A fruitful visit to RHS Wisley's orchards

As Chief (some might say 'only') Grower in the food garden here, I enjoy an opportunity to see what other people are up to, so it was with a happy heart that I went to have a good nosey around the orchards and trial grounds at RHS Wisley.  Here's what I found.

Harking back to my perennial fascination with the art of pruning, I couldn't help but notice the way the apple trees have been shaped over the years. Look at the way whole branches have been pruned off these trees, leaving the centres open for ventilation and better pollination. The pruning cuts seen on young trees were also very edifying - look where the central leader has been removed on the tree in the middle.  It's healed over, possibly a couple of years past, so I assume this shaping is to encourage production of fruit. Return visits with my membership mean that I can pop back to see how that's working out.

There's something very special about seeing this range of varieties and the ways in which the trees are managed. I'd love to know more and hope to find out on one of the Wisley courses. The Summer Fruit Pruning workshop in July looks mighty tempting and I'll definitely be thinning out my plum trees this summer so a boost of knowledge would be put to good use.

Onwards to the trained fruit. I do love the look of this, it's just so clever, so neat and tidy.  I wish I'd known how to do this with our fruit trees at home. It not only looks beautiful but is productive and perfect for a small growing space or as an edible boundary.  (I recall my grandad used espaliered apples to cleverly section off his allotment area from the rest of his 150 ft long garden.)  A range of shapes can be seen: pear and cherry trees growing as fans, apples grown as step-overs and cordons against the shed.

I stopped to photograph the step-overs - making note of the tub that each tree is being grown in and how the length of the main stem has been bent and tied in with pruned spurs left for fruit bearing. I imagine they'll be moved in the future once the trial is finished and illustrates how well a tree will do in a good sized tub (and the right care).

I was intrigued by the way grapevines (top left) are being grown, up a column. Where's it going to go when it reaches the top - or will it be stopped? Very interesting, worth following up. It was the same in January when I came across a row of gooseberry standards. Eh?  I thought they had to be grown in a low growing goblet shape (so the berries could be accessed without injury). I'll make a point of going back because if this works, this is very good news for growers with little space.  I must admit that I've pruned my redcurrant bush as a standard although it hasn't given me more than a small bowlful of fruit yet!

There is much to be learned here.  Strawberries are spaced far apart; at home, mine are pretty much crammed in as nature would have it. Not that I have an option, space is in short supply, but I wonder what the benefits are of leaving that much room between plants. Bigger strawberries, do you think? Less slug attack?

Note the straw mulch over the raspberry beds - a good way to keep the soil moist in hot or windy weather.

And these raspberries… In the past I've pulled out all the runners, now I'm thinking I should leave a few as long as they stay within the set boundaries. What do others do, I wonder?

But it was the rhubarb trials that were the real eye-opener.  Four wide beds with two plants of each cultivar growing on each side.  There were over 60 rhubarb varieties growing there! Most I'd never heard of but noted the difference in size - the 'Earlies' were huge while others had barely started to put out leaves; others had much thicker stems and smaller leaves; some had the bulbous centre growth that also heralded the flowering of my rhubarb. Again, worth taking note of any varieties that appeal as rhubarb plants can produce over many years so choosing a monster plant for a small garden may cause regret. Specialist fruit suppliers will be able to advise on the wide range of choice available.

But for any gardeners reading this who grow blackcurrants, I'll leave you with this advice from the RHS. Their bushes have been cut down to try and eradicate Big Bud Mite as indicated by this sign.  I don't grow blackcurrants but, if I did, I'd be checking the buds right now.

Blossom, bulbs, bunnies and bees - Spring at RHS Wisley

Rhododendron, Hellebore, Magnolia stellata,
Primula 'Iris Mainwaring', Skimmia, bee on comfrey.

Last weekend I had to return a plant to the nursery at Wisley. I'd bought two identical white Echinacea in mid-January; one grew, the other didn't. No problem, the RHS nurseries guarantee their plants so I was confident of getting a replacement or refund. As a bonus, the sun was shining so the trip also provided a good excuse to use my membership to have a wander round the gardens.

