News from the Veg Patch

I'd like to say that this year's growing season has been a triumph but ... sadly, no.  

But let's start with something cheerful - these nasturtiums are helpfully climbing up through the raspberry canes, the sight of their lovely vibrant flowers just sings happiness to me.

Elsewhere in the veg garden, things are not looking so rosy.  Ideally, the veg patch could have done with spring warmth and summer rain; instead, like many other gardeners, I've found the weather this year has done me and the garden no favours.  

Weeds have thrived, edible plants have not.  

Although, that said, I had a fantastic strawberry season ... over 3 kilos of tasty berries! (I think that equates to nearly 7 lbs. Impressive.)  The berries were mostly untouched by slugs, snails or birds without any protection (remarkable, given the wet weather) and the plants kept producing over several weeks. Copious rain followed by warm ripening sun seems to be the magic formula for success.  

If only I could bottle that and bring it out every year!

But no beans, peas, leeks or courgettes for me this year. What marauding molluscs didn't decimate, the heatwave finished off. Several times I've seriously considered ripping it all up and starting again with perennial flowers. But, as the saying goes, Keep Calm and Carry On Gardening. 

My tomatoes, on the other hand, are looking very promising. (I'm an optimist.) I planted them out late this year due to the chill weather so things are a bit behind schedule but green fruit has started to appear. And, this year, I diligently removed (almost) all of those little side shoots growing between the leaf and stem; a few have escaped me but I've left them alone as they've formed trusses of fruit. (Probably a mistake.) I'm watering daily and feeding every Friday and have recently pinched out the growing tops of my cordon (indeterminate) tomatoes. 

Why feed weekly on a Friday rather than, say, Monday? Because I love a bit of alliteration so 'Feed on Friday' makes for a good aide memoire.

Still on the bright side of things, apples from both the Braeburn and Core Blimey trees are looking good. They're dropping in droves from the branches but the flavour isn't there yet - it's more cardboard than crisp for now. 

Blueberries and gooseberries have also been surprisingly good and plump; Chilean guava berries, not so much. Thanks, heatwave.

The Morello cherry trees, however, which are usually of minimal interest to the birds here, were stripped bare of fruit as soon as they ripened. A phenomenon that I found both puzzling and annoying. Who were the culprits for the meticulous denuding of my Morellos?  People or birds? My money's on the pigeons.

There will be no fruit from the quince tree either. There was lots of quince blossom in the spring but not enough bees around to pollinate them. Another climate casualty.

And what of the pear and plum trees? Pears are ripening out of reach at the top of the tree, and there are no plums. Again.  That's fifteen fruit bearing years with nothing to show for it; I may have to deploy my recently serviced chainsaw. 

So that's my veg patch year so far ... more food for thought than food for the table but there's still the winter brassicas to plant out. 
 

A Feast for the Senses

 

I was reminded the other morning how rare are those times when it becomes possible to just slow down and deeply relish the moment without any of the distractions of modern life. 

I'd been down to the veg patch to water my tomatoes and, as I walked swiftly back through the gardens on my way home and towards work, I saw how quickly a few days of warm weather had ripened the blackberries on wild brambles growing untamed in one of the borders.  

I slowed down to eat a couple, lingered on to pick a small handful and then I started to look for a pot to gather enough for a pudding, a smoothie or jam. That sweet/sharp burst of juiciness was so moreish!

It was a meditative moment.

As I lingered over the picking of fruit, I relished the warmth of early morning sun after weeks of chill grey skies, the sight of the plump berries growing tall against a clear blue sky and gradually became aware of the sweet scent of honeysuckle flowers rippling towards me on the warm breeze. 

These brambles have been allowed to thrive in an untended border, pushing their way through Cornus stems, an Elaeagnus shrub, honeysuckle vines and a very large pink flowering Hebe. It was the Hebe that has always been a magnet for bees and so I gathered berries to the gentle hum of foraging honey bees and birdsong emanating from neighbouring hedges.  

As juice from the fruit stained my fingers, it occurred to me that this short interlude to my day appealed to all of my senses; it was a blissful, peaceful, hugely satisfying moment. 

It's not that where I live is noisy - planes drone quietly overhead, trains swoosh past, sirens wail, horns beep in the distance, the usual everyday city sounds - but a prolonged moment of stillness among nature is a moment to be cherished.

It reminded me of the time I lived by the sea. There, I would sit on the pebble beach, listen to the waves washing onto the shore and the gulls wheeling overhead, and watch the sun set in the west. Even then, (it was a long time ago), I could appreciate the beauty of the moment.

And now I have my garden spaces and nearby Heath.  Often, for me, the mindful benefits of gardening are limited to the satisfaction of a task finished, the physical movement involved in all that bending and stretching and the joy of a well earned good night's sleep.  

But it's the times we slow down and feel gratitude that life becomes mindful.

