Colour for the New Year

Christmas with the family was great and we are taking a breather from festive food before the New Year celebrations begin.  Over the last few days Doc and I have craved simple meals like beans and toast with a poached egg on top (thank you girls!) and pumpkin soup from the freezer. Mind you, we could not resist a couple of pieces of Christmas cake and chocolate covered Brazil nuts!

We received two lovely gifts earlier in December, having been surprised by not one, but two amaryllis bulbs – a red one and a pink one.  I am not generally a fan of houseplants because I struggle to give them the right conditions.  I also get bored with them too because many of them stay the same, year after year and attract dust.  Recently, our collection has consisted of:

A succession of orchids, the remains of which are in the spare bedroom in the hope that they will leap out of dormancy any minute now.....

A large palm-type triffid, donated by Number One Daughter when her flat could not accommodate it any longer.)

A coral pink Christmas cacti, that reminds me of my mum because she loved them so much.  They are weird plants in that the little flower buds form at the tips of the fleshy leaves.  She had one once which grew so big we could not sit at the dining table to eat!

A prayer plant (Maranta leuconeura erythroneura). This plant is amusing in that close to the evening, the leaves start slowly folding as if they are praying.  Ah!

A Peace Lily (not a lily at all but a Spathiphyllum) which I rescued from an odds and ends shelf at the local DIY store. 

A Poinsettia - well you gotta have one of these at Christmas because it is traditional and christmassy.  However, we don't go in for trendy pink ones at Springfield, it just has to be gaudy red.  My Australian pen-friend tells me that they are the floral emblem for Queensland which is nice.  Anyway, they can be a bit temperamental so my advice is to buy them from a good nursery rather than a supermarket.   In recent years, I have managed to keep them going for weeks and weeks.  I am lucky this year because my friend J gave me one as a present.  I must try to ensure it is here to show when she to visits us again in January.  But there there was a double leaf drop yesterday.....!  

Still, things are generally looking up in the houseplant department because the Christmas cacti has flowered for the first time at Christmas and the arrival of the amaryllis bulbs is turning out to be a refreshing change.  I had quite forgotten how interesting these bulbs are.  How can a bulb the size of a tennis ball grow so quickly into such a stunning plant?

The flowers are big and blousy, enormous and exotic which is uplifting in the dark days of winter.  Both of the bulbs were already sprouting a green shoot, even in their gift boxes.  I arranged them in lightly moistened compost and put them in the kitchen where it is warm, as per the instructions.   (Since they are tropical in origin, they need a bit of cosseting indoors.)  I spend a lot of time at the kitchen sink, so I have been amazed how easy they are to grow, and the speed at which they are racing towards the TV on the wall.   The pink one has two fully formed flowers already and another two are yet to open and there is a gentle, pleasant scent in the air.  Hopefully, they should flower for several weeks and they are providing ample photo opportunities - Santa also brought me a new camera.

My next trick is to achieve a second flowering from these exotic blooms.  If my orchids are anything to go by, I have the feeling that this may not be as easy second time round.   Watch this space!

Night Walk

Every year I deliver the last batch of local Christmas Cards in an evening, on foot.  There is something magical about putting on my boots, scarf and bobble hat and wandering through the quiet village streets alone, with all the lights sparkling.  I call it my Christmas night walk and it helps get me into the Christmassy mood.  It is always such a frenetic build up to the Big Event but now that most of the preparations are finished now I can sigh with a deep sense of relief (I got there!) and start to enjoy the festive period.

I love the Christmas lights and decorations and people take such trouble over their creations nowadays.  (I admit to coveting some of them which is not seasonally generous but at least I am honest!)  Usually I am taking a quick glance at the lights as I drive past in the car but tonight I had the time to stroll, close up, and it was amazing to see all the detail.

There is a lot of what I call traditional lighting where jewel coloured bulbs are strung in rows on spruce trees, positioned by the front door.  White lights that twinkle or blink intermittently are popular too and I saw some that are what I can only describe as ‘running’ lights, where one pulse of light appears to travel round and round until it reaches the top of the tree.  It is great fun.

I saw endless variations on the Christmas wreath, read signs asking Santa to call and that the chimney is This Way.  There are Santa gnomes and an elf sitting on a rock by a gate.  And of course there are snowmen (not real ones yet!) with knitted scarves and cuddly polar bears that nod and wave a paw.

My favourite decoration is the tall branch of silver birch with branches sprayed white and silver.  It is strewn with the tiniest of fairy lights which shimmer in a sequence of waves, first white, then red and finally blue.  It is very contemporary but seems to capture that magical feeling of Christmas, in a simple and stunning way.

I enjoyed my walk and posted my good wishes to our friends and neighbours.  I wish everyone a happy Christmas and healthy and happy 2012.  I don’t know about you but what I need now is a nice glass of mulled wine and a mince pie. 

And next year, I will be a little more daring with Springfield's Christmas decorations!

Christmas in style

The origin of the evergreen wreath dates back to pre-Christian times when Germanic peoples gathered evergreens in the cold darkness of mid-winter, arranged them in a circle to symbolise the cyclical nature of seasons and as a sign that spring was coming and there would be new light. Later, Christians adopted the wreath and it became a symbol of Christ’s everlasting light.  Traditionally the Christmas wreath had 4 candles in the circle and a fifth in the centre.  The first candle was lit at the beginning of advent and then the remaining candles were lit, one a week, until December 25th.