There was a Lindt sponsored bunny hunt over the school holidays, an excellent idea to tempt visitors into all areas, with the promise of chocolate at the end. Who could resist? Not I! I collected a form and kept an eye out - even adults like a treasure hunt! It also provided a good framework for my walk, taking me through areas that I explore less frequently like the Glasshouse, Rockery and  Children's play area.

I had every intention of making this a short-ish visit, a couple of hours max.  But that's just silly.  Even at this time of year, I was stopping every few paces to take photos or peer at a label - hence the delay in writing this post, so many photos!  I'd last visited in mid-January in search of scent, winter colour and texture; in the three month interim, most of that has now, as expected, been overtaken by spring planting. People not busy hunting for gold bunnies were busy photographing the magnolias in full bloom - a breathtaking sight on a sunny day.

As ever, I found wandering around such an education.  Admittedly, I'm completely addicted to plants but there really is no substitute for seeing established plants growing throughout the year or how to combine plants for maximum effect: Muscari under a gorgeous ornamental cherry (Prunus 'Shirotae') or primula next to saxifraga growing out of a wall in the rock garden, sedums (starting spring growth but with last year's seedheads intact) next to grasses Eragrostis curvula. Often shrubs will grow much larger than nurseries would have us believe, given the right conditions - at Wisley, you'll see how big that unpruned bay (Laurus nobilis), sweet box (Sarcococca) or Fatsia will grow! (I walked around a huge mature Fatsia, checking to see if it really was just the one shrub. It was.)

Banks of Skimmia took over where January's Daphne odorata left off, scenting the air all around; white camellias were still looking good while the red camellias were getting a bit, well, past it.  I walked past swathes of Erythronium 'Pagoda' on my way up to the orchard, a small woodland plant I was particularly taken with. Useful and beautiful ground cover is always worth noting.

Erythronium 'Pagoda'

The pruning in the orchard is a lesson in itself which I'll cover in a second post on the soft fruits and edibles growing at Wisley. I always have a look at the trial grounds when I visit, it's so interesting to see the methods that are used and what's growing. The route that I usually walk to get there is via the Glasshouse Borders; as a big fan of Piet Oudolf planting, this is my must-visit part of the gardens. In January the borders were breathtakingly lovely in their midwinter monochrome with the dried seedheads of herbaceous perennials left intact; now those have been cut back as new growth comes through and all is green and fresh, albeit seen at a distance as the borders have been roped off while the grass is reseeded.

Part of my bunny hunt directed me into the glasshouse. There were two bunnies to be found here but first you had to tear yourself away from the scented air at the entrance! Scented plants had been lavishly arranged around citrus trees - it was an extraordinary treat to smell the gorgeous clove like scent of a dianthus or sweet pea in April!

Sweet peas, freesia, dianthus, Linaria reticulata 'Flamenco', Heliotrope and geranium

Lilies clambering up through palms gave me more than one photographic Georgia O'Keeffe moment and heavily scented stocks (Matthiola incana) added to the perfume although eventually I reached sensory overload and had to move on. All of these can be grown outdoors in the garden in the summer. (Although a neighbour here in NW5 has freesias in bloom in a sunny spot under her window as I type!)

I admit that I hadn't expected the gardens to offer so much of a sensory treat this early in the gardening year but there's always something to take away from a garden visit whatever the time of year. In my case that was literally true as I came away with a haul of useful pollinator plants plus some low maintenance/high visual plants for my mum's garden. More importantly, I found so much inspiration for transitioning 'spring into summer'/'shade into light' planting, no matter what size a garden is - an invaluable resource for a fledgling garden designer.

There are heaps more photos which I haven't found room for here so, if interested, have a look at  my Flickr slideshow and I strongly recommend a visit soon - I've pencilled my next visit into the diary already.

Cut It Out! Cure and prevention for flowering rhubarb

Gardening is a such an education,  isn't it?  I've been fascinated by bulbous growths erupting from the middle of the rhubarb plants here.  It looks like the plant is giving birth as the outer leaves stretch back to reveal the crown of the seed head. (Too much?)

