4 Apr 2020

End of March in the Veg Patch


Narrow garden within a low wall, with soil for growing food plants, surrounded by paving.
Hardly a vision of beauty, although this space will fill up fast.

Isn't it lovely the way our gardens are giving us hope and keeping us sane, carrying on regardless while the world beyond the garden gate is mostly off limits? Even if the weather isn't good, I like to have a wander around the gardens here most days and feel much calmer for it. I'm lucky that I have two gardens to look after - the veg patch and the car park garden - plus a few borders including the triangle by the washing lines which is mostly maintenance free (although there are some gaps crying out for new plants).


Pear tree covered in white spring blossom
Pear blossom - always a picture in springtime!


I haven't done much to the garden in the past month, beyond wandering around, secateurs in hand, noting what needs doing and occasionally snipping bits off trees and plants, so the veg patch is a long way from being a vision of loveliness.  This is not to say that things aren't happening ...   oooh, no.  Indeed the area is a sea of frothiness from pear and plum blossom - even the quince tree is studded with the little peppermint stick coloured whorls of blossom buds.

Quince tree with small candy stripe buds and green leaves

Under the quince tree (Oh how I wish I hadn’t planted it in such a windy corner!), sweet cicely leaves are coming up ready to sweeten stems of rhubarb. I’m not convinced that particular trick works but the eventual seeds are a delicious hit of liquorice. And while the leaves are young and tender, I should really try adding a few to my salad.

Young green serrated leaves of Sweet Cicely herb pushing through soil.


Ransoms and rhubarb ... always sounds to me like the title of a Mills and Boon novel. Romance among the rhubarb?  Perhaps not.  I would say I should get out more but, current climate, maybe not.

Wild garlic and rhubarb leaves growing in a raised wall border.

Anyhow, I digress.  Skinny stems of Champagne rhubarb (top half of the above photo) have been ready to pick since the beginning of the month, as have the wild garlic leaves (bottom of photo). For making wild garlic pesto, the best method I’ve found is on Instagram from Julius Roberts (@telltalefood); he comes from a cheffy background so has some really good food prep videos, including the pesto one - his top tip is to make the garlic leaves less pungent by briefly wilting them first. (Worth checking out Julius' account for his fabulous singing lurchers, Loki and Zephyr.)

I’m really pleased to see the return of the Siruparber rhubarb, given to me by Lubera. It didn’t come up at all last year (the second year after planting) so I thought that was it, game over. But, here it is again! Super! The leaves are still tiny and the stalks shorter than should be expected so I’ll probably just mulch and let it grow this year so it can gather strength. And try to keep it well watered. The soil in the veg patch has already dried out and cracked after a couple of rain free weeks.

small rhubarb plant growing
Still too small to photograph the beautiful red stems

The broad beans are flowering really well now and are really rather beautiful. I haven’t grown this type of hardy broad bean before so it will interesting to see whether there’s a compromise between taste and timing.

Broad bean plant; the white sweet pea type flowers have black and pink markings

What else?  As it’s still very early in the season, I have the usual kales and a few herbs to pick from; other than that it’s a waiting game of watching buds form.

Pale green  trumpet flower on Honeyberry plant

One of my honeyberry plants (Lonicera caerulea) has died, the other is still in its large pot but flowering.  It never produces much fruit so I’m thinking this would be a good time to plant it as part of the edible fence/hedge in the car park garden. I might have left this too late but at least it would be reliably watered with lovely soil for its roots to explore.

I’ve noticed tiny flower buds on the red gooseberry bush. This is a fruit I really look forward to but has really nasty thorns so, knowing that I'll lose some of the precious summer fruit, I’ve pruned back the branches that were growing too close to the ground as well as some of the branches growing into the centre of the bush.  I hadn’t realised that lower gooseberry branches will root into the soil - I do now, and could have made several new plants!

I’m still waiting for the apple trees to blossom, the cherry trees are almost there and there’s no sign of life from the redcurrant. Raspberry canes are shooting up having been pruned back to the ground last year. One cane near the quince tree has even got buds on it; that took me by surprise but should be okay as the veg patch is generally frost free.

Can I just say that I’m a bit fed up with the cherry trees? They’re both sour Morello cherry trees which is pretty useless for eating fresh (but useful in a chutney) but, more to the point, last year were infested with fruit fly larvae which look like teeny maggots. That was not a happy discovery.  I’m not sure how (or even whether it’s possible) to prevent that happening again and am wondering about replacing at least one of the cherry trees with another apple tree.  I'll just park that thought until the autumn as it's probably difficult to get hold of a new tree at the moment.

What I'll be doing in April:
As usual in this very busy month, I'll be sowing as many seeds as I have room for!  I'll be getting squashes, courgettes, beetroot, beans, calabrese, brussels sprouts and purple sprouting broccoli sown in modules ready to plant out in a few weeks.

