Recycled Rootrainers

With my last seed order, I ordered what I thought were Root Trainers, reusable long thin plastic containers, hinged in the middle to release their deep rooted contents when the time comes to plant out.  These were to be  a special treat for my sweet pea seeds, which are usually left to find their way, planted 3 seeds to a 10cm plant pot.

But when my root trainers arrived, they weren't quite what I thought they were going to be:  my mistake entirely for not reading the catalogue carefully enough.  They weren't the reusable plastic versions that I'd imagined, but instead were a kind of rough, semi-durable material, formed into cylinders.  They'll still do the job for which they were intended in a most splendid fashion - and the seeds will be delighted at the lack of root disturbance which their new homes will  guarantee as the whole thing can just be planted into the ground where it will gently biodegrade as the seedlings grow and prosper.

Which is all very fine, but these new purchases have set me off on a new collection with which to annoy my family.  (The younger members roll their eyes at my nests of old china teacups and pressed glass vases - blind to their own heaps of childhood jumble which creep from room to room until their progress is checked).  But at least my new collection is guaranteed to be short-lived.  For my new passion is  loo rolls.  Or more specifically  the cardboard tubes from the middle of toilet paper.  These will do exactly the same job for me as my specially purchased cylinders - their only drawback being that the cardboard does tend to get a bit squishy and rather alarmingly 'hairy' as they sit in the greenhouse whilst germinating their resident seeds.  My way to combat this is to use them for later plantings in March which will spend less time in the greenhouse and be moved relatively quickly into the ground.

I'll treat them the same way as my 'posh' planting cylinders - put them in a tray lined with green, felty, capillary matting to keep the open bottoms of the cylinders moist and to allow them to take up the water they need.

And it will be interesting to see how many loo rolls we get through between now and March….

Random acts of flowery kindness

A lovely day spreading flowery joy around the neighbourhood today.

A slow turnover at the bank holiday market yesterday had left me with a beautiful bootful, along with the grim prospect of composting them as I am going away again tomorrow.  Too horrible to contemplate such an early wormfood fate for my pretties.

Came up with the idea of asking a local restaurant if they would be interested in purchasing my market surpluses at a bargain price and carrying my card  (thus benefitting both parties), but sadly, they currently dress their smart interior with only artificial flowers (boooooooo!), and none even of those in sight today, so obviously not a priority.  A shame, as I think my bunches would be a brilliant contrast to the restaurant's sleek lines and really cheer the tables with their charcoal grey settings.   So, leaving the maitre D a couple of gratis bunches for the bar so he can see how marvellous they look and sow the seeds of a flowery idea, I departed, with one dahlia arrangement still in my hand.

Saw a lady who works at my bank about to cross the road, so gave her a rather pleasant surprise by interrupting her shopping with an impromptu bunch. Another passerby said "Oh, I was just admiring those.." at which I offered her a further posy from the car, thus earning myself promises of a prayer and a church candle for my largesse.

A nearby, flower-nut friend got back from holiday this weekend, and I knew for certain that she would appreciate the remainder. Roses, sweetpeas, dahlias and echinacea got a very excited reception from the friend and her daughters who rapidly pressed them into service to garnish their tea table laden with the results of their baking spree - sparkly iced cakes, biscuits and nutella lumps coated with melted chocolate.  I can vouch for the tastiness of the latter.

My this week's catsitter and her daughter called in to check feeding arrangements and claim keys, and received a dahlia bunch and two bedside posies for their pains. Their delighted grins and exclamations over sweet pea and mint scents, made me glad I had found such good homes for my ephemeral beauties.

The pleasure my bunches have brought all the diverse recipients today has more than made up for a lack of sales. Powerful things, flowers!

Holiday harvests

Have just returned from a week split between Latvia and Estonia - both fantastic.  Also learned lots about mushrooming, herb tea concocting and general foraging from Ilona, our supremely hospitable and generous host.  Am quite obsessed with finding good mushrooming sites now that I'm home.  Forest floors beware!

I also loved Ilona's outdoor walk-in larder - a bricklined earth mound, resplendent with shelves, hanging rails and ancient hooks from which hams once hung.  Made me think that I should press my cellar into service as a jam and preserves store, not that jams and preserves hang around for very long in this house...