Seeing this for the first time, it's been utterly mesmerising. I wish I'd taken one photo a day for the past week.  I find the seed heads to be weirdly beautiful, but let's not linger on that thought because this is the rhubarb flowering before setting seed. I found that out only yesterday which left me with two questions: one, Is my rhubarb about to die?  two, What causes this to happen?

The answers happily are that no death is imminent but the plant is putting energy into producing seed rather than tasty stems.  This happens when the plant is stressed and deciding to cut its losses by reproducing itself via seeds. The plant can be stressed by lack of nutrients, lack of water or damage from pests. (That will be number two for me, I think.) Flowering is also more usually seen in mature plants especially where the crown has become congested.

I have three rhubarb(s) - one Glaskins' Perpetual grown from seed three years ago and two Red Champagne planted as bare roots last year. (I didn't realise how big they grew and how productive they are. #education.) The Glaskins is planted in a sunny spot, while the Champagnes sit in partial shade. None of them get nearly enough water, particularly in the dry and warm weather we've had recently (don't get me started on the lack of a nearby tap!).

So, solutions?

• Cure: cut off the flowering stalk as close to the plant as you can, right at the bottom of the stalk.  Use a sharp, clean knife to minimise any damage to the plant that might attract slugs or other pests. You can then eat the remaining stems as normal. Yum yum, rhubarb and custard cake o'clock. (See my Pinterest Eat: Spring kitchen board for links to recipes.)

• Prevention:  Enrich the soil around the plant with a few chicken manure pellets, water well and mulch with a good thick layer of compost or well rotted organic matter to prevent the soil from drying out. And by 'thick', I mean a couple of inches of mulch but don't bury the crown as it may rot.  Then try and keep the plants well watered from then on. 

Right. Time for me to go and find a sharp kitchen knife and a large vase. Apparently the stalks last well as a cut flower - bonus! 

PS. I wish I didn't have to cut the flower stalk because, looking at my top photo, they really are extraordinary stems that probably deserve a place in an edible ornamental garden! 

A whole lot of fencing going on

We've definitely been spoiled this past week - a bank holiday and good weather. The British climate can sometimes spring us a nice surprise. (Pun intended!)  I've even wondered where I left the sun cream. A glance back over my fortnight would show some sorting of plants, a bit of seed sowing and copious amounts of time cobbling together fence barriers around the food garden.

Each raised bed was previously protected with 2ft high netting; even so, I spent a good hour cleaning the empty beds of animal poo (again). Whatever these creatures are, they've managed to get through the defences and leave evidence of their visits. Foxes are allegedly partial to eating worms so that's another reason to keep animals off the soil. It was time to devise a new system of defence.

Using a metal spike to make holes deep into the clay under my soil, I've bashed 6ft canes into the ground around the perimeter of the food garden and tied 3ft high netting or wire mesh to these. Including the height of the surrounding low wall, that will present a 4ft barrier to jump. Hopefully they won't bother, unless we have particularly athletic cats and foxes around our part of town. All that remains is to find a way of letting gardeners get easy access and I'll be ready for a trial run. Then I can start planting.

It will be with some trepidation that I remove the netting from around each bed but, on the plus side, the beds will be much more accessible for weeding and for small fingers to explore and plant. A few of the kids here are keen to help with the garden and even to have a patch of their own. Answering one of their questions during the week, I explained that the people who help in the garden get to share the produce. One of the children immediately volunteered to help with growing strawberries, raspberries and gooseberries. Funny that. Volunteers for carrots and potatoes were thinner on the ground.  Ho ho, little do they know!

I've used whatever materials I had (apart from buying another 10 tall canes and a piece of expanding willow for the 'gate') and was gifted a 10 metre roll of coated chicken wire from a gardening neighbour. The veg patch island is 26 metres all around (about 86 feet) - that's quite a budget breaker, so the remaining fencing was recycled from around the beds and the gaps filled with some pond netting that I had.  I noticed that bees can fly easily through the mesh but have to find a way over the netting. As you know, I'm very fond of my bees and hoverflies. The fence is currently about 50:50 mesh and netting so, if the fencing works, I'll invest in more coated mesh in the future. (And the netting can go over my brassicas.)

