Veronica or Veronicastrum Virginicum?*

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Let ’em Dangle

I read a good article by James Wong in the Grauniad this weekend in which he gave his four top tips for beginners in the garden. I never feel like I have a great well of knowledge about gardening, although I have friends who see me as the expert in gardening, in relative terms that is, because I actually plant stuff, grow stuff and harvest or cut other stuff at the end of the process.  Although I still regard myself as a beginner in this big green-fingered world, reading James Wong’s article made me think that perhaps, in the horticultural educational ladder, I would most probably be in a position to now graduate from beginners’ to improvers classes.

James Wong says persistence is key – to not be put off by things dying on you.  Well, I think I do that.  There have been times when growing veg this summer has felt like a Sisyphean task – as successive batches of chard and peas have perished on the raised bed killing fields like ranks of yeomanry heading over the top to be mown down by slugs, sparrows or simple drought.  But I have rolled that metaphorical rock back up the hill and actually made it stick on occasion to reap the benefits in plentiful courgettes and beans, amongst other things.

Second piece of advice is to avoid worrying about weeds, which are simply flowers int the wrong place.   Using new raised beds has been a real treat this summer, especially with the dry weather so there has been little or no weeding to be done, but I have taken James’s idea to one extreme by allowing some of the random seedlings that emerged from the mudslide of the great greenhouse disaster to flourish in the warm indoor beds.  So I now have a sprinkling of zinnias and Ammi poking through the sweet peppers and tomatoes.  Why not?

Tip number three is simply to plant stuff in the ground and not bother with pots too much.  This is something I could take heed of as I am the worst helicopter parent when it comes to germinating and growing seeds.  I put them in lovingly sieved compost in individual seed trays and then check on them everyday – perhaps every hour – until they are poking through.  Then fuss over them even more watering and watching until they are bursting out of the trays and need to be potted on or planted out.  Then – to my amazement – when let loose from their molly coddled world of shop-bought compost and careful watering, planted out in the naked earth, they flourish.  Like grumpy teenagers living away from home for the first time they suddenly take flight, get on with growing up properly and become sensible members of the community.  So why not sow more seeds direct into the earth?  It might be what they really want.  Perhaps I’ll try that…

And finally Mr Wong advises using Latin names for everything.  Just get out and learn them he says:  no one really knows how Latin – a dead language – should be pronounced so no worries there.  And by using the correct Latin name you can be sure of what you are buying rather than vaguely describing the blue one of this or that flower, you can be pedantically specific.  But as someone whose school coerced him into taking Latin O-Level (My fault: I was one of only a few who actually revised for the exam in the second form) and subsequently scraped a C grade at sixteen (a “4” in today’s exciting GCSE grading), I have never been keen on the language even in horticultural use.   Until recently I would have assumed that streptocarpus was a fish flavoured throat lozenge.  But I will perhaps try the Latin way more often.  Does that include more gesticulation when I speak, suffering wild swings of emotion and using the horn on my car with impunity?  If it makes the broad beans grow, I’ll give it a shot.

I may not have been happy with being made to do latin as a schoolboy, but if things don’t go as planned, it is better to laugh than to cry.   As a latin student might have said of my designated superiors at the last educational establishment I left:

“Eos si iocus non possint pedicabo…”

 

 

*With apologies to Elvis Costello

What’s the title of this blog?

Red AdmiralIt’s getting towards autumn – in fact Mrs B observed to me last week that the day and night were at that point of equal length.  “Aha – autumnal equinox” I said.  She just sneered at my nice-boy schooling which got me a C at latin O-level to provide me with the ability to throw in some long words in short sentences.  Add to the equinox a lunar eclipse which coincided with the harvest super moon and it is all beginning to feel just that bit chillier and darker around these parts.

Boomrerang Bed in Autumn
Boomerang Bed in Autumn

In gardening terms this is a time to plan, as the seed catalogues start to thump on the front door mat.  But it also prompts an air of melancholy which puts me in a reflective mood.  A constant topic of discussion with Mrs B is the reduction in the OM’s capabilities as he struggles with his breathlessness and decreasing mobility.  But a lessening in mobility is something that guess I am coming to terms with as I ponder the fact that I will no longer be able to play competitive hockey or tennis again, as my knees and back have put paid to that.  I feel old.  But I’m not am I?  I reassure myself that I can still dig the garden or plant up the Rudbeckia or Sweet Williams.  And I also had my best round of golf the other day.  So I tell myself that I am still active and reasonably fit…..but then I’m reminded that I am fit only within the parameters of someone who has truly hit middle age.  So yes, if that is the sum total of my achievements then I guess I am getting old(er).  Just check out the title of this blog for confirmation of where I am in life.

Lord of All he Surveys
Lord of All he Surveys

But the garden keeps me stimulated as we plan extensions to borders and think of new veg for the spring.   And in the spirit of reflection I happened upon some old photos of the boomerang bed when TOM and mum first planted it.  The pics tell a story of how much the garden has matured in the intervening years, but also give some insight into the division of labour in the household in those days.  We can see TOM standing tall and imperious as his life partner bends to do the planting.  It might be an unfortunate moment, but I think it illustrates how this garden came to be.  Other photos show the bed planted up for the first summer with begonias – Mrs B’s most loathed flower – and it brought back memories of how my parents would assiduously fill the borders with bedding plants every year.

How times have changed: now the vogue is to emulate Piet Oudolf with drifts of perennials, an example of which we viewed the other day at Hauser and Wirth.

If only we had planted them a bit to the left...
If only we had planted them a bit to the left…

I remember TOM as the manager from the time I helped mum to plant the five acers at the end of the garden.  I must have been in my late teens.  We put in the best part of a day’s hard labour digging the holes and planting the sizeable saplings in the rough field while the OM was at work.  On surveying the work his initial reaction was to point out what we could have done better  – which was not unusual.  He told us they should have been three feet further to the left.  The news was not received well: I suspect it was suggested that if he did not like their positioning, he was welcome to move them himself.

They stayed where they were and thrived.

He must have been about my age when the boomerang bed was planted, so it fills me with hope that the garden has come so far since then and continues to stimulate, challenge, frustrate but ultimately reward the work that goes into it, and will do so for many years.  Hell, TOM is still around and able to gain some pleasure from the garden so I guess there is still plenty of life left in this Midlife Gardener yet.