Nowadays, it is usual to see Christmas wreaths hung on front doors and our house is no exception.  It is a welcoming sight for visitors (especially the Postman!) and since we generally use our back door more than the front door, it encourages us to change our habits for a while and enjoy the greenery every day. 

Usually, I spend a happy Saturday afternoon in December collecting a mass of greenery from the garden, including holly and ivy.  After 3 hours of faffing and positioning and re-positioning of the berries, bows and cinnamon sticks, I hang it on the hook with pride and satisfaction that I made it myself.  Then I usually go and find the sticking plasters because holly does not respect fingers. 
 
This year, Number One Daughter, who is a florist, has made our wreath this year.  She lives a long way away but the timing of her last visit was just right so she brought us one of her specials.  It took her half an hour or so to make it, but she is a professional after all.  I love her traditional design.  I don’t go in for wreaths made of sprouts or tinsel! 

Beauty takes time

You need vision to be a gardener because developing your dream space takes time – unless you have a large budget that facilitates ordering a garden in a van.  You have to be able to visualise what the little shrublet in the pot at the garden centre, will look like as a fully grown specimen in ten years time and ensure it is in harmony with its surroundings.  Sometimes my visionary skills are tested and this Sorbus Sargentiana is a case in point.  

For a long time we have planned to re-plant the bed at the front of our property and add colour which we can enjoy from the house.  2011 saw the start of this process. 

There is an established, if a little tired, laburnum tree so we decided on a palette of the hot, jewelled colours.  We also have a small fir tree in the bed which would look lovely strung with fairy lights – if we ever get round to it!  Anyway, we overhauled the bed and planted some perennials and spring flowering bulbs.  Until they grow, there are a lot of gaps and too much brown earth for anyone’s liking. 

Planting a tree was definitely part of the vision.  After consulting books, the internet and other gardeners, we decided on a Sorbus Sargentiana - because a Rowan can deliver high impact in a medium sized space.

The Sargent is a small to medium-sized deciduous tree growing to 6–16 m tall, with an attractive rounded crown.   There are stout shoots of large, sticky red buds in winter, white flowers with yellow stamens in early summer, followed by red berries which are a joy for the birds.  The long, green leaves turn a fiery orange and red in the autumn so this is a fantastic tree for interest all year round. Needless to say, lots of other gardeners think the same and sourcing one was quite a challenge.







A supplier put our name on the waiting list for the next shipment of bare rooted stock.  A pot-grown tree can be planted any time of year but bare rooted trees are planted from late autumn when they are relatively dormant and there is still enough warmth in the soil to become established before the really harsh weather sets in.  So a week or so ago on a very wet day, our bare rooted tree arrived in a cardboard box.  Or should I say, our stout ‘stick’ arrived in a cardboard box.

Bare rooted trees are field-grown, dug up for re-planting and have their roots trimmed.  They need to be planted immediately, before their roots dry out so Doc set to work the next day and we now have a stick in the ground rather than a stick in a box.  Bare rooted trees need less attention ie watering, than their pot-grown cousins so basically all we do now is wait for the vision to be realised ...and wait...because Sorbus Sargentiana is a slow growing tree.

A neighbour has told us that a friend of theirs planted the very same tree and it sat in the soil for two years without so much as trying to grow even an inch, let alone reaching anywhere near its potential.  They dug it up and put it on the bonfire which was such a waste and all because they lost patience.

We do wonder if we have enough life left to see our Sargent reach perfection but that is what having a vision is all about, isn’t it?  It is not about now, it is about an indefinite point in the future.  It is an act of faith.  Still, it would be nice to have something nice to look at when we are drinking our coffee.  I wonder if we should drape a few fairy lights around it for Christmas?
 
Note to self:  when buying a tree as a gift, choose a pot-grown specimen because the chances are it will be older and look like a tree, with arching branches and leaves....

 

Winter has arrived

During the last few days we have had the first flurreys of icing sugar snow and heard the snap, crackle and pop of hailstones bouncing off the roof light in the kitchen.  Those warmer than usual autumn days have long gone and it is time to upgrade to heavy duty boots and thicker jumpers.

There is plenty to do outside but it is a tough gardener who ventures outside to tend the plot.  I do have a pair of thermal gardening gloves but at the back of my mind there is the idea that walking on wet ground will compact the soil structure and store up trouble for next year.  Well, that’s my excuse anyway.  I am very happy to put my ‘I’d rather be in the garden’ mug in the back of the cupboard, until it feels a degree or two warmer.

So, gardening at Springfield is currently a series of quick dashes up and down the garden path.   Of course, the chickens need constant care and today they were sheltering underneath their new rain cover, looking a little pensive.  I bought the cover from
www.omlet.co.uk and the great thing about it is that it is made from clear, heavy duty plastic so the hens can see out and I can see inside the run more easily.  We are now waiting to see how much weather the winter will throw at it.

I still have some salads in the raised beds.  The radicchio leaves are soggy on the outise but the hearts are still going strong and bring a sharply flavoured, ruby-red crispness to a salad.  The spiky mizuna and glossy spinach are hanging on in there too.  In the greenhouse, there are trays of cut and come again salad greens and I have some little Winter Gems bobbing along nicely.


Now that the plot has been well frosted, Doc digs some parsnips every week.  After a blast of cold air, the starches turn to sugar and the parsnips caramelise in the oven and taste so much sweeter.  If we don’t need to use the parsnips immediately, Doc leaves the soil on them because they store better this way and as I write there are a couple waiting expectantly in the utility room.
 