Meanwhile, let's have a look round the garden in early April. The daffs and cowslips are beginning to fade, the tulips planted Dec 2013 are open again (excellent spend of £5 for 50 supermarket bulbs!) and clumps of muscari, primulas, sweet scented violets and honeywort (Cerinthe) are providing a magnet for passing bees. As is the calabrese blossom left to go to seed. As the blossom is out on the plum trees, with other fruit not far behind, I'm hoping these bees will tarry awhile. Winter is definitely behind us and this is a good start to spring but let's not forget it could all still go pear shaped despite the warm sunshine of the past few days.

There's lots happening elsewhere in the garden but that will have to be for another post as the sun is shining, the fencing is finished and it's my day off so proper spade and fork gardening beckons!

Looking at fencing is a tad dull.  Have a bee on calabrese flowers instead.

Easter garden veg pizza (with pdf recipe)

Goodness, my son eats a lot! I'm sure that won't surprise mothers of teenage boys or young men still living at home but, while my son's been away at Uni, it had temporarily slipped my mind how much cooking is entailed during a visit home. And the cost. He's very partial to pizza - usually the expensive shop bought ones - and manages to eat a whole 10" pizza in one sitting while I'm not fussed about pizza at all - it's all that claggy cooked cheese.  However, talk to me about veg pizza and I might be persuaded  - as with a recently discovered recipe.

This recipe may also be quite timely for anyone with a little bit of leftover lamb following an Easter roast but not quite enough for a Shepherd's Pie. (Spinach could be substituted for chard.)

Leafing through a Rachel Allen's 'Everyday Kitchen' for inspiration (it's due back at the library any day now), I came across an appealing recipe for Chard, Feta and Lamb pizza.  It caught my attention because, amazingly, I had all the ingredients to hand, either in the fridge or garden. How often does that happen!? (Less shopping time equals more gardening time.) I also had a couple of pizza bases in the freezer, having put some dough aside for these during my last bread making session.  I wasn't sure that my son would eat the chard pizza so first made him a tomato/cheese/bacon and mushroom combo before concentrating on making mine. 

A quick walk to the garden netted a basket of baby-ish chard leaves and spring onions (plus some broccoli for a stir fry later); a happy 15 minutes in the kitchen was spent cooking the veg and then topping the pizza, followed by a very satisfied 5 minutes eating it.  The leftover lamb and smell of toasted cumin seeds tempted my son to sample a slice - the verdict? Mmm, delicious! (as he snuck towards a second helping… )

Of course, if you have a few pizza bases in the freezer, this makes a brilliant 'Empty The Fridge' fun supper as everyone gets to choose their favourite toppings - even if that does include cheddar. ;)

If you fancy having a go at making this pizza, I've written up the recipe as a printable PDF - just click on this link.

Here are the videos for making dough (they may not work in the PDF recipe):
Great British Chefs make pizza dough
Richard Bertinet method of making and kneading dough (this is the one I use)

I've got a little behind

… said the actress to the Bishop.  Seriously though, the last few weeks have been less than productive. After my recent major headache, and tiring stuff happening at work, I was looking forward to having a whole week of time for myself.  Of course, that didn't happen.  I contracted a flu like virus and had to take to my bed for a week, getting up only so I could build myself back up ready for work again and another 200 mile dash to visit my parents in Hampshire.  Isn't that always the way?

I had high hopes of getting some seeds sown and gardening done but it wasn't to be. I wasn't even up to reading or planning, let alone blogging or commenting. (Sorry for dropping off the radar, I'll be back to catching up this weekend, I hope!) I felt the need to eat well having had a week of enforced detox so I've revelled in being able to pop down to the garden and slice off a few purple sprouting broccoli stems or cavolo nero leaves to add to grains, beans or chick peas.  We've had some gorgeously warm weather over the past few days so it was great to pop down to the garden this morning and see that spring has got underway.  Light at the end of the tunnel, I hope.

