Chuffed as a weed #1

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.

Bursting into life

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.

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.

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.

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.)

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

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.

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!

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!

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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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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 .... !

It's tulip time!

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.

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.

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