Chuffed as a Weed: #2 Myosotis

With spring well underway, I’m spending quite a bit of my gardening time bending over to pull out weeds. Little and often is my method for keeping the worst weeds at bay, but what is a weed anyway?

End of March in the Veg Patch

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).

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.

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

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.