is going to be a mass of pink mop heads contrasted with lush bright green foliage.

It is still technically in the wrong place but I cannot bring myself to move it again, even if it is to a moister, sheltered, semi-shady area of the garden – where it belongs.
 
I am bemused by the colour-changing quirk of the ‘mop’ hydrangea.  Apparently, those with
blue or pink flowers tend to be blue in acid soil conditions and pink in alkaline soil.  We have rhododendrons, a camellia and azaleas so we definitely have acid soil.  However, our pink hydrangea is definitely pink!  I think the soil varies in different parts of the garden.

I quite like to leave the flowers until they have completely faded and have that interesting papery quality and I will leave them there until next spring, to protect the plant from frost during the colder months.  Well, that is the plan anyway. 

Gardens are so peaceful....

We are still catching up in the garden and because the plot is large, we divide the work up so that it is manageable and achievable in the time we have available.  We both like to start and finish a task and have found that if we wander from job to job, here and there, we never feel in control and can't tell what we have accomplished.  

Doc has been pruning and tieing in our new cherry tree called Stella which is in its second season and growing very well.  With patience and care, we hope to harvest some fruit in the next couple of years.  It has a warm south facing aspect in Mr Macgregor's Garden and Doc is training it into a compact fan shape against the trellis.  This will make it easier to net the tree when protecting the crop from the birds.  Doc has also thinned the fruits on the long row of cordon apples.  This feels like we are breaking the rules of the larder but it has to be done to enourage larger fruits. 

Last Wednesday, I allocated the whole day to the garden which is unusual for me as I am usually fitting my garden tasks in between rushing around in the car, eating a sandwich and hanging out the washing.  However, an appointment was cancelled and the weather forecast was good so I decided to give the borders a thorough tidy up and treat the chickens to a spring clean.  I was full of energy and motivated.

They say a garden is a wonderful place of solitude, where you can lose yourself in therapeutic labours and gentle birdsong.  I have indeed experienced this many times but not last Wednesday because last Wednesday was black Wednesday. 

Our neighbours were away and they left had their builders behind to get on with laying a new, rather large patio. With an angle grinder and a cement mixer for company they diligently set to work and declined my offer mugs of tea (for my benefit, not theirs), telling me they preferred to crack on and get the job done.  On top of that, our neighbour
next door-but-one to us decided to cut his lawn with a ride-on lawn mower and the neighbours the other side of us had two gardeners hard at work, one strimming the edges and under the trees and the other mowing the lawns with his ride-on mower.  It was noiser than Heathrow airport.

I am proud that I struggled on for 6 hours but when my head started to thump I had to admit defeat.  I came back into the house, grabbed some paracetamol tablets and flopped in a chair for some peace and quiet.  The silence was truly golden.

There are some noises in the garden which are loud but not invasive.  Children playing outside does not bother me because they are having fun. We have a restored railway line a couple of fields away and yesterday there was a steam train pootling up and down, just like a Thomas the Tank Engine and I swear it was pooping its whistle at me.  I wanted to put on a white pinny and stand on our steps, waving a white hankerchief but Doc says I am no replacement for Jenny Agutter. 

Anyway, we all appreciate labour saving equipment and thankfully, black Wednesdays do not come round very often.  Our neighbours are lovely and we are generous to one another.  What is one headache between friends? 

Since builders dust and bedding plants do not mix, my neighbour (the one with the dedicated builders) gave me her hanging basket to watch over.  It is overflowing with yellow and red begonias and purple trailing petunias.  The perfume from the petunias is sweet and exotic so when the builders went home and the gardeners retired to their compost heaps, I dared to venture out of our back door. I stood underneath the hanging basket and inhaled, very deeply.  Suddenly, the world was a better place.    

Home Again

We have a new baby in the family - our first grandchild – and we have fallen in love with her.  She was born just before the Olympic Games opening ceremony and she is perfect.  There will always be a special place in our hearts for Olympia, our little golden girl.   (But please don't tell her Mum and Dad that we are secretly calling her Olympia because they prefer the name they have chosen.....) 

Our son and daughter-in-law are both thrilled and exhausted and we felt sad to leave the new family behind in Belfast, knowing that Olympia had probably grown bigger and produced yet another load of washing by the time we reached the ferry terminal.  I do wish I could pop in and give her Mum a hand.  But we have skype and I am boring everyone with a wallet full of pictures, including the dentist.  Bless him, he made all the right noises but I expect he thinks babies are all alike.

We have also taken refuge in the garden because there isn’t much it cannot cure or help us endure. It has been a long time since we have left Springfield for more than two weeks and I expected lots of weeds but for August, the amount of growth and intensity of green is astonishing.  Usually, the top lawn is parched but it is actually, dare I say it, verging on attractive.  The hedges are in need of a second trim and considering how many drenches the flower borders have had, they look lively and fresh. 

Doc picked some raspberries and more redcurrants which we open froze on trays.  There is a second flush of strawberries on the way so I have netted them in readiness.  We have our sights set on Eaton Mess  - which will have to be another source of comfort in the absence of Olympia.

The indoor tomato plants are very healthy and Moneymaker is producing the largest fruits. The outdoor tomatoes are disappointing and are suffering from greenback which I think is caused by insufficient feeding during our absence.  Perhaps the rain has washed away the nutrients in the soil?  Many of the fruits have been eaten though, not by our neighbours, but by un-named beasties who have generously left the tomato skins behind.  (The usual suspects are mice and slugs.)  I have enjoyed growing outdoor tomatoes for the first time but I won’t be doing it again.  Greenhouse tomatoes are much more successful.

