Tag Archives: raspberries

Currant affairs

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Blueberries & Raspberries

At the start of July we took a hard-earned break in the sun. Prior to our departure the red currants and black currants were just ripening up into what was promising to be a bumper harvest. With black membrane underneath the plants in the spring, they had not become overgrown with bind weed and nettles as in previous years and they were looking marvellous.  Not that red currants are a crop that I have ever felt any great joy in harvesting. When we were young all I remember them really being used for was an occasional summer pudding and copious jars of currant jelly. The kitchen store cupboard became a currant jelly connoisseur’s dream destination.

“What? you still have a case of the vintage ’78?”

“Yes we do – It’s still spreading well and has a lighter body and better bouquet than the otherwise equally fine ’82, with top notes of raspberry and new-mown grass on the finish”.

Yes – my parents went in for their currants in a big way.  So when we returned from holiday this year to discover that the birds had stripped every bush, I felt mixed emotions.   I was primarily relieved that I would not have to pick them, but also slightly guilty that I had not netted them and just a little awkward about how I would break the news to the Old Man.

As it turned out he broached the subject himself by telling me that he thought the currants “must be ready for picking soon”.

“No need” I replied, “the birds have already done the job for us”.  And what a job:  there was not a single currant of any denomination left on any bush.   Fortunately he did not seem too upset.  I suspect his jelly and jam-making days are over and there is only so much room in the freezer for bags of currants.

But with another holiday looming (we teachers have to squeeze our foreign trips in when we can) I realise the raspberries are just coming to fruition and I definitely do not want the blackbirds having them.  So I’ve erected the remains of last year’s wind-tossed gazebo with some new bird-proof netting so we might enjoy our raspberries properly.  The blueberries in the meantime have been happily ripening in their netted tent pole rig.

But I won’t be making any jam any time soon.

Raspberries
Blueberries
No Currants

Feed the Birds

Pied Wagtails in central Bath (poor pic)
Pied Wagtails in central Bath (poor pic)

Mary Poppins the musical is back doing the rounds and so I somehow got an ear worm in my head that is straight out of the show. Ear worm is an apt description as the song is “Feed the Birds”.  It was always something that the parents did and the Old Man has always been diligent in keeping the feeders full of nuts.  in recent winters the main recipients have been rats who have climbed the wisteria to hang on the wire cage and feast.  This year TOM has not been putting food out for the birds (or the rats) yet. Whether this is because the weather has been so mild our feathered friends really do not need any more sustenance I am not sure.

In years gone by we would be asked to delay pruning the Cotoneaster until the birds had been able eat all the berries, but frankly I have never seen any self-respecting fieldfares helping themselves to the red plenty.

But we have found other ways in which to provide for the wild bird population.  A year or two back the starlings would flock around the hen run and clean us out of layers pellets and corn. It cost us a bomb to keep re-filling the feeder – making for some of the more expensive free range eggs around. We now have a feeder that is not accessible to small birds so that is sorted.

Equally, I have put an end to providing fodder to the pigeons, who after I had netted the purple sprouting, turned their attention to the kale and when I covered that, they started to shred the brussels. Can’t fault them for taste, but it amuses me how easily they are put off feeding by a bit of green net.

Birds I am happy to aid in their five-a-day nutritional requirements are obviously the robins who appear as soon as I pick up a fork. Robins act like they are your chums and at Christmas they appear all sweet and festive on cards and the like. But they are fiercely territorial and pretty damned belligerent towards each other. So not all that cute.

The other piece of bird-friendly activity I finally did yesterday was to take the netting off the raspberries – thereby allowing birds to rummage in amongst the canes for any old fruit or other stuff.