The leeks are another joy of winter and Doc regularly digs up half a dozen or so.  He cleans them all, pops them in a poly bag in the fridge and then we cook with them through the following week.  They are just as versatile as onions but offer a softer, oniony flavour.  One of our favourite dishes is leeks sautéed with bacon and covered with a thick, cheese sauce and topped with crispy breadcrumbs.....

Fortunately we managed to arrange one of the bigger autumn tasks to be finished before the cold snap this week.   A large, variegated holly was in need of a substantial taming so a friend of ours who has the kit, offered to tackle the job for us.  The result was a huge mound of prickly potential for our family florist.  Number One Daughter was visiting last weekend so she took a huge bag full of it back to Arcade Flowers in Ringwood.  Stored outside, it lasts for ages.  As for the rest of the heap, a more local florist has taken it away which is great.  Instead of being consigned to the bonfire heap, the lovely holly will brighten up many a front door over the festive period.

The Tale of Five Chickens

Yesterday, I had 3 chickens to give their weekly thorough clean out to and 2 chickens to roast.  Two worlds collided and I blame Doc for this.  He said we had not had chicken for a while.  Organic birds were on Special Offer at the supermarket and why don’t we make Chicken Fricassee for the troops next weekend?  It was a good idea, in theory.  Cooking the chicken in advance, making the stock and freezing it, would save time and dinner could be prepared in a jiffy.  In any case, Doc said, Chicken Fricassee used to be one of our family favourites....

That was until the girls arrived last year.  Since then, eating chicken has a slightly uncomfortable association for me.  It is hard to care for Ginger, Tweedledee and Tweedledum, get to know their individual little personalities and then cook one of their ‘colleagues’ for dinner.

I am not vegetarian - I do like sausages and bacon- but I think I have leanings in that direction.  I don’t like rare meat full stop and would never order a steak.  Having so much produce in the garden also means the veggies have increasingly taken’ centre plate’ and of course, our eggs are simply wonderful.

Anyway, I told myself to get a grip of the two carcasses in front of me on the chopping board.  They were not our birds, they were strangers, with a good provenance and hopefully had lived a contented life. If I was starving, I would be grateful.  We have to get real and connect with our food, from field to plate.

All the same, I was pleased when the preparations for Chicken Fricassee were complete.  I must remember to chop the chicken meat quite small so it does not cause a lump in my throat next weekend.  I will also make plenty of mushroom veloute sauce to go with it.

If...

If I hadn't chosen to shut the chicken coop door at 4.30 pm....if I hadn't noticed a few fallen apples strewn underneath one of the old apple trees in the orchard....if I had chosen to leave them rather than take the trouble to collect them....  and if the half light of dusk had not contributed me to lose my footing and stumble.... then I wouldn't have sat on the bench to rub my ankle...  And I would not have seen and heard it.

It was its large flapping wings than alerted me and I sat bolt upright, daring not to breathe or move as the visitor glided and descended into another of the old apple trees, just a few feet away from my own perch.  I could tell by the silouette and size that it was an owl which was confirmed a few moments later by the familiar hoots.

The owl's haunting calls were duly answered by an owl in a neighbouring garden and precipitated a conversation that lasted several minutes.  I don't know how I managed to stay so still for so long.  Then the owl opened its wings and up and away it flew, across the orchard and out to the valley beyond.

We enjoyed a wonderful weekend with a houseful of family but I felt subdued as I waved the last of the smalls off this morning.  The house was quiet and I felt lonely as I tackled the washing and ironing.  A visit to the dentist contributed to my malaise.  However, I now feel uplifted.  Special moments cannot be planned for or contrived, they just happen.  

Last rasberry day

It may be the day for gunpowder, treason and plot but it is also the day when I picked the very last of the rasps.  Autumn Bliss lives up to its name.

Our canes were here when we moved to Springfield, 8 years ago and they show no signs of weakness.   I chop them down to the ground in February, Doc mulches them with grass clippings, compost, or manure – whatever there is an abundance of – and they get on with it.  Occasionally, we thin out the runners but they don’t seem to mind.  They start fruiting in July and rain or shine, they just get better and better as the season progresses.  We never net them because the birds seem to ignore them.

However, we don’t ignore them and although Doc prefers strawberries, it doesn’t stop him competing with me for the very Last One.  Still, there are bags and bags of them in the freezer and a stack of raspberry jam in the pantry.  The jars sparkle like jewels and it’s like having a treasure trove to keep us going through the winter.

I can hear the bangs and whooshes outside.  I hope the chickens are okay.  They will probably go off lay and there will be rocket sticks to collect in the morning.  I think I will watch Strictly on TV to drown out the noise .  Bah Humbug!

Smug Gardeners and the Perfect Parsnip

There is something very special about digging up the first parsnip of the autumn season and today was FPD (First Parsnip Day).  It is best to start harvesting parsnips after the first frosts because frost converts the starch into sugar to create that wonderful sticky, caramel when you roast them.  So since we have had some mild frosts Doc suggested we do the deed today and he sallied forth with the spade. I stopped tidying up the strawberry plants and looked on expectantly.  At this point we were both excited and anxious because it was way back in April when the seeds were sown.  And until you dig up the first parsnip you don’t know how you’ve done.

And the result?  See for yourself! 

We call it a perfect parsnip:  dead straight with a good weight to it and no blemishes or nibbled bits.  We are roasting it this very hour to eat with a braised lamb shank in red wine, garlic and sprigs of rosemary.  Autumn certainly has its blessings and today is one of them. 

I know we shouldn’t boast but honestly, sometimes we need a decent pat on the back to keep us going.  We are a smug couple and only need one more thing to make the whole day perfect:  A roaring log fire to keep out the chill.  And Doc has already brought in the logs.

