Veg Box: Peas, Courgettes, Potatoes, Black Kale, Radishes and Lettuce
The garden is in full swing giving up its gifts after the spring preparations and planting. In the past few weeks I have harvested garlic, shallots and onions. While I see this as a continuation of what has been done in this patch for decades, I take some smug satisfaction from the fact that all three of these vegetables are crops with which I seem to have far more success than the Old the Man did in his day. He tells me that they never managed to get good hard onions which would store well and the garlic he tried only produced small bulbs of poor quality.
If this were a proper gardening bliog and I a proper gardener, this is where I would offer advice and some insight into my secrets for producing great crops. Perhaps it is the spacing, the type of compost I use, or the thoroughness of my hoeing techniques. Maybe I make sure I harvest them only after three successive days of temperatures above 20 degrees and humidity below 50 per cent or maybe it’s how I dry them in a clean pine shed laid on galvanized steel netting three and a half inches off the floor.
But no – like most of my gardening exploits it is down to Google, hunch, and plain dumb luck. But it is always refreshing to hear TOM giving me praise on what I do and describing my efforts as superior to his. I don’t tire of receiving such accolades: giving praise face to face to his off-spring is a habit which has taken him many decades to develop. I will accept it with modesty and try to avoid the vanity and swell-headedness that it was assumed would inevitably follow any paternal approbation.
I’ve rewritten this post about three times as I have tried to get the tone right. Autumn has always been to me a time for reflection though in my younger years it was enlivened by my birthday in October which would be closely followed by Guy Fawkes night and then on to Christmas. These days another birthday is of little consequence – although the arrival home of Verity for my birthday was a wonderful surprise. This, sadly, was tempered by the premature passing of my cousin Dave at the age of 55, which put me back into reflective mode. Attending a funeral of one of our peers reminds us that there is no point in hanging about – life is out there and it is not waiting for you so it was apt that two days later Mrs B was running 10 miles in the Great South Run to celebrate her own good health three years on since Lymphoma and stem cell transplant.
Squashes – not too large
So as the clocks go back and the nights draw in one must be thankful for one’s blessings and to look forward, which is exactly what one does in the garden, as we start planning for next year. We have been designing a new border, planting out Sweet Williams and other perennials, and planting garlic. We have also cleared the last of the squashes (much smaller than last year for some reason) and harvested the last of the green peppers and aubergines – which were also disappointing in size and number. So we will be looking to rectify what might not have gone right this year and trying to add new and different aspects to the garden.
Halving the irises in the Silver Wedding
So, as I had a couple of spare days at half term I took time to make the extension to the Boomerang bed. Not sure what to call this…the didgeridoo? I shuffled plants in the Boomerang and the Silver Wedding, putting the Veronicas together in the former and splitting the irises in the latter (hard work, that one). I surprised myself by how many plants I had for stocking the bed: as well as the Rudbeckia Marmalade and leftover Sweet Williams that we had grown from seed, there were a whole bunch of perennials that I had acquired as a bargain plug plant offer last year, and a lot of them have been doing nicely up by the top greenhouse over the summer and look ready for planting out now. It’s almost like a planned it all along. It was potentially back-breaking work, but immensely satisfying.
The great summer of 2016 starts here (or at least the planning does).
Fungus
Mrs B’s scarecrow glove – designed to get rid of Cabbage Whites
Walnuts – collected then pilfered by the dogs
First sod is cut
This takes time…
Ready for stage 2
2 barrow loads of compost dug in. Now planting
Trying out the new camera
Season of Mists…?
Red sky in the morning – Mrs B’s running warning
The ladies – 30 miles between them (Mrs B is in the middle)
When my parents were developing the garden and working it up to produce vegetables on an industrial scale they used to start to plan their holidays around the seasons in the garden so that they would not be away when any particular veg was likely to be cropping, resulting in several tons of valuable fodder going to waste.
This is a state of mind that I have so far tried to avoid – with spectacular results if last year was anything to go by, as I spent most of July and August abroad, and the garden did its best to return to wilderness in my absence.
Where are the peas?
I did not learn my lesson this year: at the start of July we decided to jet off to Cyprus – to the villa owned by my favourite brother-in-law. The mangetout and sugar snap peas were peaking and by the time we returned the brief season was over apart from some very bumpy mangetout in amongst the weeds. But I am pleased to say that my attempt at succession planting seems to have, well, succeeded so the later wave has enabled us to harvest plenty of peas over the last week or two. By now though, they are beginning to gain the size and consistency of marbles.
Garlic in the barrow
Other stuff has happened to be ready to harvest while we were around, such as the shallots and garlic. The shallots are fab and some of the garlic has been awesome – such as the Early Purple Wight and the Elephant Garlic. The Lautrec Wight gave us smaller bulbs, but that might be something to do with it being a hard neck variety.
A trifle premature?