Ilona's garden was also steeped in family history, with plants dating back to her grandmother's pre-Soviet garden, and a gnarly, sprawly apple tree grafted with several different varieties by her great-grandfather which still bears fruit today.  Talking plants with her was fascinating, and we found that we have quite a lot of flowers, and a shared taste in unfussy gardening in common.  However, some things that I love, like verbena bonariensis, while fine in an Estonian summer (and seen in swathes planted in Latvia's capital, Riga) would not take kindly to -30 degrees in winter, so have to be viewed as annuals only. Her golden rod, astilbes, phlox, peonies, echinacea (which I've always found a bit tricky) and sedums are obviously tough plants as they have persisted over generations through such incredibly harsh winters.  They deserve more than an RHS award of garden merit for showing such staying power!

Her generous garden is so different to my own - wrapping all around her gorgeous long, low wooden house, overlooking a beautiful, forest fringed lake.  In my own garden, my planting is often to screen neighbouring houses and to create a feeling of privacy, whilst in hers, tall bulky planting would be the last thing needed as it would block out that amazing view.  Oooh, such a lovely challenge though!

Returning home to Birmingham, it was straight to work with the cutting scissors in order to stop my productive flowers setting seed and giving up the ghost.  Swathes of sweet peas were therefore stuffed into any receptacle of a suitable height, and the forests of dahlias were felled and put into vases.

Cut cut cut!

At the allotment, badgers seem to have enjoyed all the broad beans which I didn't get time to pick before going away, stripping all the previously laden plants clean of pods.  They had left me runner beans and french beans though and do not seem to have any appetite for courgettes or chard, so I didn't leave the plot empty handed.  The first, early apples are crisp, sweet and ready to pick, so I'd better dust off the juicer, the tarte tatin recipe and get ready to extend all my waistbands in readiness for apple cake season.  The rhubarb also seems to be getting its second wind - wonder what it tastes like juiced with apples? Too sour?  Will have to try it to see.

'Charlotte' potatoes just half and hour old provided a treat for tea and I'm impressed with their yields this year.  'Rooster' doesn't seem to have produced many tubers though, so don't think I'll buy that one again next year. A pity as it is a really tasty variety - and that's saying something as I am not generally a potato fan.

A bountiful day, all in all.  The only thing missing is mushrooms... and a lake view....

Is there life after ammi?

The midsummer hiatus is happening again - my early summer lovelies are going over and the later perennials have not yet got into their stride.  The ammi has finally flopped, smothering its neighbours in the border and I am beady-eyeing its drying flower heads, waiting for the moment when I can collect oodles of seed to sow in September for next year's crop.  It is definitely a flower I want lots of 2014 as it such a brilliant filler and looks fantastic with virtually anything.  It's only slight drawback is that when the flowers are very mature, they make the surface of any arrangement look like you've been holding this year's AGM for the Homepride flour graders convention.

Frothy ammi with sweet peas and mallow

The kitchen worktop is starting to host a collection of plastic pots containing cerinthe seeds at various stages of desiccation - so expensive to buy, but every plant that grows will provide you with ample quantities of black nuggety seed for to keep replenishing for several seasons. I'm going to have another go at September sowings for that as well - last year came to nothing, but I don't think I'm going to take 2012 weather as any kind of benchmark for normality.

It has been brilliant to have heat and dryness this year - makes me feel like I've emigrated!

The dahlias are flourishing in the current conditions, and sedums are fleshing up well to provide a glaucous counterpoint for bright flashy red 'Witteman's Best' in summer bunches.

I can tell that summer is in full swing, as the lavender hedge at the front of the house in sprouting into gloriousness, and my candelabra-style light fitting downstairs is sporting several bunches hanging upside down to dry, ready for arranging in lean times later in the year.  The statice that I sowed in late spring is just starting to come into flower, so I must remember to cut and dry some of that for autumnal arrangements too.

My roses are totally crispy and require constant deadheading, so I have to bid them farewell and await their second coming in autumn.  It really makes me feel like the year is whizzing by to know that their first show is already over.

Excuse the dangly wicker pig's legs in the top part of this shot. I know them well, but they even had me bewildered when I first studied this photo!

What is going to replace the ammi in the next wave of flowers?  It has played such a big role in the borders, that I'm going to feel a bit bereft without it.  You'll just have to watch this space to see what comes in to fill its boots - and so will I, as I'm really not sure what can follow in its wake at the moment.

