Spud You Like

Someone Told me to wash my silver birch...
Someone suggested cleaning my silver birch…

The February half term break feels like a significant moment in the horticultural year.  Mrs B is fed up with the cold weather, but finally it seems the days are lengthening, and March is nearly upon us, which, nominally at least, is the start of spring.  The growing season is imminent, but now I start waking in the night worrying that it is too late to sow annuals and veg seeds.

Last month Mrs B and I braved the winter chill to make the annual Potato Day pilgrimage to Caryford Hall, joining the line of fellow pilgrims earnestly shuffling past the colour-coded plastic tubs of first and second earlies or main crop chitters.  Unusually, I went with little planning or forethought on what I wanted, or perhaps it signifies how I kinda know what I want these days, without having to overthink it.  No plan was probably wise, as many of the spuds I would have grown in the past were not available, not even anything Arran based, so I randomly selected Jazzy, Pentland Javelin, and Caledonian Pearl.  All of them are earlies, as these days I tend to agree with Mrs B’s view that main crop do not justify their space in the raised beds. 

As we stood in line, I heard rumblings of discontent among the Potato Day punters. 

“They’ve got no International Kidney and no Pink Fir Apple”, muttered one middle aged lady. 

“Hmm.  It’s a pretty crap year” was her husband’s considered reply, which I thought was little harsh, as the Pennard Plants staff always offered a couple of alternatives, but that just led to more earnest debates on their relative merits.

“What do you think love, Marvel, or Sunset?”

Apart from potatoes, I bought some chilli seeds and aubergine seeds, as they need an early start, and I am pleased to say they are already germinating.  It is always exciting to see the first seedlings poking through.  I never tire of this horticultural ‘miracle of birth’ which spurs me on to sow lots of annual flowers.  The flowers seeds are germinating in the greenhouse, but I started the chillis and aubergines on the heated floor of the bathroom, which probably helped them, but created an element of jeopardy and mild peril for any nighttime trip to the toilet. 

Just another reason why Mrs B cannot wait for the warmer weather arrive.

Same Old Same Old

It’s been a while since I posted, which suggests that I have not done a great deal in the garden – which is true, and fills me with mild panic that I might be lagging behind in preparation for the coming growing season.  So I took a quick look at what I did during February and March in the previous years and it was both reassuring and rather bitter-sweet.

In 2013 it was raining hard in February as I cleaned the greenhouse.  A year later it was raining even harder and the levels were under water. But the Old Man had a trailer of ten tons of manure delivered.  (That manure was finally finished last autumn when I gave up chiseling away at the last compacted layer of it).

In February 2015 I cleared the Silver Wedding and Boomerang beds and potted up plants that would eventually populate the new boomerang. I was still harvesting Red Kale and the new hens’ run was being built (with the help of Jim) by the cow stall.  And last year I was in Arran, enjoying the Scottish air, but feeling the first symptoms of heart disease. I put my little chitters out a couple of weeks after potato day and planted my tomatoes and chillis.

A year on and I approach spring with a shiny new stent in a coronary artery, a greenhouse that still looks like my artery did a year ago, but with a bunch of seedlings that are sprouting strongly.

Since my last post The Old Man has been in hospital recovering from his fall while I have been dealing with the usual at sporting issues at school.  But now it’s holiday time and an afternoon in the garden simply weeding, mulching and planting gladdens the heart – with or without a stent.