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.