I've managed to squeeze an order in for sweet corn seeds so will sow those as soon as they arrive. Otherwise, I think it might be a case of weeding and enjoying the sunshine promised for this weekend!

Wishing everyone good health and gardening,

Caro x



30 Mar 2020

Sowing seeds for a salad garden

The internet and social media are full of tales of people turning to gardening, and food growing in particular, during the lockdown.  Most crops take a while to be ready for picking but one of the fastest and easiest to grow is salad, especially baby leaves, herbs and cut and come again. This post is anecdotal but with, I hope, some practical advice on how I get my salad garden underway, starting with my balcony and raised beds.

flowering broad bean plants
Just beautiful! Autumn sown broad beans flowering in the veg patch this week.

This has been an extraordinary week, taking with one hand and giving with the other. We’re now confined to barracks (as my ex-military brother would say) but that loss of freedom has been tempered with a birthday (mine), a broken washing machine (alas, also mine), free plants, the start of the salad garden, a replacement washing machine and five days of good weather.  And that’s enough excitement for one week, thank you.

In a moment of super nerdy practicality, I’ve gathered up all my seeds and listed them in a spreadsheet on my iPad. I hope you’re impressed.  It makes me feel super organised as I can flip open my iPad rather than rummaging through my over stuffed seed box.

spreadsheet showing list of salad seeds


This has been a revelation as I can now place seeds in alphabetical order, both on ‘paper’ and in the box, and see any gaps at a glance. (So far, only aubergines and sweet corn seem to be missing - I’m better prepared than I thought!)  Once I’ve finished inputting all the ‘sow by’ dates, there will be no excuse for sowing too late. Theoretically.

Both my new Veg Trugs have now been built and filled. (Thank you to friends and my lovely son for help with that - the trugs can be built by one person but it’s easier and more fun with two.)  I used multi-purpose compost for these (the cheapest and nearest option as 420 litres were needed for each trug; that’s 9 x 50 litre bags or, put another way, a LOT.) Once filled, I had to soak the mix several times over to make sure it would hold some moisture for sowing. I've had better compost than this but, as they say, needs must.

Veg trugs in evening sunshine
And just in case all that newly laid compost proved too enticing for the local cat population, it was covered over with a layer of fleece.  This will stay in place to keep my seeds/seedlings warm once sown; very important as even in the mild London microclimate the nights are still chilly.


selection of seed packets for growing salads

So now for some fun! I want to grow a range of salad leaves in the trugs as they have the advantage of presenting a mountainous climb for adventuring molluscs.  I love that the V-shape of the trugs allows for deeper rooted plants in the middle.  I’m thinking carrots, coriander (the deep tap root is edible), tomatoes and basil (a good companion plant) in the centre with endive, lettuce, mustard frills, spinach and lambs lettuce on either side.  Perhaps also with some nasturtiums trailing prettily over the side. (Expect lots of photos as the weather gets warmer.)

Radishes can be sown, not too thickly, between the carrots as they’ll grow more quickly and can be pulled before the carrots mature. I’ve grown Amsterdam Sprint in the past as the early teeny-tiny carrots add a bit of fun to a plate of salad. Unless I’ve munched them on the walk home as they’re so delicious.

Lettuce, rocket, spinach, radish, carrots, spring onions, and lambs lettuce will all be sown outside this week; the less hardy plants - tomatoes, chillies, bell peppers - have been sown indoors into my new rubber module trays.  Filled with compost, watered well, two/three seeds to a cell, topped off with a little more compost, watered gently again, and then forgotten about until they germinate, when they’ll be moved to the windowsill until ready to pot on.

Am I late in doing this?  No.  The sun may have been shining but it's still early in the season with plenty of time to sow seeds and a very real chance of frosty nights to come.

Black rubber seed growing module trays

I’m slightly in love with these trays. I bought them from the UK-based Plastic Free Gardening website after seeing them on social media and liked that they’re made from sustainable rubber. Buying them supports Sri Lankan rubber plantations that would otherwise be turned over to the production of palm oil or beef production. (As we know, this is A Good Thing.) Charles Dowding has given them the thumbs up, (his testimonial is here, opens in new window); plus, they’re nice and squishy so it should be easy to remove the plug plants when they’re ready. And they’ll last far far longer than plastic module trays. In the past I’ve used both polystyrene and plastic trays and would carry on using them if they hadn’t already fallen apart so this feels like good timing to have found a better replacement. (And, no, I haven’t been paid to sing their praises.)

