Box Fresh

February has been so mild; it feels like spring.  Which it almost is, isn’t it?  But we are not fooled in the Midlife Garden, despite the daffodils coming up weeks ago, wallflowers currently adding splashes of gold in the front border and even the Viburnum Mariessii about to come into flower.  It is still not spring.  OK? 

But we are keen to get our annual flowers established in plenty of time for July and the Big Fat Somerset Wedding.  Over the years of the MLG, the trend is for me to be getting flowers to bloom earlier and earlier.  Whether this is due to my burgeoning horticultural expertise or the result of global warming, is a moot point.  When I started in the Old Man’s Garden in 2012, I was chuffed when the first sweet pea came out on 10th July – my mother’s birthday (mum was a dab hand with sweet peas, so it felt right).  A few years later I was getting sweet peas in June and even May.  So I should be cautiously optimistic about prospects for July, but it is a constant ongoing work of Plan, Do Review. As the someone once ironically said to me: “Better Never Stops”.

So, I have worked through my 2023 ‘Annual’ Review to address any potential problems for 2024.  Germination of seeds is not generally an issue: a warm windowsill (or spare bed) gets most seeds started, after which pots and trays migrate to the greenhouse to continue their early life.  It is here that we encounter challenges, be it from the threat of hard frosts or the voracious appetite of slugs and snails. 

As my internal corporate life coach tells me, challenges are opportunities for growth, so that is how I approach the issue in the MLG. I guess I could bring the seedlings inside if frost is forecast, or every night if I want to avoid the slugs. But this is time-consuming and requires a level of commitment and foresight that is often beyond me. So, this year I am going for a double insulation solution that might – just might – cover all bases.

It is an idea I found from my long-term seed supplier at Higgledy Garden.  Young Ben does not have a greenhouse, but instead uses storage boxes, which provide all the warmth the seedlings need.  With the lid on, he can guard against pests too, and if there is a truly severe frost (which is admittedly less likely in his sub-tropical Cornish wonderland), he can stack the boxes up indoors for the night.  It seems too good to be true, so I am testing his idea by popping all my seeds into 3 cm square pots, inside storage boxes and I am planning to put them in the greenhouse for that added security.  It should be seedling heaven.

I am fully aware that that even if I manage to get the boxes, get the seeds sown and they do actually germinate, I will be a long way from being out of the seedling woods, as evidenced by my sweet peas in December and January having lost 50% of the little guys (and counting) through damping off.  To try and guard against that particular threat I have, for the first time, washed all my pots to eradicate all the nasty viruses and grollies that might be lurking there from last year. 

So, come on seeds, what more do you need to work your magic?  Let’s get growing.

Bleak Mid-Winter?

Winter sky
Winter sky

The sky was opalescent yesterday morning as I took the dogs out for their daily ramble. The clouds were grey and wind-blown, but a small aperture had been rubbed away by the elements to reveal a patch of blue with some pink-tinged wisps of cumulus. Even the most dull walk can be enlivened by the smallest sight or the greatest view. Even in the depths of winter there’s always something to brighten your day such as a patch of blue sky, a flock of fieldfares taking flight or a sparrowhawk hunting along the hedgerows.

December mow - the mole hill reappeared within minutes
December mow – the mole hill reappeared within minutes

But it does not feel like the depths of winter.  Since the frost of a few weeks ago it has remained steadfastly mild – warm even – and the garden continues to grow as if summer had not ended. It is mid-December and we have alstroemerias blooming as well as other blossom in the borders.   The penstemons still bloom and the grass has simply kept on growing.  But combined with the amount of rain we have had, cutting it has been nigh on impossible.  Yesterday, though, as it did not rain in the night, I took a punt and jumped on the mower and had a go.  The mower was not happy, and I could only imagine the stirrings from next door as the Old Man would be turning down his TV to listen to the grinding of the blades against the damp grass.  Even now I still do stuff around the house and garden with a vestigial sense of doom wondering if I am doing it correctly in the eyes of my parents.  I guess most of us do this to some extent but when the eyes and ears of one parent are only the other side of the kitchen window the lingering nature of the affliction devolves to a more clear and present danger.  On the up side, though, The Old Man is not walking too far these days, so even if my concerns about his thoughts on mowing in such conditions are real (and not imaginary) then at least he’s not likely to run out in to the garden to voice his disapproval.

So I clattered on with the mower thinking that I could get away with whatever lack of foresight or good workmanship I might be displaying.  And yet, when I saw TOM this morning he announced that it was an all-time record to be mowing in December.  “But it did need it” he affirmed – thus giving approval to my bleak mid-winter mow.