Simple pleasures are the best and this is a very good day.

Are you looking forward to scary Monday?

Personally, I could give Hallowe’en, as an event,  a miss.  I am not sure I like the idea of children knocking on strangers’ doors and trick-or-treating and there are enough real-life scary things in this world already.  If you want scary, forget black plastic spiders, come and look at the larger than life tarantulas that lurk in the recesses of our shed.  They move, they are scary.

Anyway, I usually soften up at the sight of jolly jack-o’-lanterns.  Pumpkins have featured large (literally) in our garden for a good few years and we have had a reasonable harvest this year.  They are very easy to grow and much more forgiving of our climate than the elusive Butternut Squash which usually sits and sulks.  We have a designated 2 metre square pumpkin patch because you can grow them in same place year after year, as long as the soil is well manured, composted and kept weed free.  I usually grow two plants (plus a couple of spares), starting them off in pots in the greenhouse and then planting them out when the soil has warmed up.  Cloches also help pumpkins bed in and get going.  They love a bit of warmth.

They need moisture, lots of it and are heavy feeders but basically they get on with it.  They do have a habit of trying to escape but once lots of fruits and flowers are forming, I pinch out the growing tips to keep the plants in check and reduce the foliage so the plants concentrate their energy on bulking up the fruits.  I place old tiles under the pumpkins to keep them dry and when I spot early signs of mildew, I remove the affected leaves.  Usually mildew gathers momentum towards the end of the summer so although the plants look tatty, they are okay really.

The pumpkins must be harvested before the first autumn frosts and I put them on trays in the greenhouse for a couple of weeks to ripen and harden.  I leave a good ‘handle of stalk’ because that is where the rot begins.

This year we had 14 pumpkins to harvest and they were not as large as last year’s crop because of the dry summer.  Nevertheless we have enough pumpkin for us to ponder and scratch our heads.  This is another challenge for the Springfield Food Processing Department.

I have given two of the pumpkins to the boys next door, for their lanterns.  I have made one into soup and there is one with Number One Daughter’s name on it.  I can’t give Number One Son his treasure because none of the airlines will let me take pumpkins on the plane to Northern Ireland.
 
So that leaves me with 10 beauties and they are in boxes in the garage at the moment, waiting for my inspiration (or desperation) to dawn.

Pumpkins have huge potential in the kitchen but they do need a bit of work.  You need gloves on when cutting into the monsters - to avoid a visit to the A & E Department - and the flesh needs flavour adding, usually in the form of spices.  I also roast pumpkin to caramelise the sugars and this really does make a difference.

My recipe of choice is my Spicy Pumpkin Soup, best enjoyed by a log fire or around a roaring bonfire.  You see, I am just an old romantic at heart.  This recipe should serve 4 but it depends how greedy you are.

1 Kg (2.2 lbs) pumpkin
Chilli oil
3 large onions, peeled and chopped
3 cloves of garlic, peeled and chopped
Spices: 3 tsps cumin seeds, 1 tsp coriander seeds, 1 tsp caraway seeds, pinch cayenne pepper, 1 tsp ground ginger.  (Or you could use Garam Masala or curry powder)
Chicken or Vegetable stock
Salt and pepper
Crème Fraiche

Method
Cut the pumpkin into thick wedges and remove the seeds and stringy bits.  Place on a baking sheet and drizzle with chilli oil.  Roast in a hot oven for 50 minutes to 1 hour until tender and brown at the edges.  Peel the skin from the flesh and discard.

Grind the cumin, coriander and caraway seeds in a pestle and mortar.  In a heavy flameproof pot, sauté the onions and garlic in a splash of chilli oil and add the ground spices, cayenne and ground ginger.

Add the pumpkin flesh and barely cover with stock.  Simmer for about 15 minutes so all the ingredients can get to know one another. Liquidise the soup to a smooth texture, adding more stock if necessary.  Season to taste.  Serve with crème fraiche swirled on the top.  It freezes well too.

This soup can be quite fiery so add fewer spices if you wish.

Hope you like this photo.  This is Number One Daughter’s carving masterpieces.  I know I am biased but I think they are really good.  She is a florist and they form part of Arcade Flowers (Ringwood, near Bournemouth) autumn window display.  I think I maybe a Halloween convert after all. 

I said that I liked her carvings so much that I would like one of the Taj Mahal, please.  Because she is a loving, clever and dutiful daughter, she has delivered!  Here it is:

Back at last

It takes a lot to keep me out of the garden but a nasty abscess on a tooth, a pile of medications and then the inevitable extraction, kept me in the house for a week.  I only ventured down to the patch for a bit of a potter about last weekend.  It felt good to be outside at last but I was pleased we were well ahead with the autumn clear up.  My energy levels have suffered.

Still, there was hope alive in the greenhouse with the remaining two cucumber plants still producing cucumbers and new flowers.  This is amazing for the end of October.  The basil is looking a little pale and stressed (a bit like me) but is still in leaf and parsley was a cheery sight.  I had previously sowed some winter lettuce and they are up and about and getting on with things.

The gold, deep purple and white pansies I bought as plugs in September were ready to be potted up and I managed half an hour to sort them out.  They are producing lovely flowers and the colour combination is uplifting.

Doc turned the compost and we topped it off with the spent courgette plants, thanking them for their hard work.  We griddled the last of the courgettes on Sunday which was a bit sad but we try to look forward to next year’s crop.  Doc treated several of the now vacant raised beds with some of his crumbly, mature compost which he sieves to a fine finish.  It is all the richer for the chicken manure we add to it.  The remaining bins are doing well and feel warm to the touch which is a good sign.