Meanwhile, on my tiny balcony, I’ve been sowing micro-leaves. This is just a fancy name for growing all sorts of leafy veg to pick as baby shoots; at that stage the leaves pack a punch, flavour wise. I have wooden seed trays that I bought years ago but any pot will do. I’ve used scavenged fruit boxes from the greengrocer and polystyrene fish boxes (with holes punched in the sides) before now or used washed plastic trays (the ones with drainage holes) from my recycling as they’re a perfect size for a kitchen windowsill.

Plastic trays don't need to be lined but, as my wooden trays have gaps at the bottom, to stop soil falling through I line my trays with a couple of sheets of newspaper before I add compost (seed or multi-purpose). Then I water  well and then let the compost drain through, gently sprinkle the seeds on top so they’re slightly spaced out (geographically not mentally), top with another light sprinkling of compost, and gently firm the soil. Within the week, shoots will show; in another fortnight or so, I’ll be picking tiny leaves to top my salad, add to couscous or other grains, or in a sandwich or omelette. Or nibbling the pickings as I step out onto the balcony to water my plants in the morning.

Perfect seeds for micro leaves are peas, salad leaves, rocket, mustard, pak choi, radish, basil, coriander, mizuna, kale ... I’m still experimenting but most seeds prove to be tasty. And in true Blue Peter style, here’s one I did earlier (two weeks ago). They're just beginning to sprout true leaves so with another week of mild, sunnyish weather, I'll be able to start picking.

Micro seed leaves in yellow tray of soil
This tray is from Elho and has a protective cover.  Very useful.


Until next time friends, stay well!

Caro x






25 Mar 2020

Chuffed as a weed #1

Green fresh leaves of sweet woodruff growing out of an old wall
Sweet Woodruff or Galium odoratum.
A useful and vigorous ground cover with scrambling stems that will root where they touch the soil
(or even push their way through the mortar of a brick wall) 


This time last year I was studying planting design on a course based in the Royal Botanic Gardens at Kew. There, I had the enormous pleasure of meeting Tony Kirkham, Kew’s Head of Arboretum, Gardens and Horticulture. Basically, he’s the tree man and his knowledge of, and boundless enthusiasm for, trees has earned him a worldwide reputation, the VMH and, earlier this year, a well-deserved MBE.  You might be more familiar with the name if you watched 'My Passion for Trees', Judi Dench's 2012 tv series where Tony introduced Judi to his favourite tree, a 1500 year old yew tree in a Surrey churchyard. (You Tube clip here.) To my mind, I will always think of him as one of the nicest, funniest and friendliest people I’ve met.

But I digress. This post is about weeds, not trees, and I mention Tony here because he used a phrase that has stuck with me ever since. Describing his reaction to a bit of luck that came his way on a tree buying trip, he said “Eeh, I was chuffed as a weed.”  Tony is Lancashire born; is this a saying used up North?  I’d never heard it before but, oh my goodness, it makes so much sense when you think about it.

I was brought up on ‘Bill and Ben, the Flowerpot Men’ with their pal, Little Weeeeed, so it puts a big smile on my face to think of a tiny plant seed finding a nice crack in the pavement and thinking, “ooh yes, now this looks like the perfect spot to settle in. I'm well chuffed.” Of course, they don’t.  (I’m not that silly!) But weeds are plants that have developed the resilience to thrive in some fairly inhospitable environments -  or, more usually, in the soil among your prize petunias where they’ll take more than their fair share of available nutrients.  Survival of the fittest, horticulture style.

Now I'm not suggesting that we leave all our weeds to flourish but some deserve to be left alone. And as we’re all concentrating on surviving the virus raging across the world (and that’s the only reference I’ll be making to it), I thought I’d cheer up future Wednesdays with a mid-week look at some of the plants that have brought a moment of wonder and beauty into my world.  Chuffed as a weed, indeed!

Stay safe, everyone x


16 Mar 2020

Bursting into life

Bumblebee foraging on purple pansy
Good things in small packages - sitting in the sun this morning, watching this bumblebee forage.

This past week the garden has been a welcome relief from all the doom and gloom of the coronavirus outbreak (currently 22 cases in my home borough of Camden). It’s been really heartening to see plants bursting into life, a good distraction from the scary turmoil in the outside world.

The gardens that I look after here have always provided a place of peace, calm and sanctuary for me - yes, even with slugs, aphids, and foxes - and I’m grateful that I’m able to work outside in the fresh air, listen to birdsong, watch plants grow and think about the seasons ahead. (Especially important as I live in a second floor flat and am otherwise surrounded by bricks, mortar and concrete. Urban living!)

It also feels very relevant to have a space to grow food in these uncertain times and the weather feels warm enough to start sowing.  I’ve started several more trays of micro leaves - lettuce, herbs, salad leaves - on my balcony and this week will sow tomatoes and chillies indoors plus peas, carrots, spinach and more broad beans outside.

