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.