Doc started a major overhaul of the bonfire site at the bottom of the garden.  Over the last 8 years, the ash has raised it up to quite a mound so he dug it out, sieved the ash with soil and created a new heap to use on the flower beds.  We will soon have a level bonfire site again.

The garlic, shallots and onion sets are all up and about so we took the fleece off.  It really does keep out the mice and birds so the sets can root.  The leeks and parsnips are ready to start harvesting and we still have spinach and chard, purple sprouting broccoli and lettuces.  But the most surprising latecomers are the everlasting strawberries which are truly everlasting.  They are still providing us with enough fruit to chop and add to the porridge.  ‘Flamenco’ can be described as a Good Doer.

I dared to bend down and pick a few windfall apples and headed back to the kitchen to be creative with them.  I made a lovely apple pudding cake with them and it felt good to be doing something.  There is nothing as satisfying as the warmth of the Aga and the smell of baking.  It was good therapy.

This recipe is not mine, it is from Mary Berry.  She is the Queen of baking as far as I am concerned and this recipe is easy and reliable.

Wonderful Apple Cake (serves 6)

225 g (8 ozs) self-raising flour
1 level tsp baking powder
225 g (8 ozs) caster sugar
2 eggs
½ tsp almond extract
150 g butter (5 ozs) butter, melted
350 g (12 ozs) peeled, cored and thickly sliced
25 g (1 oz) flaked almonds

Method

Lightly grease a deep 20 cm (8 inch) cake tin.  Put the flour, baking powder, sugar, eggs, almond extract and melted butter into a mixing bowl and beat for 1 minute.
Spread half this mixture into the base of the tin and pile the apples on top, mostly towards the centre.  Using 2 dessert spoons, spoon the rest of the cake mixture over the apples.  This is awkward but you need to make sure the mixture covers as much of the apple as possible.  Sprinkle with the almonds.

Using the Aga:  Position the grid shelf on the floor of the Roasting Oven and the cold Plain Shelf on the second set of runners.  Bake the cake for 20 minutes until pale golden brown.  Transfer the cold Plain Shelf (which is now very hot!) to the middle of the simmering oven and place the cake on it.  Continue baking the cake for a further 30-40 minutes or until a skewer inserted into the middle, comes out clean.  Alternatively, if you have a Baking Oven in your Aga, bake the cake on the lowest set of runners for about 1 ¼ hours until a skewer comes out clean.  If the top browns too quickly, place the cold Plain Shelf above the cake.

Using conventional cooking: Bake in a pre-heated oven 160 C, 325 F or Gas mark 3 for 1 ½ hours or until a skewer comes out clean.

You can freeze this cake but you will want to eat it there and then, just as it comes out of the oven.  Make sure you have cream or custard ready and waiting.

Autumn is really here when I make this cake and we love it.  Thank you, Mary.
(Recipe taken from Mary Berry’s New Aga Cookbook, Headline Book Publishing)

So this is autumn is it?

I like to plant some spring flowering bulbs every autumn but this year was the first time I did so wearing a sunhat. 

Before we went away on holiday Doc put away the garden furniture.  Some of the pots of marigolds were passed their best so I tossed them onto the compost heap and generally started to tidy up.  I wondered if it would be sunny enough to ripen the remaining tomatoes in the greenhouse and I was sure that the sweet peppers and cucumbers would succumb to cold night temperatures.  How wrong I was!

We returned home to find that the greenhouse was a mass of bright red tomatoes and there were new flowers on a couple of the plants.  Even the cucumbers had greened up and were fruiting again.  All the signs of mildew had disappeared and they are happily heading for the roof space.  The marigolds have joined in the fun too and have sprouted new buds.  For several days it was not just hot, but scorching hot and yet I was planting narcissi and picking up fallen apples.

I like the ritual of bulb planting.  They are such good value and are some of the first plants to emerge after the winter.  When I spot the first leaves pushing their way up through the cold earth into the light, I know spring has sprung.  Bulbs are a good investment and it is easy to build up a substantial collection over the years.

This year I have only planted shorter narcissi because Springfield is windy and some varieties flop over which irritates me.  You cannot go wrong with Tete -a -Tete and I heard someone say that theirs were over 40 years old and are still just as good.  I also like scented varieties too but you have to plant those where you can get your nose into them.

I don’t plant tulips in the ground.  They don’t perform as well as daffs in our garden - perhaps it is the winter wet.  I like to plant some in tubs to brighten up the front and back doorsteps.  A good tip is to plant them in layers in large containers to achieve a really showy display and sticking to one colour always look the more dramatic.  When the tulips have finished flowering I move them to somewhere out of the way to rest.

In a large garden it is a good tip to add focal interest on the routes you often walk.   I will place pots of narcissi and tulips by the garage door so that I can look at them when I pop to fetch a pumpkin or some onions.  I also have a pot or two by the compost heap because I regularly take the kitchen veg scraps down there.

I am also growing on some plug plants of pansies to liven up the cold, grey months.  I fell out of love with them for a few years because I was bored with the same old colours and one or two batches proved to be very poor quality.  However, this year they are back and I have chosen a contemporary colour scheme of orange, black and white. 

The hot sunny weather could not last of course and it is now considerably cooler.  But we made the most of it and enjoyed some lovely barbecues, sitting out until quite late into the evening.   This felt very odd because we did not do this even in the summer!   I am sure this bonus warmth and sunshine will help to make the winter seem a little shorter.  I don’t seem to mind that the lettuces have bolted.