Broad beans starting to show white flowers

Speaking of broad beans, the plants that I sowed into modules last November and planted out in December are now flowering! Having never overwintered broad beans before, I don’t know if this is unusual or early thanks to a mild winter, but it’s pretty thrilling. Such are the simple things that please me.

Looking down onto the sprouting centre of purple sprouting broccoli
Ridiculously excited at the sight of those purple buds

A neighbour kindly gave me a couple of brassicas last summer. Unsure of exactly what they were, I thought they would look pretty among the perennials in the car park garden. Turns out that they’re Purple Sprouting Broccoli - quite small as they were probably in modules for too long, but they’re definitely sprouting.

Early white blossom on plum tree
The plum trees are the first to blossom, but the pears are not far behind

As is the blossom on the plum tree.  I noticed this fragile flower as I wandered the garden in a fairly forceful wind; I don’t reckon its chances much but at least there will be more blossom to follow, this time I hope in sunshine. The weather this week looks very promising. (And bumblebees are foraging, see top photo taken this morning. That bee eventually buzzed off towards the plum blossom.)


Paved cul-de-sac after being tidied
It doesn't look much now but watch this space!
And, finally, some good/bad/good news.  Last weekend I cleaned up an unused south facing paved space thinking it would be perfect for growing sun loving veg. The next day I spotted several empty but used Veg Trugs outside a closed down day care centre and was given permission by the owners to take them for my new space.  Hurrah! I thought. But the following day someone had stolen the best ones, leaving only those that had seen much better days. I won’t repeat what I said at the time, suffice to say that my faith in human nature plummeted.



But, undeterred, as is my nature, I contacted Veg Trug. They had already very kindly offered to donate new liners for the abandoned trugs - I explained what had happened and asked whether they would let me have a discount on buying a couple of new Veg Trugs? (I babysit to fund the gardens here.) Within the hour, the answer was yes. And, sometime today, two beautiful new Veg Trugs will be delivered for my new community space.

But that’s not all.  Friends went to collect the remaining old Veg Trugs and their carpenter son has said he’ll replace and rebuild the trugs for me. This is why I love living where I do, the community here can be so supportive and kind. Two very important traits in today’s world.

I hope that story has left you all with some optimism for the times we live in. Safe to say that during this virus pandemic, I am concerned about my family and friends, particularly as they're so far away. So I'm wishing you all good health, staying safe and virus free; remember to wash your hands, take vitamin C, think of the people around you and grow some greens, even if that's just pea shoots in a pot on your doorstep or balcony.

Caro xx

4 Mar 2020

Rhubarb, rhubarb, Let's talk

A neighbour’s rhubarb plant in mid February.  It’s going to get a lot bigger...

Growing rhubarb is easy, you say? A few years ago, I would have agreed, having grown an enormous Glaskins Perpetual from seed.  That plant has now gone, dug up with misplaced confidence that the other two Champagne rhubarb plants would more than suffice - umm, once they got going.

As if to thwart me, those two have never flourished. A handful of tantalising petite red stems appear in February ... and then, every year, it’s game over.  The stems wilt before they get big enough to make a decent compote ... or fruit fool ... or crumble. Or the crowns run to seed with, I have to admit, rather magnificent flower stalks.

I think I know what the problem is.

I trusted the advice that I’d read in some random internet space that rhubarb plants are happy to grow in light shade and so, foolishly, planted the Champagne crowns in the spaces next to my apple and cherry trees. With hindsight, the source of their struggles should have been obvious. They have to compete with the trees for water (I have mentioned the lack of a tap in this area, haven’t I?) and, I dare say, the trees are hogging any goodness that may linger in the soil. Plus, shade.

Time for a change.

At least one of these plants will be moved into the light.  A nice sunny spot in the veg patch with rich earth awaits. Or will do once I can get into the garden, weather permitting.

Meanwhile, I have permission to pick from a neighbour’s plant - the gorgeous beast in the top photo. Every year it produces a wealth of vibrantly red delicious stems, a few of which find their way into my kitchen.  I had the first poached stems of many a couple of weeks ago; they were yummy.

Pink rhubarb stems with their leaves on a bench



So, here’s little tip for poaching rhubarb.  Instead of using sugar to sweeten the stems, use a sweet jelly such as redcurrant (or other fruit).  I used some of the quince jelly I made last autumn and finished the compote with some pieces of stem ginger and some of the liquid from the jar.  It was very very good - not least for being my first harvest this year. Isn’t gardening just wonderful!


2 Mar 2020

A visit from the Marmalade Cat

I'm not a keeper of cats although they do seem to show up regularly in my life. Many of the local households in this small corner of Camden Borough are home to a number of cats, many of whom patrol the grounds of the flats where I live.  I like to think of them as Top Cat and The Gang. (Remember them? Sixties cartoon hilarity from Hanna-Barbera.)



