Irritating Onions

We have grown onions for years.  We plant the sets in the autumn, they usually grow away quite happily through the winter and spring and need little attention, apart from some weeding. They don’t attract pests, they store well (if dried out properly after harvesting) and are very useful in the kitchen.

But some years we get caught out and this is one of them.  Our onions have bolted which means they have gone to seed.  This is very annoying as it reduces the size of the bulb and the onions won’t store. 

We grow onions from heat treated sets because they are less likely to bolt than those grown from seed. Some varieties are less prone to bolting than others and I always buy sets which have the AGM mark.  None of this seems to have mattered this year!

Onions are a biennial plant which means that in the ‘wild’ they would form bulbs the first year and then set seed the next.  However, if there are strong fluctuations in temperature eg winter, then a warm spell followed by another cold spell, the onions think they are in their second year.  So they set seed.  We did have a warm spell at the end of the winter and then it turned very cold so our onions must have become very confused.

Another reason onions bolt is lack of water but we do monitor this carefully and the beds have lots of organic matter to help retain moisture. 

As soon as I saw the thickening stems - a sure indication that there is trouble in the onion bed - I was ready for action.  When the seed head started to form, I nipped them off but the onions still won’t be very good.  It is damage limitation, we might get a little bit of onion to chop up. 

The shallots in the raised bed are still okay and we should have a reasonable crop from them.  If I had the choice, I would prefer to lose the shallots simply because they are fiddlier to prepare!  I suppose I should conduct a trial to see which onions suit our local climate the best but I am not that organised, nor do I have the time.  In any case, the weather every year is so variable.

Leeks can occasionally bolt too and although we find the odd one or two trying to set seed, they are fine.   So, fingers crossed, this year, apart from some shallots, our alliums will be long and lean rather than short and bulbous. 

Salad Days

There was a time when I used tweezers to pluck my eyebrows but middle age has caught up with my eyesight and daring to do this task without wearing my specs is an accident waiting to happen.  Thankfully, there is another use for the tweezers and it is a very therapeutic one at that.

My tweezers are the tool of choice when thinning out seedlings and I keep them handy in an old tin in the shed.  It is great to park the wheelbarrow and spend half an hour sitting in the comfort of the greenhouse with some trays of seedlings on my lap and a cuppa at my feet. 

Most gardeners would like to grow on all the seeds that germinate but sacrifices have to be made.  If we reduce overcrowding and select only the strongest seedlings, the results are far better. So, I always set about this task positively, knowing I am being cruel to be kind. 

This morning I thinned out trays of Lattuga (Maravilla de Verano Canasta) and Misticanza Di Radicchi.  They are Italian seeds and I bought them for 50p a packet in the reduced bin at the local garden centre.  I have no idea what they are but the pictures look ‘lettucy’.  I am hopeful I have a bargain on my hands.

There is a rhythm to plucking out seedlings which is very soothing.  As I worked up and down the trays this morning, I could feel the warmth of the sunshine on my back and there was sound coming from every corner of the garden - and beyond.  Sometimes, as gardeners we get lost in the riot of colour and texture or the hurriedness of our work and we forget to listen to our gardens. 

The hens chirruped softly to one another, with just the occasional squawk from Ginger to warn the others that a cat was prowling in the long grass.  Pigeons cooed lovingly, there was a bird I could not identify, who rattled his call across the valley and all the time there was a gentle soundtrack of cars swishing on the distant main road.  I was startled when a bumble bee buzzed and tapped a window pane rather crossly, as he looked for the way out and calmed by a child laughing from the other side of the hedge.  I could have stayed in my little sanctuary all day but with the trays finished and my mug empty, it was time to get back to the real work.  But it was good while it lasted.

What a difference a week makes!

One minute I was wearing my gloves and fleece and the next I was reaching for a sunhat and sandals.  The garden is not phased, quite the contrary in fact.  As soon as there was warmth and sunshine, everything whooshed.  Roses started their ascent up the pergolas, the courgette plants trebled in size and the grass is now soft and lush with that exquisite toe-tickle texture.

The star of the week has to be the clematis Montana Alba at the front of the house.  It is all the better for Doc’s hard prune last year, otherwise it tends to be bare at the bottom with just a cap of flowers at the top.   

The hosta by the back door has put on so much growth it is already obscuring its pot.  I love the contrast between the yellow and green, the leaves are glossy and waxy and I always give them a little fondle when I pop out to the dustbin.

In the kitchen, we are making the most of the asparagus which needs cropping every couple of days.  This is its first full year of cropping and we love it.  However, if the yield continues like this for several weeks, I may run out of recipe ideas.  Doc is holding a fraction of what he actually picked the other day!  However, we won’t give it away, it is far too precious and delicious.

This is the first year I am trying to grow outdoor tomatoes and only have a few pots in the greenhouse.  We are going away for up a fortnight in the summer (birth of first grandchild!) and I am hoping outdoor plants will need less attention outside.  However, it is very much an experiment and for an experienced greenhouse tomato grower, I found it very strange planting the plants outside.  I am growing good outdoor 'doers':  Amateur, Vilma, Red Alert, Garden Pearl and Money Maker – so fingers crossed that we get a crop that does not need to be made into green tomato chutney.