Guzzgoggery and other tales

Where does the expression 'playing gooseberry' come from?  Why should a spare part at a date be compared with a small, hard, hairy fruit?  Is it because they lurk in obscurity beneath the leaves and spitefully scratch as you try to detach them from their friends?  Or is it because they're rather sour and very prickly?

Whatever the reason, the guzzgogs picked today have now had their nature sweetened with three pounds of sugar and are now resting as 6 warm jars of delicious jam.

Summer pudding, made with redcurrants, strawberries, raspberries and the first ripenings of my best ever cherry crop (i.e. more than 6 fruits), is chilling in the fridge, and my vases are overflowing with sweet peas.

I had a new 'wow' today as I had my first sighting of blooms on a new dahlia 'Witteman's Best' - a lovely deep red on a long, strong stem.  Am willing them to produce lots more for cutting over the next few weeks.

Blackcurrants are also fast a-ripening in the abundant heat, and I'm hoping to be able to pick them in the next week or so. Found a recipe for making creme de cassis, so will add this to my boozy repertoire this year, along with more litres of damson gin.

My blog silence is testament, I suppose, to the amount of gardening that needs doing at the moment (both for myself and others) - seem to have little time to write as I'm either gardening, picking flowers or fruit, or dealing with the aftermath of these various activities.

Three weeks of glorious sunshine, unbroken by rain.  When was the last time we had that?  Welcome back summer - we've missed you!

Shiny thing spotted in sky.

Sun is out, sky is blue, birds are tweeting... Snow is on its way out - well everywhere except in my garden it seems.  That's the joy of a north-facing plot I suppose.  The white stuff lingers longer.

In the greenhouse, out of the cold wind, it is warm and snug and things are looking happy, if a little crowded.  Ousted most of my September sown seedlings (snap dragons, scabious, sweet williams) to the coldframes this week and dumped any sickly herberts that didn't seem to merit the space they were occupying.  Being very brutal when space is at such a premium.

Checked in my big cardboard box of dahlia tubers to see that those awaiting an acquaintance with soil were still in fine fettle.  Witteman's Best was looking eager to get going, showing little sprouts near the dessicated stalks on the tubers, so they got planted today - I now have a line up of pots in my living room in addition to the one in my bedroom.  Still have 5 Purple Gem and 5 Peaches dahlias to pot up, so hope the days continue to warm up so some of the piano top inhabitants can move towards the greenhouse to make room for another dahlia parade.

On our family day out to Baddesley Clinton, a National Trust property in Warwickshire yesterday, it was grimly comforting to see that the lack of growth on my patch is not just the result of disorganised ineptitude - the kitchen garden there was closed 'due to the recent poor weather' and was yet to be planted up. Neither were the borders were as far on as you'd expect for April, even in the walled garden. However, there were some lovely daffodils and hellebores around, and the primroses tucked into the grassy walks were just "aaaahhhh".

 What I found myself coveting were the lean-to greenhouses - I might know just the spot where one could live in my garden....

Came away from my visit with two very muddy happy children, 4 timed entrance tickets for the house which we'd never got round to using (we'll be back) as we were having too much fun outdoors, two primroses (couldn't resist - want to get lots of these going),  four Fentimans pop bottles (brilliant to cut down to use as sweet pea vases), and a bag full of foraged sheeps wool.  Why the latter? On a recent #britishflowers tweet up we were discussing pest and slug control and apparently sheeps wool is a very effective slug deterrent, so I have spread the top of my larkspur sown raised bed with a layer of it to protect any sprouts miraculously jolted into life by their spell in the cold.

I'm always amazed by the seeds that need this cold treatment.  My auriculas have now all emerged in the warm fug of the propagator following their two week banishment to the subzero nights and cold days in the greenhouse.  Have subjected my reluctant cleome sowings to the same treatment, but haven't had any success there yet. Will give them another couple of weeks to emerge or be chucked.

Steadily sowing sweet peas, still a few more batches to go to hopefully get a well-staggered harvest.  First batch of this year are almost ready to start hardening off now.  Roll on flowering time so I can press those pop bottles into service.

Last year's sweet peas in sawn off bottles - suddenly posh pop seems worth it!

Snow gardening

Sometimes you are given gifts which you like, but are not sure you will ever find a use for.  Such was my feeling when I was handed a pair of furry boot toppers by my mother-in-law at Christmas.  Any doubts about their usefulness have now been banished and they have proved effective snow excluders atop my walking boots for the past week.  Very useful for sledging and snow digging.