And the Top Cat in this little gang is definitely the marmalade cat in the above photo.  But there’s also a black/white Piebald (there used to be two, one of which was aptly named 'Bubbles'), one Calico cat (black, white, ginger), a tabby and two black cats with white socks and chest - shall we call them Tuxedo cats?   But it was Lady Marmalade who availed herself of a patch of sheltered sunshine in the garden. (Cats, like people, love to soak up the warmth of a sunny spot.)

I happened to glance out of my second floor window as she sat, eyes closed and face lifted towards the warm sunshine; I have a sneaking regard for this very aloof cat, she reminds me of my grandmother's beloved elderly ginger tom; he was a cat who spent most of his days sleeping, often on the chair outside her kitchen door. And, because my siblings and I were still very young, the temptation to stroke him was ever present. This, of course, was forbidden as much for our sakes as his - he was a cat who did not like to be fussed over. Except by Gran, of course.

Meanwhile, back in the garden, I watched Lady Marmalade move towards the spring border with intent. She slid gracefully around the silver birch and carefully hoofed it through the hellebores. But then a lifted paw started to explore the soil; she'd found the very (freshly dug) spot where I'd recently transplanted a dormant peony. To make matters worse, this area in the spring border is full of snowdrops and awaiting the imminent arrival of crocuses. Aarrgh!

I raced downstairs hoping to head off a potential disaster but, thankfully, all was well - sort of. The area had already been claimed by foxes (need I say more?), no further damage was done, and my feline friend sauntered slowly off the spot to sit facing away from me next to the watering can before slipping out through a gap under the privet hedge.


So now I know where to reinforce the fence, although I’m becoming accustomed to the idea that the local Top Cat gang are enjoying their visits to the garden.  I’m planning on growing Cat Grass and Nepeta, aka Catnip, this summer - I’m hoping it will keep them out of the flower borders where their presents of buried treasure are somewhat less than welcome!



By the way .... I actively discourage cats from exploring the veg patch garden by using a makeshift netting fence to barricade the plot. I arrived at this solution after years of frustration at finding cat poo hidden close to my root veg. That was seriously unpleasant and I learned that all gardeners need to be aware of the health risks cat poo can pose to children and other vulnerable people. Best to shift it as soon as possible; I carry a poo bag in my gardening tool bag.



29 Feb 2020

That sweet smell of winter

Let's face it, progress is slow in the veg garden even in the mildest of winters - those little plants know that they’re better off snuggled into a protective blanket of soil, slugs notwithstanding. But if there’s nothing much for me to see, at least there are lots of lovely smells at this time of year.

Close up of Viburnum pink flowers with brick building in the background

It wasn’t a day to be outside for long on Friday (or any day this past week) but, walking back from dropping off my recycling, I found myself drawn into the garden by a delicious smell wafting over from the stand of Viburnum x bodnantense 'Dawn'. And as I tugged a branch towards me to better appreciate its scent close up, I heard the angry buzzing of a disturbed bumble bee. A positive sign as bumbles are the first bees to wake up in spring and good to know that there's food for them.

Someone (not me) planted two of the shrubs a long time ago and their scruffiness irritates me hugely for most of the year. They haven’t been maintained by the contract gardeners so have grown in height and width to cast deep shade over the border until their leaves drop in late autumn.  This shrub should be maintained by thinning out the old wood at the base, thereby allowing the new shoots room to grow; I frequently harbour thoughts of heading out with my pruning saw - my type of guerrilla gardening.

Pink flowering Viburnum shrubs in winter

But with the appearance of their dainty pink flowers in early winter, all is forgiven.  The perfume is delicious but strangely doesn’t work indoors (for me, anyway), much better to appreciate it wafting on the wind.

The next border along is a thicket. Our community gardening group (as was) were given this area for food growing but resisted clearing it straightaway; it was a jungle even then but we told ourselves that at least tenants overlooking the gardens had some greenery to look out onto until the food garden was less bare earth. Now I worry that by sorting it out I’ll be destroying a perfect habitat for this urban garden’s wildlife.

See what I mean? Thicket.


It’s now been taken over by Petasites, another (very invasive) winter flowering plant with a strong baby-talc perfume. Staring at it, I started to think about winter plants that brighten up the garden with their scent.

I wrote about Petasites in depth five years ago, in January 2015. At that time I had plans to conquer it, dig it up and relocate a few plants.  Needless to say, that's still on my to do list.  But there's an idea tickling my thoughts - how would it be if the Petasites were transplanted into the Viburnum border?  Good, eh? There might be a bit of sensory overload on the olfactory front, and I'd have to rescue my beautiful ferns first (a very lovely bronze Dryopteris erythrosora), but it’s a plan. When the weather is warmer though.