Busy days on the computer

As well as keeping up to date with my own blog I am now a guest blogger for the Womens' Institute.  I am enjoying it a lot so do go and check me out if you have a moment!  The WI is a great organisation and it helps me get out of the garden once in a while. 

As for Jam and Jerusalem, well, since we do have a lot of fruit at Springfield, my jam pan is very active, but we don't sing Jerusalem very often these days.  There is lots of interesting discussion and the opportunity to make new friends, hear interesting speakers and join in on lots of trips.  So why not give it a try?

http://www.thewi.org.uk/

Trees, trees and more trees

Today, the north wind doth blow with unwelcome vengeance.  Our neighbours have lost a huge limb from a lime tree and our apples are raining down like grenades.  I have confined the chickens to their run for protection.  The gale is roaring through the trees and our bean canes have been flattened.  It is a good job the damsons are harvested – there is no way Doc could clamber up a ladder today.

The garden is definitely out of bounds at present because the trees are bending ominously and twiggy stuff is flying everywhere.  However, trees are still my favourite feature of any garden and they form the backbone to Springfield.  They are the garden’s structure and compliment the big sky and valley beyond.  I have heard it said that you look down on flowers but you look up to trees and I agree with this sentiment.  The vegetables are for the season and the pot, the flowers are the fizz but it is the trees that are awesome.  They give permanence and presence to the garden and hopefully they will be a legacy for long after we are gone. 

Since moving here we have added several varieties of apple, plum, pear and damson trees in the orchard.  We have also planted an aromatic Asian pear tree and a long row of different cordon apples.  The new dwarf rooting stocks will ensure that managing the trees and harvesting the fruit will be easier in the future. On the ornamental front we are pleased with our weeping silver pear tree (Pyrus salicifolia Pendula) and a lovely medium golden birch (Betula ‘Golden Beauty’).

There is a lovely compact Magnolia Stellata (Star Magnolia) which we associate with the arrival of spring and although the white flowers are dreamily scented, its furry buds are just as appealing.  The huge purple beech tree that is in touching distance of the house needed to be expertly surveyed.  However, being fully grown (100 years old!) and on good foundations, it was reprieved.  We love the autumn colour and are happy to put up with millions of squirrels invading us for the nuts.

We have also had some of the older trees pruned and unfortunately some thugs have had to be removed.  There was a particularly attractive conifer, with lime green tassels and attractive cones.  It was only 5 feet high when we came here but when Doc removed the tree stake, it took off at an alarming rate and grew to twice the size in a very short time.  When we discovered that its eventual height would be in excess of 90 feet it unfortunately got the chop.  Although we are fairly large, we are not a stately park and a very attractive acer looks just as good in its place!  We don’t feel guilty about this because logs are seasoned and burned on the fire to cut down on heating bills and for every tree lost we have planted at least one replacement. 

Last to go was a nameless perpendicular conifer that was nothing more but an exclamation mark at the foot of the lawn and a friend has sourced us a Cornus Kousa 'China Girl' (Chinese Flowering Dogwood) to go in its place.  This will eventually grow to a modest 20 feet and has eye-catching creamy-white bracts in June, good red and orange autumn tints to the leaves and brightly coloured, strawberry-like fruits in the autumn.

Since we are keen to keep on planting trees, on Doc and I recently visited the Bluebell Arboretum and Nursery, near Ashby de la Zouch in Derbyshire.  (Thank goodness we didn’t go today!).  Entry is free to RHS members which is a bonus and it is well worth a visit.

September days are here..

September has nothing to do with dates.  I felt it arrive on a breeze, in late August.  So, I have swapped my sun hat for a body warmer and find myself doing more tidying up than planting.  The greenhouse is blurred with condensation in the morning and the door does not need opening until lunch time.  Our daily trug is lighter now that the harvest is slowly dwindling and the last roses are clinging to the departing summer.  Once or twice I have glimpsed a yellow leaf peeping out from the sea of green and the air is thick with the smell of fallen apples.  Joy of joys, there is not much watering to do.

I love September because both the garden and the gardeners mellow.  We are not rushing anywhere and are happy to tick along for a few weeks more, in blissful harmony.   Whilst the pumpkin plants are cropping well, they are a little uncomfortable with mildew but the asters are free of it and very perky, bobbing in the breeze to attract our attention.  It is nice to have the time to pick some for the house.

Doc climbed his new tripod ladder to harvest the damsons.  They were ready much earlier this year- and we now have 20lbs of deep purple rugby ball shaped fruits stashed in the freezer, though we could have probably doubled that if the ladder was taller.  I like to make jams and chutneys in the late autumn when the dark, cold days of November need cheering up with a bubbling cauldron of spicy smells.  Doc likes to make his Damson gin for no other reason than he likes it.

There were two damson trees when we arrived at Springfield nearly 8 years ago and we see them as the elder statesmen of the garden.  They are overgrown, with huge gnarled boughs straining under the weight of age and scarred with a lifetime’s experience.  Every year, they manage to fruit in abundance but every year we think it will be the last.  Last winter the sub-zero temperatures fractured a large limb from each of them and ripped away swathes of their bark too....

But the life of the garden has to go on and we have planted a replacement Shropshire Prune and who knows when it will take over the production of our treasured damsons.  September would not be September without Doc and me warning each other to watch out for squished damsons on the path.

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......