These two raised beds have a new arch  which is another experiment.  I did not get round to sowing sweet peas to climb up it so I am trying some yellow runner beans for interest.   It has been somewhat of an afterthought but we will be more organised next year and plan the area properly.

We wanted warmth and we got it but the intense heat today is taking some getting used to.  Could somebody out there please turn the thermostat down – just a little, please? 

They're English!

Just as the daffodils have faded and flopped in the orchard, the bluebells make their entrance and I am always asked if ours are native English ones or Spanish interlopers.   I am pleased to report we have good old fashioned English bluebells.

There is a difference in the flower shape - the imposters have open, shallow bells but the English ones have long thin bells with curled back petals.  Also, the Spanish bluebell has a more erect stem but for English bluebells the weight of the flowers pull the stems over in a droop. 

We have droop!

Spanish bluebells hybridise with English ones which is a problem but whether you have Spanish or English bluebells, they can behave like weeds.  They have a habit of sprouting up everywhere in huge numbers and if you dig them up and put them in the compost heap, they grow happily in there too.  We are lucky at Springfield in that we can give them the elbow room they need but in our last garden, they nearly took over the flower beds.  At first we tolerated them and by the time we left, we hated them! 

However, you can fall in and out of love with plants and because here the bluebells are not a threat, we can relax and enjoy them. 

I cannot wax as lyrically as Emily Bronte does in the Bluebell Poem but I do take issue with her about bluebells being summer flowers. .....

The Bluebell is the sweetest flower
That waves in summer air:
Its blossoms have the mightiest power
To soothe my spirit's care.......

I think of them as spring flowers but perhaps they are the first of the summer flowers.......?

Mr and Mrs Robin Evicted

It seems that Robins are a current theme.  As well as the pair in the front garden, there is also a pair in the back garden and a few weeks ago, they tested my patience.  They are usually quite sweet, perching on a pergola until I have turned the soil over and then swooping down for a ready prepared worm buffet.  But a while ago, one of them flew into the potting and it took me ages to get it outside again and no sooner had I succeeded than the other one went straight back in.  This was repeated over a couple of days so I had to remember to keep shutting the shed every time I went in for something which was very inconvenient.

I could not understand what the attraction was in the shed but I do now.  Today when I was looking for the Azalea feed, I found a perfectly formed nest containing a clutch of 6 creamy white eggs, nestled between the Tomato feed and Potato fertiliser.  I felt very sad and guilty.  The couple had not been able to tend the nest because I had kept shutting the door to keep them out!  I hope they managed to set up home somewhere else and that there is still time to raise a family. 

Location, Location, Location is everything.....

Fagus Sylvatica Purpurea - Awesome!

Our giant beech tree has just come into leaf.  It is late this year due to the prolonged cold and rain during the spring; however, it has caught up with itself and delighting us with colour to lift our mood.  The red hue will gradually change to dark purple and in the autumn it is one of the last injections of colour for a garden intent on settling down for winter.

We call it our Monster.  Our house is over a hundred years old and when we moved here we asked a tree surgeon to survey it.  He said that it pre-dates the house and it was likely that the buildings were built around it.  If you look at our house from across the valley, the Monster stands out like a beacon in landscape, dwarfing everything around it.   I wonder if it can be seen by a satellite!!

I have read that beech trees can live for up to 400 years so subsequent generations will be able to enjoy its majesty too.  I hope they do but I fear a descendant who likes a simple life may decide enough is enough - because the Monster brings responsibility, maintenance and enough leaves to keep the RHS supplied with leaf mould.  Worst of all, it produces piles of prickly seed pods which hungry squirrels bury and forget about.  The seeds take root everywhere and Doc and I sometimes have a competition to see who can pull up the most beech saplings from the most unusual places.  Come to think of it, I could pot them on and sell them... (Would you like one?)

But despite the work, it would be a shame to lose our Monster.  Houses are built with much smaller gardens these days and there is room for the beech here – just.  It is usually recommended as a specimen tree in parks or large estates because it can grow to 49 m (160 ft) tall with a 3 m (10 ft) diameter trunk . We have had it pruned from time to time because our neighbours don’t like its branches scratching on their bedroom window at night.  We have to keep a close eye on it in winter too because some of the larger branches may weaken in the strong winds.  We like our BFG but we don’t want it in our bedroom either.

Horticultural books suggest that gardeners do not try growing anything underneath a large beech tree's boughs because the roots are shallow and take the moisture from the soil.  However, we have a healthy bed of hellebores, bulbs and solomon's seal to name but a few....obviously the Monster has not read the books.

Occasionally, we have a barbecue, sit on the terrace and listen to the breeze gently swishing through its leaves.  The rustling, the swaying and sunlight shimmering on the leaves is hypnotic and soothing, almost lyrical.  Wine helps of course because otherwise we would sit there contemplating how many barrow loads of leaves are clinging to its branches.