Before we left for Belfast, I removed all the courgette and runner bean flowers in order to stall their growth and this has been successful.  There are now lots of new flowers to brighten up the veg plot and I picked 3 semi-decent courgettes for our supper today.  As for the leeks, they seem to love the wet weather and have doubled in size since we went away.  Even the beetroots are swelling nicely.  I planted masses of them but only a couple of short rows survived so I am grateful for whatever we have. 

Many of the lettuces we left behind have either been harvested by our chicken sitters or gone to seed.  However, when I cut lettuces I always leave a stump and roots behind to encourage re-growth.  So we have come home to fresh lettuce leaves which are a bonus.   I plan to sow some cut and come again salad mix tomorrow, to keep the supply of salad leaves coming.

Of course, there has been weeding to do and I have tidied up some of the perennials and climbers which have finished flowering.  This will allow those which are yet to flower the opportunity to take centre stage.   August can be a difficult month in the garden but not this year.  Despite the rain, it is bringing forth an abundance of colour and energy to brighten up our lives, just like our gorgeous Olympia.

Is it time for a sleep yet? (Mum and Dad would like it to be!)

  
PS  Apparently, there a variety of chrysanthemum called Olympia which is white with tinges of yellow......  must check that one out.

It goes on a bit, doesn't it?

The Duke of Medina Sedonia probably hoped that strength and strategy would bring victory to the Spanish Armada in 1588 but it was the English stormy weather that helped to defeat his Spanish galleons.  He came up with the phrase: ‘Rain, rain, go away.’ My thoughts exactly.

I have tried to stay positive and not moan about the rain because we gardeners depend on it to keep the plot bountiful, the grass green and the reservoirs full.  Also, I have always felt there is a certain romance to rain.  As a child, I remember sitting in a caravan on a windswept campsite, reading my Enid Blyton book and listening to the pitter patter of the rain on the roof.  It made me feel cosy and safe inside, especially if there was a mug of cadbury's cocoa too.  There have been times nowadays, when a trip to the greenhouse means I can steal a crafty sit down and listen to the same comforting drip, drip, dropping.
 
However, you can have too much of a good thing and the novelty of wearing an anorak in the garden, in summer, has worn off.  My half full trug of produce last week has long since gone and shockingly, I am missing the pain from my usually seasonal  'watering can arm'. The garden is now a designated marsh area and the rose buds are mouldy.  The chickens looked miserable when I let them into the corral today and their little claws sank into the mud.  (Does anyone know where I can buy chicken wellies?)

But there is nothing we can do, except salvage what there is from the veg plot - and hope.  I have covered the lettuces with cloches to stop them from rotting and I lifted the onions and put them on the greenhouse staging to dry off.  The beetroot has perked up a tiny bit and the runner beans look happier now they have finally managed to crawl up the canes, away from the ground, though need a lot of encouragement to keep going.

Yesterday, Doc seized on a sunny window of opportunity and cut the grass which was so lush it was in need of a re-style rather than a trim.  I have never seen Doc drive the ride-on mower quite so fast and with every approaching grey cloud, he put his foot down even harder on the accelerator pedal.  His strimming skills improved considerably too and I am wondering if there are any strimming competitions he could enter .  Perhaps he could win us a holiday in the sun.  Fortunately though, the weather held, he finished the job and there is now a sodden, seven foot high pile of clippings at the end of the garden.  (Send creative ideas on a postcard, please.) 

It has been pouring all day today and surprise, surprise, the forecast says it will rain again tomorrow.  I will soon run out of indoor jobs because there is a limit to how many times I can clean out the cupboards and put the canned pulses in date order.  I must try and cheer myself up.  I must think of Gene Kelly, gloriously happy, sloshing his way down the street in that wonderful and iconic 1952 film musical.  He did not care about soggy socks and wet lettuces.  'Dum, de dum, dum, dum de, dum de, dum, dum......I’m singin’ and dancing in.... the rain........’

A trug half full

Activity in the garden has been restricted lately.  Weather stopped play which is disappointing but that’s how it is and we have to make the best of it.  I cannot remember a summer quite as wet as this.   I have never seen patches of standing water in the orchard.
Since we live on a hill, we are safe but there is so much water that our neighbours’ run off from their already saturated lawn has joined our run off.  Consequently, we now have a stream running down the garden path which we are trying to think of as our new water feature.

However, it was warm and sunny today.  It has not rained but the ground is still saturated and my boots squelched around the garden.  The fruit and vegetables are as disappointing as the weather.  This is not a good year for any of the root veg and the butternut squash are non-existent.  

But it is not all bad news.  Today, I achieved half trug full of delights and there is nothing like scarcity to increase my gratitude.  We may not have a glut of courgettes but there are two little yellow ones which are perfect for the pasta sauce.  The mangetout are growing very well and I keep them in the fridge to nibble in between meals instead of biscuits.  Last week we had a big bag full and I made a stir-fry and we still had some left over the next day, to lightly steam.  We ate them with some fish and our own fresh parsley sauce.

The star of the trug has to be the blackcurrants.  I was checking out the lettuces (attacked by slugs) and strings of jet black tiny beads caught my eye.   Before you could say vitamin C, I had abandoned slug hunting in favour of gathering a necklace or two of these wonderful gems.  The sun was on my back and the blackcurrants were warm and fragrant.  I spent half an hour in blissful solitude, listening to the birds and at one with nature.  Weather beaten I am not.