Springfield Pride

Many gardeners are noticing that the cost of buying plants for the garden has increased.  I am no exception and with over an acre to fill, I am always trying to save money.  I propagate what I can and grow plants from seed as well as visiting plant fairs and nurseries rather than shopping in garden centres.

Last season, I was reticent about buying 3 climbing roses for a tenner at Homebase.  We had gone there to buy something else but we always have a good wander around the gardening department.

Doc suggested the roses were worth a try.  I was suspicious and concerned they may not be the best quality plants but I like a challenge and a potential bargain so we brought them home.

The roses were on the small side and I was not surprised that ‘Sunny Weeks’ died over the winter, after all it was very cold and in hindsight I don’t think I planted it in a sunny enough position. 

‘Dreamland’ has been slow to get going.  It has produced one bloom which was supposed to be deep pink but is a very vibrant red colour - I think the labelling must have gone astray.  It is a healthy plant and I think it will put on more of a show next year.  I am looking forward to someone calling round and identifying it for me.

The real winner has been ‘London Bridge’ which has grown magnificently up some trellis near the greenhouse and produced clusters of orange scented flowers which fade to pink.   There are so many flowers that at one point we could hardly see the foliage.   And the bonus is that London Bridge is clear of mildew, rust, blackspot and greenfly.

Conclusion?  Thank you Homebase!  I will be back for some more a.s.a.p.



Ginger is trying to upstage 'London Bridge'......



Round and Round the Bilberry Bushes

Last year, during a wander round the plot, a gardener friend of ours complimented us on our bilberry bushes.  “I haven’t seen bilberries in years”, he said. “They are very difficult to grow, you know.  Your acid soil is just what they like.”

Doc and I sighed simultaneously.   We vaguely knew that bilberries/whortleberries were similar to blueberries but we thought they only grew in the wild.  We thought that our eight feet row of waste high evergreen shrubs alongside the path were boring and pointless.  We had even marked them for removal if we could find a suitable replacement.   It is amazing (and embarrassing) that after seven years of gardening at Springfield, there are still plants which we have not yet identified. 

We asked our friend why we had not noticed the fruits.  He laughed.

“Well, if you don’t look, you won’t see and if you don’t net the fruits the birds and other wildlife will help themselves.”   Quite.   So we pledged to give the bushes some attention this year.
 
In early spring we observed that the bilberry bushes had dainty, sweet scented white bell shaped flowers and although they set fruits, the late May/early June harvest was very small.  The bushes are overgrown and probably in need of a good prune.  Perhaps with a bit of TLC we might be able to grow a decent crop and Doc is hoping that one day, I will present him with a pie.  This may be a little ambitious.  The fruits are very fiddly to pick.  A bilberry is smaller than a blueberry and the bushes produce single or paired berries instead of clusters.  It is more practical to harvest a few on the way down to the vegetable garden and eat them there and then.  

The bilberries are much darker in colour than blueberries and have a fuller, more intense flavour.  Despite the deep red/purple juice which stains your fingers and lips they are far superior to the Blueberry.   I am sure they have strong health giving properties but I doubt we have eaten enough to make any difference.
 
The bilberries are no longer marked for demolition.  They are neither ornamental nor overly useful for the kitchen - but they are interesting - and since they are usually found in the wild rather than in a cultivated garden, they should stay at Springfield.
 
Of course, we are now wondering what other little gems we have already dispatched to the bonfire/compost heap.  Oh dear.  We must proceed with caution.

What was the hollandaise sauce waiting for?




The apple tree asparagus - where our quest began!

Asparagus of course!  Patience and perseverance have finally rewarded us and Doc has harvested our first ever proper spears this week.  Growing this crop has given us a real sense of achievement and it tastes wonderfully fresh and summery – so much better than any we have bought from a supermarket.  There are definitely smug grins across the dinner table and smelly wee is a small price to pay for our indulgence.

When we moved to Springfield there were a few spears of asparagus growing under an old apple tree but this was not the best place for a decent crop.  We thought there would be no problem in setting up a proper asparagus bed.   However, gardening is never that simple and we were disappointed with our first batch of ‘Gijnlim’ crowns. 

Despite Doc’s careful preparation of the site, the crowns hardly grew at all and what was there was somewhat understated to say the least.  Anyway, we decided to give the bed another go the following year.  Doc re-prepared the site and I invested in yet another batch of one year old crowns.  We read up on the subject and carefully weeded the area by hand so as not to disturb the plants.  We watered and fed the crowns (even talked to them!) and in return the feathery, fern like foliage sprouted well into the autumn.  Then the awful winter arrived and temperatures fell to minus 15 degrees C.  We looked at the asparagus bed and wondered if we could have spent our money better elsewhere on the plot.

March came and went and the asparagus bed continued to look brown and bare.  Then about 3 weeks ago, Doc discovered a small, purple asparagus spear pushing through the earth.  The next day there was another one.  The next day, he found that the first one had been munched!  He set up some mouse traps and within a few days, all ten crowns were happily growing away.  We will harvest the spears for 6 weeks and hopefully next year we can extend the cropping period to 8 weeks.

We lost a treasured 10 year old bay tree during the cold winter which is very sad.  It was given to me as a cutting by a friend and a replacement will not be the same.  But in gardening, that’s how it is.  For every failure, there is a success waiting to happen.  And this week the success is the asparagus.  We are taking full advantage of it. 

Rhubarb! Rhubarb!