Armed with my spade and sweeping brush, I have just come in from clearing snow from shrubs - just as well I know my garden like the back of my hand so I can identify the lumpy forms of baby ones hidden in the thick snow.  My hydrangea heads have stood well through the winter, but this morning resembled heavy white footballs and threatened imminent snappage to their meagre branches. As I pinged the snow off, you could almost hear the plant sigh with relief as it boinged back into a more upright position.

As for the cold frame, it has taken on a whole new meaning:

It looks more like a cool box for a massive party than a nurturing place for plants.  However, hollyhocks, ammi majus and sweet peas still lurk comfortably within.  I know because I cleared the snow off the top and checked up on them.  I suppose the snow provides insulation against the cold and protects them slightly. I'm so impressed by the durability of these little annuals though, I think they deserve pride of place in the garden come March - maybe I should make a 'snow heroes' border?  I don't think any of their outdoor-sown contemporaries will emerge to keep them company. Indeed, as far as I can see, outdoor September sowings were a complete washout.  This year I'm tempted to stick to autumn sowing only under cover, or perhaps I should experiment with sowing earlier in September than I did in 2012.  Mind you, last year was such a growing disaster that I probably shouldn't use it as a yardstick for judging the efficacy of sowing times.

Snow jobs for now

Clear the glass of the greenhouse and the cold frame to allow more of winter's limited light to penetrate - do your plants a favour and get sweeping (or digging, depending on how much snowfall you got!).

Unburden your shrubs and woody plants, like rosemary and lavender, of snow to stop the branches snapping.

Make hot chocolate with marshmallows as a reward to yourself.

Structure time

Went out with the intention of sowing lots of veggies at the allotment this weekend but never got out of my own back garden.  Instead got sidetracked into making sweet pea wigwams and laying foundations for a brick wall.  Just a little wide of my original plan...

It started out with a quick perusal of the cold frame.  Decided that some of the early sown sweet peas were starting to look a bit less green than I'd like - probably running out of nutrients stuffed into their soggy loo roll tubes.  This spurred me to take a gamble on this warm and sunny weather and get them into a more permanent and nourishing spots... which in turn led me to making a wigwam (or leaning tower of hazel sticks).

This wigwam is something I've always had good intentions of doing, but never quite got round to.  As I have a garage loaded with hoops made out of the clematis stems, I decided to incorporate them into my design.  Am quite pleased with it - much better than last year's last emergency version made out of thick tree boughs (and hopefully it will be more effective too!).  

I've also leaned some of the very tall, twiggy sambucus nigra prunings up against the evil thorny boughs of the rambling rose (Pleine de Grace - or "pleine de **&^%)* thorns" as I always curse it loudly each time I have to interact with it).  Have planted a few sweet peas at the feet of these too - a decorative barrier to stop me having to stoop anywhere near the clothes ripping claws which festoon the rose branches.

Gardening with a budding junior builder is always a good catalyst to make me do the hard landscaping jobs I'd naturally put off forever. So, having emptied the water butt next to the shed, I was able to remove the sagging stand made out of an old pallet, and begin the work to build a brick built platform topped with slabs to stand it on.  Out with the reference books, and in with the concrete into my self-built formwork (just as well my dad always salvages old timber from skips - knew it might come in handy one day).  Feeling very pleased with myself for expanding my skills -  until I discover unforeseen cockups in its construction.   I'll keep you posted as the wall gets erected!


Did manage to set out some lettuce seeds, and a bit of red Orach (my computer keeps changing this to 'roach' - annoyingly) which I hope will give me height, decorative seed heads for flower arrangements, interesting salad leaves and some lovely pinky purple colour in the borders.

More good news: the seed tray of verbena bonariensis which I'd despaired of (just one leggy seedling emerging after three weeks of taking up half my heated propagator) is starting to sprout prolifically in the cold greenhouse.  Not sure if the increased light levels have triggered it, or the cold nights, but either way I'm chuffed to be on the way to re-stocking my garden with one of my favourite plants.  Used to have forests of it ('The Scratchy Plant' as my children called it following various grazings from its sandpapery stems), but it has gradually dwindled over a few cold winters and is now down to about 4 self-sown seedlings.