And all day long I was humming along “tuppence a bag”…

Dead Air

Retaking territory after the weeds
Re-taking territory after the weeds

It rained yesterday.  Bucketloads.  Which was a good thing.  Not in the “It’ll do the garden good” kind of way, because the garden is plenty wet enough thanks.  No – it gave us the excuse to stay indoors and watch the battle of Good v Evil which was how the World Athletics Championships had been billed.  Having had the brilliance and farce / tragedy of the women’s Heptathlon as Ennis-Hill ruled supreme and Johnson-Thompson fouled out (tragically? stupidly?) we had the Bolt v Gatlin race for the soul of athletics.  The whole eternal battle thing was a little over the top, but it was pleasing to see the Good Guy beat the one wearing the metaphorical black stetson.  Usain rode off with gold on his golden Palomino.

Raspeberries are secure
Raspeberries are secure

After that breathless excitement it was time turn to our own Midday in the garden of Good and Evil.  There is plenty of decent stuff in the garden – such as my nice new fruit cage that I have manufactured out of the twisted remains of the gazebo that took a battering in the June gale, and the flowers that we planted are still blooming:  Cosmos are brilliant, Rudbeckia tall and proud, Gladiolae still glad to be gay and Veronica small but perfectly formed.

There are plenty of veg, if one looks hard enough:  courgettes ranging from petite to XXXXL, green beans, runner beans and dwarf french (although the climbing french for some reason have simply whithered on the cane).  Plenty of potatoes, summer psb, and spicy, peppery salad leaves.

Eggs have hatched
Eggs have hatched

But there is still a constant battle of Good and Evil here too.  The cabbage whites have managed to lay their eggs and we now wage war with the caterpillars which have stripped some plants clean.  The leeks which we planted before we went away, were razed to the ground within 24 hours so we raised the barricades for them and they seem to have recovered.  The lawn (well, grassy area) has more patches than a quilters’ convention with splodges of bare earth dotted all over showing a  constant reminder of mole activity.  And the roses have once again been given the sign of the black spot with death and decay to follow.  Not even the greenhouse is immune where the ants nests are abundant despite the ants always seeming to take to the air (I thought they all flew on one day and that was it?).  I am not sure how much damage they actually cause, but surely they cannot be helping?

But despite the dead air of the greenhouse there is still some promising news with the first two tomates finally making it to the table – about three months after the gardening giants of Galhampton had started cropping their wonder plants.   Ours will taste all the better for the wait – or at least that is how I try to argue it with Mrs B.

Keats had it right

Keats had it about right with his Ode to Autumn:  A season of mists and mellow fruitfulness.  In the garden the first early morning mists heighten the aroma of gentle decay and dwindling fecundity.  The apples are dropping, we have picked the pears, french beans are finished and even the runners have reached the end of their race.  We even managed to eat the pears before the went over into mush.

Slugfest

The hostas are now mostly bare skeletons after the constant onslaught of slugs and snails.  But they make for some lovely colours and patterns.  It is the colours that lift the spirit in autumn.  It is too easy to bemoan the shortening days, cooling temperatures and  arrival of equinoctial storms (remnants of hurricanes from across the Atlantic), but there is beauty in the garden and along the hedgerows.  Blackberries are brilliant and the raspberries that we planted at the start of the year have given us enough to sprinkle on our cereal each morning.  Look great, taste great.  Already I find myself looking forward to next year when the raspberries will be really

 

 

 

There is an air of packing up and hunkering down.  I have started clearing beds, such as under the Morello cherries: a bed that had some iris in it and not a lot else as far as I can guess, so some small lilies have gone in there today.  General tidiness is the order of the day and we have chopped the runner beans down and cleared large patches of the garden.

 

Elsewhere I decided to chuck in a load of plants that Lynn has given to us.  I am not sure what they are, but I cleared the bed at the top of the mole slope and spaced plants out according to what I am guessing they might become.  I decided to call that bed the pot luck be, because the outcome of that will be even more one of chance than normal.  We will see how it all goes, but it looks tidy for now.

The Old Man returned this week and said that he noticed that Jim had done a lot of work while he was away.  I made sure he knew who had done most of the work and even found myself in a conversation about what work to do next in the garden (saw down the tortuosa willow to shed more light on the lucky dip bed).

 

It’s beginning to feel like I actually manage this place.