Anyone out there remember my late summer sowing experiment?  Although nothing much grew over winter, the beds were filled with plants from seed sown or plugs planted out in August last year - rows of rainbow chard, spinach, carrots, golden and red beetroot, russian kale (the pink frilly stuff) and small cavolo nero plants.

Clockwise from top left:
Ruby chard; Burpees golden beetroot; Cavolo nero kale;spinach/Bulls blood beetroot, carrots

Well, thanks to another relatively mild winter (at least here in London), all of these plants are ready to grow away strongly.  The leaf plants are still small but there are pickings of chard, kales and spinach.

Yes, that really is as big as it looks. 

I also planted out home-grown plug plants of romanesco cauliflower and various broccoli plants - autumn broccoli, christmas broccoli, spring broccoli, etc - the plan being that I'd get a succession of broccoli sprouting one after the other. To a degree, it's worked and those have grown amazingly well.  I've almost had a problem eating enough PSB to keep up - the three plants that I grew are really kicking out sprouts now so I've picked a big bunch and popped the stems into jugs of water to keep them fresh.  (The young leaves are delicious as well!)

There was also a tiny romanesco cauliflower that I watched excitedly for weeks, waiting for it to get big enough to pick. That one has become huge over the past couple of weeks - a meal for 3 or 4 in itself!

That cauliflower is bigger than my hand!

Parsley sown last summer is now growing strongly, as other perennial herbs (fennel, thyme, chives, mint and lemon balm) all start back into growth.

So, although this is lovely having lots of veg to choose from, I haven't quite got it right - something to bear in mind when planning the timing of seed sowing this year.  Not wishing to sound ungrateful, but I could do with having one broccoli plant ready while another is still growing.  I've almost managed this as I have a green broccoli just starting to sprout but before then I have to eat my way through several huge heads of cauliflower and lots of PSB. Next year, I want to have several mini caulis rather than one big one - I'm the only one that likes cauli in my home!  Having said that, it's definitely time to sow a new round of brassicas as I don't think there's such a thing as having too much kale or broccoli in the garden and I quite fancy growing some of those fancy flower sprouts this year as well.

So I'm off for a good look through my seed box with pen and paper to hand.  Happy days!

Wednesday plant ident

Can anyone help me identify this plant?  I went for a wander in the Regency Garden near to my parents' house on the south coast last Sunday.  Gorgeous sunshine, lots of plants waking up and I even saw my first bumble bee buzzing manically from plant to plant!

The garden was a wreck 20 years ago and has been completely transformed by local gardening volunteers to its current Green Flag status.  The planting design is based on which plants would have been used when it was first built in the early 1800's - hence 'Regency Garden'.

There were so many lovely plants there and a wonderful tranquil atmosphere - even a couple of trees that I may be tree following this year (Monkey Puzzle and Tulip tree).  A few years ago I would have been hard pushed to identify many of the plants and shrubs in this garden but I was relieved to find that my memory was up to naming most of the plants last weekend - except this one.  The oval leaves are about 2 inches long on long branching untidy stems. This shrub stood just over a metre high, in an untidy dome shape.  There's no scent on the leaves - I rubbed them as they reminded me of sage or Salvia but surely it's too early in the year for that.  I feel I should know this plant but it escapes me!

I love the look of these little purple flowers (again, the shape is so familiar) so I'd like to fix in my head what this shrub is.  Wild guesses, positive identification and other suggestions gratefully received!

(I'll be back with more photos from this garden but came away from a busy and quite stressful weekend looking after my parents with a three day headache and haven't felt inclined to sit in front of the computer until now.)

A small winter of dis/content

“A lot of people like snow. I find it to be an unnecessary freezing of water.” 

― Carl Reiner (Actor in Ocean's Eleven)

Oh boy, was I happy when I opened the curtains on Tuesday morning to find that a blanket of snow had settled overnight.  Only a thin blanket, mind, so I knew it wouldn't last.

I love the stillness of fresh new snow but I'm not so keen once it's been trampled or the disruption it causes. Luckily I was working from home that day so I popped outside to take a few photos for the blog (as you do) before it all melted.