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In case you're wondering, blackberries freeze well laid out flat on a tray then bagged up when frozen so I'll put a batch in the freezer to enjoy over winter. In the meantime though, I like the sound of the blackberry muffins and pie from this London based blogger:

https://vikalinka.com/bakery-style-blackberry-muffins/

And sow it begins - an early March update

Tulips have started to flower already!

Today I've been wondering why spring is called spring. Yes, I know, my brain frequently flies off at a tangent. The answer should be obvious but I love a bit of etymology.   In Old English 'spring' meant a welling up of water, a wellspring ... rather than a falling down of water from the sky as is the case today! The word also meant to arise, gush or burst forth which is certainly the case with my garden this year.  

It's a fabulous season, from the daffodils and violets blooming to the whole garden visibly coming back to life.  But it's the magic held in a few packets of seeds that holds the power to excite.  I love every stage of the process from sowing the seeds, the thrill of seeing them germinate and then nurturing my plant babies into maturity. (And then, of course, eating some of them. Although I often find the plants so beautiful that I can hardly bear to denude the garden of their loveliness.)

So, on that basis, February was pretty exciting despite torrents of rain; the winter was relatively mild here in the UK south so February saw the first seeds being sown here in Veg Patch Villas. 

I poopoo-ed the advice of the 'experts' telling me not to sow until mid March.  I worked on the assumption that if it all failed, I would have time to start again. So ... into little Jiffy coir pellets on Valentine's Day went seeds of tomato, chilli, aubergine, and lunchbox cucumbers.  Cosmos and courgettes were sown in the last days of February and Tagetes (marigolds), leeks and physalis (Cape Gooseberry) were started in module trays in the first week of March.  

Outside, at the beginning of February, I filled the gaps between overwintered parsley and chervil in the Veg Trugs with spinach and radish - both of which are coming along nicely. The soil in the Veg Trugs is fairly free draining so the seeds probably enjoyed the regular downpours and sheltered location.  I've not grown spinach in early spring before (who knew it was so hardy!) but it's worth doing as it will bolt more readily in hot weather. Another lesson learned. 

Broad beans that I sowed into pots at the beginning of December and germinated on my balcony were planted out at the end of February - all sturdy little plants that have survived a few deluges in the past week. Regular checks show no slug damage ... so far so good.

Pea and Sweet Pea seedlings enjoying a spot of high-rise sunshine.

Lastly, as I reckon peas are fairly hardy and I had a spare set of root trainers, I sowed 32 tall pea seeds (Champion of England from DT Brown) on the 23rd Feb - they're now a couple of inches tall (fast growers!) and have escaped any hungry mice that would have devoured the seeds if sown direct into the soil.

I'll plant those peas out next week and sow another patch of peas (Kelvedon Wonder, a short pea) towards the end of the month, together with another round of broad bean seeds. This time, the Crimson flowered variety; I sowed white and crimson flowered beans next to each other a few years ago and had some very beautiful variations in the flowers as the bees cross pollinated the plants! That, in my view, is what keeps things interesting. 

The next job will be potting on my tomatoes.  Those little three week old seedlings already have their first set of true leaves so I want to bury the stems a bit and give them more root room.  It will be a while before they're ready to go out into the shelter of my balcony so burying the stems will strengthen the plants and reduce any etiolation.

And then I'll have to find space for germinating the next round of seeds indoors; I'll be adding kales, beetroot and broccoli to my seed starting station (aka my breakfast table).  But, you never know, by mid March the soil may well be warm enough to sow direct outdoors. 

Down in the veg patch, milder temperatures are having a noticeable effect. Wild garlic is ready to be harvested, as is chard and broccoli - and, no, I haven't finished digging up the Jerusalem Artichokes. I've taken a couple of half bucketfuls to a friend who adores the tubers, makes a fine soup from them (must get that recipe!) and isn't troubled by the gurgling gastronomic consequences of eating them. 

What I have done though is cleared a lot of the self seeded violets, feverfew, and forget-me-nots to create space for more food growing. Plants to encourage pollinators will now have to be interspersed with veg as companion plants which is definitely a good thing and in true cottage garden style. 

One useful and timely tip for a companion plant is that garlic has a beneficial relationship with strawberries. Thank you Ben from Grow Veg YouTube channel - he mentioned this tip in his Strawberry Masterclass video.  I've been sorting out my strawberry bed as I didn't give it enough attention last year; this year I've cut off old leaves, transplanted the plants from last years runners, given it all a sprinkling of blood, fish and bone to boost the soil and will now plant my module grown garlic in between the strawberry plants.  And then, as usual, I'll surround the plants with a layer of Strulch - the straw mulch that gradually composts down to benefit the soil and that will also protect my strawberries from slugs and snails in the summer.  

So, as ever … onwards! 

Happy gardening  👩‍🌾