The hungry gap is over, thanks to the welcome return of the rhubarb.  The tightly wrapped leaves slowly unfurl in March and by the middle of April visitors are invited (bribed) to take some away.  We have a patch which is too large for our needs but it does brighten up the garden with its big, bold leaves.  The fresh greenery on the veg plot makes me feel that there is energy and abundance in the air.

Rhubarb is probably the weirdest of all the crops we grow but it is not everyone’s favourite.  Interestingly, from a botanical point of view it is actually a vegetable and related to the herb, sorrel.  Its sharp, unique flavour sends those with a sweet tooth rushing for the bag of sugar and its medicinal qualities to put it politely, have a tendency to make you want to ‘go’.  In fact for most of its 5,000 year history, dried rhubarb roots have been used for their laxative qualities rather than as a food. 

Rhubarb leaves are poisonous which also puts some people off growing it.  However at Springfield we like to live dangerously and although rhubarb contains high levels of oxalic acid (an organic poison and corrosive) it takes 5 kilos of leaves to kill a person.  There are many toxic plants in a garden, we just tread carefully and train small children not to touch plants without a grown up about.  No-one has ever accidentally (or purposefully) eaten a rhubarb leaf in our garden.

A sight for sore eyes

Lately, gardening has been both difficult for me and a distraction because I have developed a painful eye condition.  Everything is a struggle at the moment.  Whilst Doc has been busy re-laying the gravel paths, (I am convinced the gravel fairies have been steadily removing the paths, grain by grain in the night), I have been planting out peas, mange tout and lettuces and pottering in the greenhouse.   But there are a lot of jobs to do and I feel frustrated that my energy levels are lagging. 

But who could not be uplifted by the sight of the swathes of narcissi in the orchard?  Certainly not me.  As I squint and blink my way round the plot in a fog of eye drops, the daffs are bobbing in the breeze, calling for my attention.   And much as it pains me, literally, they do make me smile.  We have had an amazing display this year due I think to the abundance of melted snow which swelled the bulbs.  I have brought bunches and bunches of them into the house to continue the good cheer.

We cannot take credit for the bulbs in the orchard.  There are so many of them that it is impossible to count them and we must thank a previous generation of Springfield gardeners for the legacy.  The wild bluebells may have arrived by magic but it must have taken a long time (with aching backs) to plant the original snowdrops and daffodils.  They are naturalised now and must have multiplied tenfold over the years, far beyond the expectations of the gardeners who planted them.  But that is one of the great things about gardening.  We do things for ourselves in the here and now and we also try to leave something behind for future generations to enjoy too.

Of course the previous generations have also left us with some things we would rather not have!  Some people are cursed with a ‘swathe of leylandii’ whereas we groan over our laurels.  Whilst a splash of their bright green evergreen foliage in winter is nice (and useful in a Christmas wreath!) we do have rather a lot of them.   There is a huge one right at the bottom of the garden which is the size of a small house and if it was not for the fact it is out of sight from the rest of the garden, it would have been hacked down long ago.   As for the rest of them, we compromise with firm but gentler pruning.

So what do we hope to leave behind?  Our most heartfelt wish is that the garden remains a garden forever.  It doesn’t matter to us what type of garden it becomes, as long as it is someone’s garden and that it is valued and loved for that and for that alone.   We live in an area where ‘garden grabbing’ is the norm, where helicopters circle overhead preying on the land and where postcards are dropped through letterboxes inviting us to discuss ‘exciting opportunities’.......

There are no guarantees that Springfield will remain forever.  It may eventually be carved up and sold to the highest bidder.  All we can do is to enjoy gardening whilst we are here and try to make it a space that our descendants will want to keep – as a garden.

Wood in the Blood

Doc’s dad was a gardener and a craftsman.  He loved wood most of all and his workshop was so full of different timbers and tools that there was only a Dad-shaped space left for him to work.   He spent many happy hours (or should I say years) sawing, turning and sandpapering hundreds of wonderful objects, most of which he designed himself and sold at craft fairs.  Sometimes he would come in from the workshop and give me a hug and he even smelled of the wood – which was much nicer than any after shave lotion.   

Grandpa has left us now but we have his legacy.  There is a waste bin for every room, letter racks, a bird table and a teapot stand, to name but a few, as well as tatted runners - because he was a dab hand at anything crafty.  And they all help to keep him that bit closer to us.

Doc and his brothers have inherited the making-things gene, as have the smalls.  Doc has built all manner of timber objects from raised beds to pergolas, to shelves and he looks so contented surrounded by sawdust, listening to the rugby on the radio.  Last weekend was no exception and after just a few hours in the garage, he presented me with my new plant ladder.  It is fab.

The space near the greenhouse is sheltered and not too hot which makes it an ideal place for my little plant hospital.  I take pity on withering, sick plants and take great satisfaction in nurturing them back to health.  For years these plants have resided on a table and two chairs but having seen a plant theatre in a National Trust Garden, I decided I could give my patients a more attractive environment.  In fact it is now so attractive that I am using any 'spare beds in the ward' for other plants too!

Plant ladders are very popular now because gardens are smaller and they make use of vertical space.  However, Doc said he would like to make one and it would be cheaper.  In fact, having utilised some bits and pieces in the garage, it only cost him £15. 

There is sense in the make-it and mend-it trend and there is nothing better than being given a handmade gift. I will treasure it always and Grandpa would be proud of him.

NOS has built a couple of very smart raised beds and recently he built a large wooden trough.  He now has his eye on the plant ladder and I expect he will make one too.  No doubt there will be one or two design modifications because fathers and sons are a bit like that, aren’t they?  And just like his Grandpa and his Dad, he will enjoy making it.