As Flighty has said in his snowy post, I was expecting to see animal footprints, particularly as I've seen several very bold (and obviously hungry) foxes around in the past week, but there was nothing except pristine clean snow. A few photos and numb fingers later, I headed for home.  It was then, as I retreated back to the warmth of my flat, that I slipped on an icy patch. As I grabbed hold of a rail to steady myself, the sudden movement ripped at a muscle at the top of my arm. Ouch!

Luckily my plants are made of sterner stuff - the broccoli, PSB, kale and even new shoots on the chive plants appear almost waterproof and shrugged off the effects of snow.

By midday the snow had melted away; two days later, the pain in my arm is also easing. I can only hope that's winter over and done with. 

“Winter is nature's way of saying, "Up yours.” 

― Robert Byrne (Author)

"Pruners learn by pruning"

Pear harvest, 2014. Not to scale! 

Pruning has a reputation for being scary, right? It makes new gardeners nervous because of the very real possibility that a tree or shrub can be pruned into non-fruiting, non-flowering or, worst of all, non-existence.  I love a bit of pruning, everything looks tidier afterwards but I have to remember that I'm no expert and have a tendency to be a tad over-enthusiastic with the snippers. As such, I'm always open to any tips which will increase my knowledge (and therefore confidence) in how to do this job properly to benefit the plant, especially where my fruit trees are concerned.

My pear trees have been on my mind because so far in their short lives (six years), they've yet to bear fruit. They're Conference pears and although they're self-fertile, I have two of them for better pollination.  Last year there was lots of blossom, lots of bees, lots of teeny tiny fruit and then the slow realisation that they'd all fallen off. I did find a solitary two inch long fruit that had fallen from the tree in high winds midsummer but that was it for 2014.

The pear trees in the veg patch garden were one year old bare root whips on a 'semi-dwarfing' Quince C rootstock when we planted them in December 2009.  I knew very little about pruning and believed that the rootstock would limit the trees to what I then thought was an acceptable 3 metres tall (around 10 feet).  I also thought they were supposed to fruit within 3 to 4 years.  Well, time has proved me wrong.

Fruit trees in March 2014 - plums nearest, then apples, then pears. 

The height of the trees now makes me think that we've planted them too close together, fitting 8 fruit trees into a 35 ft long border.  The intention had been to plant 4 of each variety (pear, plum, apple, cherry) in the border with a matching border on the other side of the garden.  Biting winds and a lack of time changed our plans and all 8 went in together.  Last summer I looked at the dense canopy of the plum and pear trees (no fruit on either) and had recurring thoughts about chopping down one of each tree to open things up.

Luckily a Plan B has emerged in the shape of a few videos and book recently reviewed on Emma Cooper's blog - Grow a Little Fruit Tree by Ann Ralph.  I immediately bought a copy and read it within the next couple of days. I've also watched You Tube videos (links below) by Paul Gautschi (reknowned for being a master arborist in his Back to Eden garden in the USA) and Bill Merrill, a Californian edible landscape gardener.  All these people believe in keeping their trees to a manageable height (no more than six feet) for ease of pruning and fruit picking. Apple branches are pruned to grow outward, so that no branch shadows another, or down because horizontal branches crop more heavily. Pear centres are opened up - as Bill Merrill says "So the little birdies can fly through the middle" (possibly where I've been going wrong) and they've found that their trees still give a good crop but without having to persuade neighbours to take the excess after making industrial quantities of preserves.

Braeburn apples last summer. This is a spur bearing tree  with the apples hanging from near horizontal branches.
Pruning will promote spur growth. 

The book's author, Ann Ralph, believes pruning should be done twice a year - around the winter solstice for growth and the summer solstice for shaping.  The theory goes that in late winter the tree is ready to break dormancy with the energy going up the trunk and into the limbs. By late summer the energy is directed downwards, back into the roots, as the tree prepares for winter dormancy again.  Winter pruning stimulates growth, pushing the tree's energy out into the remaining limbs. Summer pruning does not have this effect and is done to shape the tree aesthetically and to manage fruit production.