Stalks of pink Petasites flowers above lily pad leaves

It's would be a massive challenge as the plant has spread the length of its 30ft long home border.  That whole area needs culling; it's a thicket of tangled dogwood, hebe, Elaeagnus, Choysia, ivy and honeysuckle ... which brings me to my next winter smelly.

Gold coloured Honeysuckle flower in the rain

This, I love. Like roses, I find it impossible to pass by without a not-so-surreptitious sniff of the scent. The flowers are edible with a sweet burst of nectar at the base; they’re not known as Honey suckle for nothing!  This is a bog standard honeysuckle which has flowered courtesy of a mild winter but there is a winter flowering honeysuckle - Lonicera purpusii-  that has highly scented white flowers from early winter onwards.  Duly noted for when this border is conquered.

And finally (thanks for bearing with me), I have to mention Daphne odora ‘Aureomarginata’. The clue is in the name, a most beautiful shrub with a not-to-be-ignored intense perfume.

Large Daphne shrub covered with pale pink blossom

I walk in olfactory heaven past a clutch of these most days, planted in a long roadside border outside council flats. I can’t help but marvel at this municipal border as it’s planted up with the most desirable of plants - the above mentioned Daphnes, a swathe of large pale green Hellebore foetida, Euphorbia rigida, grasses, Brachyglottis (aka Senecio or Daisy Bush) and Sarcococca, another excellent shrub for scent and wildlife.

Sarcococca with white flowers and deep blue berries
Sweetly scented flowers and berries for birds - what’s not to love!


Both Daphne and Sarcococca are shrubs that are sadly lacking in the gardens here but I’ve Google searched for a supplier several times and my fingers are creeping closer to the ‘click to buy’ button, paid for with my jar of babysitting money, saved for exactly this purpose. Watch this space .... !

28 Feb 2020

It's tulip time!

Red and white striped mini tulips flowering in February


Hallelujah! Winter is almost over, she shouted.  Okay, that may be stretching it a bit but there are definite sightings of tulip buds rising above the leaves in the veg patch and mini tulips in flower in the car park garden.  This is most unusual, even if we are only days away from March, the meterological start of the spring season.  It all seems a bit too soon, to have tulips in February; I mean, the snowdrops are barely bowing out and daffodils have just hit their stride. So these tulips are most unexpected - but after a long wet winter, I'll take whatever signs of imminent spring I can get.

Emerging tulip bud covered in raindrops
One of the tall tulips in the Fruit Tree border of the Veg Patch.
Hmmm, thought I’d dug all the yellow ones up ... 


A fact I discovered just recently was that short tulips flower earlier than their taller relatives. Please tell me I'm not the last to know! This I find eminently sensible (even if they do normally wait until late March/April to bloom). Wintry weather, and certainly the wild weather we've had this year, would ravage the taller tulips (the ones the foxes don't trample first!) but I was still surprised to see several of these red/yellow mini tulips ready to open at the weekend.  Especially as I planted only tall tulips in this bed last year and most of those were transferred to pots when I needed the space for my gooseberry bushes. Maybe, like me, they've just got shorter with age.



19 Feb 2020

Springing up in the veg patch



There hasn't been a lot to crow about in the winter veg patch but with the sun shining this morning, I found myself muttering 'This is a lovely day' (despite a 'fresh breeze' as the Met Office like to call it).  A little bit of sunshine makes everything look more promising. Making my way towards home, I diverted my steps for a quick look at the veg garden; every day makes a difference especially after the two recent storms. Plants were noticeably doing their planty growing thing and, with a spring in my step, I resolved to spend an hour in the garden before lunch.

Somewhere between the veg patch and home (only a few minutes walk), I switched to thinking about doing a bit more work on the hedge in the car park garden. (I really must think up another name for that space, Car Park Garden doesn't quite do it justice.) The Euonymus hedge needs some very severe restorative pruning to encourage it to bush up from the base and I need to tidy up the space to see if there's room for a mini greenhouse.

What started as a sunny but breezy moment of pruning soon turned into a battle against a gale force wind. And then it rained. Time for lunch, I told myself, and packed my tools away. I had managed a couple of hours but, admitting defeat for the day, I headed back indoors and turned my thoughts back to the veg garden - surely spring can't be far off, if only the weather would make up its mind.  I'm wondering if I should sow some chilli seeds.

Despite the changeable weather, the UK winter has been kind to us namby-pamby Southerners. On my earlier walk round the veg patch I'd snapped a few photos:


I was surprised to see wild garlic already well under way ...  Wild garlic has such a reputation for spreading that some might think me foolhardy for deliberately growing it. Not to worry, so far it's been remarkably self-restrained and seems happy to occupy just a few feet of soil under the cherry tree. Possibly the lack of regular watering (no nearby hosepipe) makes things inhospitable for new seedlings.