I have also gathered my onions in as the tops of some of them had “fallen” over so I thought I’d dig them all up. That might have been a trifle premature, but as the whole onion patch (along with the rest of the veg patch) was totally overrun with mature weeds, it was a bit difficult to to find the onions, let alone get an accurate estimate of their maturity. I’m letting them dry a little before I store them.
On the upside, as they say stateside, ten days in Cyprus appears to have been the miracle cure for my back. I still don’t know the extent of the damage as I had an MRI on 16th July but am still awaiting the results. But at least my vertebral column no longer feels as precarious as the piles of crockery in the Sword in the Stone kitchen scene so I have set to and cleared much of the undergrowth. I now have plenty of fresh soil to cultivate. I can get back to the fun stuff now, planting and all that. The leeks have gone in (finally – don’t know how they survived so long in a seed tray) and we will get some biannual flowers sorted too. But there does suddenly seem to be a lot of spare garden and I have an overwhelming urge to plant.
So with a wave of the gardening wand…Higitus, Figitus…
The Easter break has been kind for DIY and gardening. With the weather poor in the first week of the holidays, it was no chore to be inside, though painting the kitchen was. But with indoor work done, gardening has been a pleasure in the warm spring sunshine. This time last year it was bitterly cold and there is a hint of that with the fresh breeze and clear skies sending temperatures to hover above freezing at night. But everyone and everything in the garden has been enjoying decent day time temperatures.
Another stunning morning to enjoy the view of Cadbury
So we have been able to get a lot done and I reckon I have pretty much planted all the seeds I need to at the moment. Some are a little later than previously, others might be a little early. I have noticed that it is about this time of year that one starts to check out what your friends and neighbours are doing with their plots or greenhouses. Denise was offering me spare tomato plants before I had even planted seeds, which put me on edge a little, trying to remember if I had planted seeds earlier last year. I recall planting sweet peas early, indoors, but these were very “leggy”and were quickly caught up and even overtaken by those planted in the greenhouse later. So I am, with the dread of heredity, coming around to the same view as The Old Man who always says it really is not worth the bother to force start them indoors.
French Beans (I think – better check the label)
Conversely, Denise frowned when she saw I had planted my runner bean seeds. “Much too early” was her confident assertion. This was on the obligatory “tour of the garden”, which is a social requirement of all good neighbours who should at least feign polite interest in the others’ vegetables and herbaceaous borders (whilst making frantic mental notes on how yours compare). When Denise had gone, I rifled through my seed packets to check when it said to plant runners. Thankfully it says April. Relief – and renewal of confidence in my own work. Mind you, when it comes to gardening I am still of the Ronseal school of instruction – I do exactly what it says on the tin (or packet).
The tour of the garden is one overt way of checking on the neigbours. Alternatively you just lean over the fence to see what is happening over there. Walking around the village can give you glimpses into others’ back yards. Paddi’s greenhouse is right next to the footpath and Claire was able to report back that it is not showing any greater advancement in green shoots than ours. So I feel more comfortable about my own meagre showing of shooting stars, as Paddi regularly produces healthy young plants far earlier than me.
Talking of neighbours I liked the report from the RHS, as reported on the BBC which showed that 22% of gardeners admitted to just throwing snails over the fence into their neighbours’ gardens. I think the most shocking part of this was how FEW admitted to doing this…. I am in the happy position of not having neighbours too close so snails and other pests (such as dead rabbits) can be slung into the field or hedgerows. Not that there are too many snails and slugs at the mo – but with the summer term about to start, I expect rain will be forecast so we’ll see plenty more then. The report did not exactly raise any eyebrows with its findings – with facts such as 70% of men planned to cut the grass at Easter, compared with 57% of women. Good to see there is still some basis in fact to sexual stereotyping.
So, all-in-all the place is looking good and showing real signs of optimism for the summer, which suddenly feels like it’s just around the corner. I planted the potatoes on 14th April – which was four days later than the Old Man would have said – so can’t be bad, and the garlic and onions, despite relatively late plantings, compared with last year, are looking perky. The Amelanchier has been and gone in a trice – showing its stunning blossom for a few days before dropping its confetti on the former heather bed.
So now we await the greenshoots of spring to turn into a the lush green summer.
Spuds going in
Another little chitter
Sitting in its warm bed
Amellanchier 2014
Snake Bark looking happily transplanted
Cosmos coming up
Denise’s tomatoes – mine are still in their packets
Since November I have not posted. There are a number of drafts still on hold, but the idea of posting every day during November rapidly became an end in its own right: like a dog’s incessant barking, publishing a blog post every day was just so much pointless twitter. Combine that with the end of term and the appearance of Christmas on the horizon and gardening and writing took a back seat.