It all sounds so plausible and logical. Also, there are lines in her book which really resonate with me:

Fruit tree pruning […] is less of a science and more of a conversation. You prune, the tree answers, you prune again.

We're not talking chit-chat here but cause and effect. This reminds me of the Chelsea Chop, which is timed to promote vigorous and healthy growth for the flower show, and deadheading in our own gardens to prolong flowering.  All plants will respond to the attention that we give them.

On the subject of rootstocks (remember my pear trees are on semi-dwarfing rootstocks), Ann writes:

Semidwarf means only "smaller than standard". If a full-size tree is thirty feet tall, then a semidwarf might grow to be as high as twenty-five feet.  

Yikes.  This is a comment well-aimed at urban and small garden growers. Big trees will block the light; smaller trees are more suited to a domestic garden. And the smaller the tree, the more can be fitted into the garden, increasing the varieties that can be grown by an individual. There's also the more practical aspect of reaching the fruit on a tall tree.  I'm 5'2" - how am I going to pick fruit at the top of a 15 foot tree? I won't. It will fall to the ground and rot.

There's a little voice in my head reminding me of air-borne diseases and other reasons why we're advised to prune when we do (stone fruit in summer, pomes in winter) but I can't help being swayed by these arguments.  I'm going to give it a go. In fact, I started on my apple trees last weekend, taking a more considered approach than before.  (Winter pruning lets you see the shape of the tree clearly.) The pears are next, an altogether more daunting prospect given their height.  The proof will be in the pudding - hopefully, pear pie and apple crumble! - this coming summer. (Or maybe next.)

Apple trees before pruning: leaning together, tangled branches.

And after pruning: One main leader stem and strong branches not touching.

And any mistakes that I may make can be corrected in the next prune and will only help to improve my experience. The title of this post is a quote taken from the book; it will be true whatever the outcome.

Links:
You Tube: Worst case and best case pear tree pruning by Bill Merrill (GreenGardenGuy)
You Tube: How to prune apple trees by Paul Gautschi (Back to Eden)

PS.  I'm sending my thanks to Erin at Organic Gardening in Sidney (Canada) for sharing the Back to Eden pruning video on her blog which is where I first saw it some time back. Thank you, Erin!

Scents and sensibility

(Now there's a title that's been trotted out more than once in blogland, I'll wager.)

(I don't need to tell you this is Honeysuckle, do I?)

In the winter months, while waiting for the garden to wake up, there's something really special about the scent of flowers on the breeze or in the still of an evening. It's there to attract pollinators and is particularly helpful to bumblebees who start to wake up in January and need to stock up their food reserves.

I've been thinking about scent in the garden since being asked to advise on a bare patch of earth destined to become a front garden. The client is a florist who wants her garden to be welcoming and uplifting whether viewed from the street or indoors. So my recommendations will encompass scent, colour, movement and seasonal interest.  I then read that Sue, author of Backlane Notebook blog, and Louise 'Wellywoman' Curley were proposing a monthly round up post of the scent in our gardens. Open to all, join in! Wellywoman's first post is here.

I headed outside to see what was scenting the air locally.  There are two stands of Viburnum x bodnantense 'Dawn' in the gardens here - a shrub well-known for its subtle scent and pretty flower clusters in the middle of winter. I say "subtle" but at times I've been able to get a whiff from a good five paces away.

Viburnum x bodnantense 'Dawn'

There's also some ancient honeysuckle snaking through an overgrown Hebe - I think it's Japanese honeysuckle which is supposed to flower in summer but I found a few blossoms among the evergreen leaves and quickly snipped those for a vase indoors. They're wilting after five days but even now I can catch a whiff as I walk past.

But an unusual winter niff, at least from these gardens, is from Petasites fragrans.  Popularly known as Winter Heliotrope and related to Sweet Coltsfoot and Butterburr, it's more commonly found on roadsides and woodland verges. It's perennial and non-native, being introduced to the UK as a garden plant back in 1806 when George III was still our monarch. By 1835, it had escaped from gardens into the wild.  I only found out what it was last year thanks to an article in the RHS magazine on scented winter flowers.