And so to broad beans. A bit of an experiment this as it's the first time I've tried over wintering beans. I set them out next to support sticks last December; tying them in now that they've grown is on the to-do list, although not being secured to stakes might have saved them from being ripped in half during the strong winds of Storms Ciara and Dennis. What I did notice (with not a little excitement) was that flower buds are starting to form on the plants and not a aphid in sight. Hopefully I'm not jinxing things with that last observation.



Kale is one of my winter veg patch staples, a vegetable I add to stir fries, soups, smoothies and, when the mood takes me, an omelette. It keeps going even in the harshest winter and it looks pretty. Even if it's covered with an ugly trellis to keep foxes off.  The Cavolo Nero plant that has kept going for so long has started to form flower buds - these are still edible but this is the second time the plant has run to seed; it has served me well. It feels very fitting that new plants will be raised from last summer's saved seed.

Looking ahead, the weather forecast is looking predictably gloomy (possibility of hail tomorrow!). So any gardening will be in short bursts while I go back to planning my seed sowing calendar indoors.

So let me leave you with this thought - aren't spring flowers just awesome?

Self seeded and so pretty. 

Tulips that I thought I'd dug up last year. Can't remember how many years these have been in.

First forget-me-nots are starting to flower. Some blue, some pink. And in profusion.

Ever reliable cowslips. 
Now I'm thinking I should move some of these to the Car Park Garden

19 Jan 2020

It's that winter/spring thing

Balcony view, white hyacinth flowering


So far this winter I’ve remained cozily optimistic about avoiding frost and freezing temperatures, given the relatively mild weather in North London.  Early yesterday morning though, following a beautifully clear night sky, I could just make out a layer of ice etched into the cars parked below from my second floor windows. It’s the first time temperatures have fallen below 45°F (8°C) and I felt the tug to be outside, looking to see if my nasturtium leaves had caved in to the cold. (They hadn’t.)

Before you ask, no I haven’t discovered a super hardy variety of nasturtium; these are left overs from last summer and usually don’t survive beyond November. I ripped out most of the sprawling trip-hazard plants at the end of autumn but a few fallen seeds had germinated so I left the baby plants for salad leaves until winter got them.  They carried on (rather heroically I thought) and, unrealistically, I was hoping that a mild winter would let these plants live to produce early summer flowers. I think my expectations might be misplaced. Although ....

Nasturtium germinating in January
Newly opened and appreciating this weekend's warm January sunshine

This past week the weather has been rather horrid and a sharp reminder that we’re still not at peak Winter in the UK - dark grey skies, constant drizzle, heavy rain, and buffeting cold winds. (Which makes this weekends sunshine all the more appreciated.)  It was the sort of weather that makes you want to curl up under a cosy blanket with your seed box and dreams rather than be outdoors but, undeterred, I have been checking in on the garden.  There’s not a lot happening in the veg patch, understandably, but what there is seems to be ticking over nicely, waiting for spring.

In autumn last year I sowed a dozen Aquadulce broad bean plants in modules. I wanted to see if overwintering (rather than spring sown) gives an earlier harvest; the small plants were transplanted into the garden in early December and now need tying in to their support stakes. My favourite beans are still Karmazyn (slightly sweeter with pink coats inside green pods) but they won’t be sown until March/April.

Onion sets planted in December have started to sprout, kale (pink veined Red Devil), chamomile and chervil are all looking very healthy, having been planted out as I cleared the veg patch in early winter.  The strawberry runners, not so much; I noticed yesterday that they were looking very sorry for themselves but perhaps they'll perk up with some better weather. 

January nights are punctuated by the mating cries of urban foxes; the flats here are next to a railway line, a lushly overgrown 'green corridor',  making it a perfect spot for fox burrows. Most nights several of them like to check out the home turf, looking for food and fun. I can see that foxes have been in both gardens; yep, the usual calling cards are much in evidence!  So all my precious veg has been protected under rescued wire baskets (often see thrown out on the streets).

Safe to say, the garden is not at its most glamorous but all is not lost.  After pinning my hopes of winter flowers on a solitary snowdrop for the past few weeks, I was thrilled to find the violets in bloom yesterday.  These are self seeded having managed to work their way a good 8 metres up the garden path. Recognising the leaf shape when the seedlings were tiny, I left the plants to develop but will move them, probably into the other garden which is, to its detriment, currently a violet-free zone.