So a quick update on the garden sees more of the same, really. Ella has twice managed to get into the chicken run, and on each occasion has brought down a hen, catching a bird then trying to gum it to death in her soft retriever’s mouth. The hens have been vocal in their outrage and called the emergency services (me) to save them from the Black Death Eater. Verity, Josh and I spent some time translating just what it was they were saying: “f-king HURTS!” was our best guess, though we thought they were simply having a laugh at Ella’s inability to deliver the coup de gras. The second time I arrived to find three chickens in the hen-house, and the other two standing with their heads in the ivy, looking like the world’s worst exponents of hide and seek. Ella had one of the Sussex Stars in her mouth but was good enough to let it go when I told her.
The Hen Run – Dog Proofed
Just as with the previous time, the bird was, to all intents and purposes, playing dead. But with a nudge from my foot she got up and got on with life. Ella received a severe reprimand, but I do not think that will have much effect on her. So on Christmas day I worked off lunch making the fences dog proof once again.
Elsewhere in the garden I tidied up after the storms that we have had. A couple of panes of glass were blown out of the top greenhouse, though fortunately neither was broken. The cracked bits in the end of the greenhouse also fell out, but I managed to mend all without any assistance from the Old Man. Proper grown up, me.
Winter Oak
And down the end of the garden today I bundled up all the stakes and other bits and bobs of netting etc that had blown over under the oak tree. One thing leads to another and I came to the realisation that storing stuff around the oak rather detracted from what is a really lovely tree. I mean, how many people are lucky enough to have a good sized oak tree in one corner of their garden? It looks a lot better now. I was thinking of planting some bulbs around it but it’s probably a little late now – plus, the chances are my idiot black puppy will in all likelihood dig them all up, as she was hard at work digging there as I was trying to clear the posts.
One thing I will have to do later than last year is plant the garlic, which will now have to be a spring planting. We have been cooking with our own garlic all autumn – and only recently starting buying onions. It has been interesting to see the difference in flavours of each type, though I cannot remember which is which as the labels I wrote whited before I harvested them. The Elephant garlic was great. That one is not too difficult to spot, on account of its size, and though not strictly speaking a garlic, it has a lovely mild flavour. But as to the others, who knows. I will have to make a cunning plan for the spring.
Brace of Pheasant
Happy Hens
Ella trying to dig up trees
Swede
Last of the cabbages. Cauliflowers on the right never produced
We are at the time of the year when I remember my parents would begin to repeat the mantra about fresh produce in the garden. “The beans are ready for picking”, “plenty of courgettes” or “please help yourself to lettuces – or else they will go to waste”.
Waste – anathema to the generation brought up in wartime rationing and post-war depression. Wasting good produce was deemed a cardinal sin in the garden. All those delicious vegetables and we don’t seem to want to eat them. Well, I am now in that happy position when some vegetables are coming to harvest time and the daily habit of picking them has started. I say “some” because, frankly, this summer has been pretty crappy with the cold wet weather putting paid to many of the early veg like the peas (one bowlful from a row of plants). But the runner beans are hitting their stride at the moment.
Harvesting runner beans is the equivalent of plate spinning: you check each row every day and try to pick every bean that is of the required size: not too skinny, but not too fat and stringy. But somehow you always manage to miss a couple so next day you see a cucumber sized bean hanging in the green shade. If you left it another day, you feel it would pull the whole plant over, such is the apparent speed with which they grow.
So today I will be getting out there and trying to reap as many as I can. And what will I do with all these beans? Well, I will follow the parents’ example and start slicing, blanching and freezing as many of the blighters as I can. Suddenly frozen veg in the winter seems a really worth while idea. If it means they don’t go to waste.
Meanwhile, T.O.M. keeps informing me that the carrots in his patch are ready to pick. I gladly took some last night – and they are delicious. Carrots are right up there in terms of veg that truly taste so much better than shop bought.
And in response to my pompous declarations to The Old Man that there are plenty of runners, he first of all said that he better make some runner bean chutney (what? from my beautiful fresh runners?) then, after we returned from our trip to the Olympics at the weekend, said he hadn’t realised there were any ready.
Now I know how he felt whenever I failed to heed his requests for me to pick my quota of produce.
What size omelette did you want?
Elsewhere, the hens continue to lay well, but who is laying what is a mystery as the three from the other day show: mummy egg, daddy egg and baby egg: double yoker, single yoker and, well, “could do better if she tried”.
The unpredictability of home harvests.
Shallots?
A final note on my previous post about labelling things. I decided to lift the shallots, which I did under the supervision of T.O.M. It was all going well, with him advising which were “banana” shallots and which the ordinary variety (pretty obvious really – no need for labels there) when I found one little clump which had not developed greatly. We simultaneously realised that this was not a clump of underprivileged shallots, but was a garlic bulb. How did that get there? I wondered. Then remembered that all the shallots and garlic had been put in hurriedly at the start of the spring. So, once agin, you need to be so careful to label things, you know.