But I can't leave without mentioning my Cavolo Nero plant. I love how nature is a constant cycle of surprises! In 2018 I let the original plant run to seed, mainly because the flowers provide late summer food for bees. By spring of last year, one of those seeds had grown into a tiny plant which I carefully  moved to the other end of the veg patch where it thrived to produce good leaves for eating all year. That plant was huge and healthy so I let that one run to seed as well. After harvesting the seeds, I cut the stalk down to about a metre high, leaving it as there were still a few leaves growing from the base. Those leaves have been providing me with food all winter and the plant is still growing. Now that's what I call excellent value.

My hero Nero

8 Jan 2020

A good day at the library

This wonderful mosaic tiled floor at the entrance to the Lindley Library

A visit to a library is always a good thing.  When that library has shelves dedicated to all things gardening, it becomes a really good thing.  Yesterday I set out for my old stomping ground, Pimlico. I lived and worked there before I had my now adult son and always enjoy a wander down memory lane.  It was a wonderful place to live, just a short walk to the Tate and Hayward galleries, and the National Portrait gallery in Trafalgar Square; even Chelsea was just a quick hop by pedal power. My flat was 5 minutes walk from the Horticultural Halls but I hadn't discovered gardening ... yet. Yesterday’s mission was to return books to the RHS Lindley Library, equidistant between Pimlico and Victoria tubes but I prefer to avoid the hurly burly of Victoria's busy station and streets.

Gardening books on a library shelf
Just for starters ... 

I love gardening and I love books so when my twin passions collide, I’m in heaven. And this library is filled with joy for the gardening bibliophile. Shelves filled with gardening books of every topic, garden mags to read in comfy chairs, desks for quiet research and an archive of precious books, papers, artifacts, prints and manuscripts dating from the 15th century.  Add to that friendly helpful staff, a quiet atmosphere and regular small informative exhibitions - I find I don’t need much of an excuse to pop in when I’m in the area. (The RHS also has libraries which I've yet to visit at their Wisley and Harlow Carr gardens.)

Metal engraved title page of 16th century book: The Herball written by John Gerard.
Title page of John Gerard's 'The Herball', 1597 - predating Culpepper's herbal by 120 years
Metal engraving had replaced woodcut printing, used to beautiful effect here.

My first encounter with the library was the result of a talk offered at one of RHS London shows; those shows were always wonderful and sadly missed.  Shamefully, I can’t remember what that talk was about but can clearly recall the very beautiful old books brought out from the archives for the group to look at. I think the talk may have been to do with early plant use as one of the books was an original Gerard’s Herbal. (1597! That's over four hundred years old and no white gloves were required. Perhaps that was an oversight.) Incredibly, to my mind, the archive is accessible to all by prior appointment which seems very generous.  (Currently Tuesdays and Thursdays due to staffing levels.)

At the time of that talk I thought the library was exclusively for serious writers and researchers but one day, following signs to an exhibition (The Healing Garden, I think) I tentatively went inside and discovered over a warm welcome that the library was open to everyone (not just RHS members, although I am) and that I could join and take books home. That made my day I can tell you and has helped my book buying budget no end. I always check the online library catalogue now before buying a gardening book.

Dig for Victory leaflets from Second World War
Making the most of a small plot? I could do with that today! 

I've been to several of the mini-exhibitions since - Dig for Victory last October was memorable with artefacts and photos illustrating the social history behind Britain's wartime food growing, supported by the government and the RHS. On show were maps and cloth bags used to send seeds over to prisoner camps, leaflets on success with veg, and photos of allotments (in Hyde Park!) and back gardens being turned over to veg growing. (I remember being told by one of the older residents on my estate that the gardens here were dug up for food growing but returned to shrubs soon after the war was over for practical reasons.)


Autochrome photo of a bowl of red and green apples.
 Stunningly beautiful up close. I'd be happy to give it wall space.
William Van Sommen, autochrome photo.
(All photos are protected with a glass frame so apologies for the quality
but if you look closely my reflection is at the lower left edge of the bowl
)

My visit yesterday was intended to be a quick turnaround to return some books and head home empty handed. After a friendly chat with lovely staff at the welcome desk, it would have been rude to leave before having a look at the display of William Van Sommen’s autochrome photos, and from there it was just a quick step to the library shelves and magazine racks.  Gardens Illustrated, Kitchen Garden, Grow Your Own and the latest Permaculture editions (and more if I'd had time) awaited.

So, funnily enough I didn't leave empty handed as planned but came home with a small selection of books on urban growing, Beth Chatto’s drought resistant planting and wildflower gardening. Oops.  And I get to take them back in a month's time.
😄



Colour in the Garden is on until 24th January at 80 Vincent Square. The library is open Monday to Friday, there are loos on the 4th floor, a lift and wonderful views over the Westminster School playing fields on the way down.  More about what the library offers here.

The two RHS London shows this year are in April, free for RHS members; I'll be there, will you?.
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