The flower spikes are about ten inches high and only really look good for a few days but get up close, or pick a few for a small vase, and their sweet scent is revealed.  I've read that they smell like vanilla or honey.  As a keen baker, I have to disagree - to me, they smell sweet, like baby talc.  If the colour soft pink had a smell, this would be it.

But that's it - its one and only season of interest. In these gardens, the flower spikes start to appear in late December and the flowers - small tubular clusters - show up in early January.  The leaves are soft, bright green and shaped like lily pads but even those will be blackened or mottled by a sharp frost. The plant spreads by underground rhizomatous roots and there's my problem.  It's quietly invasive and hard to get rid of except with some determination and a lot of digging.

It dominates one of the raised borders here and is earmarked to go. So far it's been left alone because it provides dense ground cover until I'm ready to use the space but I've noticed that it's spread along under the Hebe where it usefully grows in shade. I suspect it's providing cover for a host of over wintering bugs and bumbles so I'll relocate some when (or if) I dig it up.  It would make a good alternative to ivy in a lightly shaded garden, I think, but it grows to the detriment of other plants nearby.

I think I mentioned that it spreads easily …  

I have no idea why it's growing in the gardens here - I can't imagine anyone deliberately choosing to plant it and I'm fairly certain you can't buy it - but it does provide a rich source of early nectar for bumblebees.  Because bumbles are warm-blooded they can fly in cooler winter temperatures (unlike the honeybee) so an early source of food for them is vital - especially if you want your veg pollinated in due course. They can fly up to six miles from the nest site so it's in the gardener's best interest to ensure they stick around by providing a good source of nectar.  In her book 'The Natural Gardener', Val Bourne says that they have a preference for tubular flowers - foxgloves, aconitums and nepetas being their favourites.  It seems that Petasites might be more friend than foe.

PS. Don't think my search for winter scent stopped at home; next up, Daphne bholua and the winter walk at Wisley.

2015: A graceful New Year

~ Frosted Purple Sprouting broccoli in the Veg Patch 30th December 2014 ~

Having my face slapped about with two days of face-chilling frost was the absolute best finale to 2014.  That bitingly crisp freshness coupled with clear bright blue skies felt like the perfect wintry pause between one good year and the next.  Am I being optimistic?  Yes! Always. But there is definitely a sense of confidence in the air for 2015 - I guess a good year will do that. Other blogs are buzzing with gardening plans and hopes for the coming year - trips, garden visits, seeds to be sown. Here, too, I hope to build on 2014.  Every year of gardening brings fresh insights and knowledge; I've got winter veg growing again - kale, broccoli, cavalo nero, spinach. The microclimate induced by growing between two blocks of flats means that I still have parsley, mint (just), thyme, sage; my cape gooseberry has lots of green lanterned fruit which I hope will ripen early next year.  I know to watch out for rosemary beetle (my plants are looking very ragged) and to grow my tomatoes in a line, not a cluster. This year I'm determined to make space for cut flowers so I need to re-evaluate the space.  Last year there was a new flush of estate children who declared an interest in joining in and learning so space will have to be found for each child to have a little patch to call their own.  It's all possible but first I have to move some plants and draw up some plans and now is the perfect time to do it.

So, here we go! 2015 already.  Both in the past and this year, I've read other blogs choosing a symbolic word for the year. Previously I haven't been able to single out one particular word that might be meaningful to me but as I reflect on the past year I realise that it was a year made special by the people I encountered.  Some of those I met through social media, some have become familiar to me through this blog, some are from my local community, some from college and others are long standing friends.  All of those people, to my way of thinking, embody my word for 2015 and the touchstone which I'll strive to carry forward with me:

It's a lovely word with nuanced meaning; my favourites are to have poise, decency, respect, generosity, kindness, to enhance, to favour and to enrich.  All qualities which I feel I've been on the receiving end of, certainly through comments and meetings. So when I next find life getting a tad annoying, I hope to take note of this one word, pause (give myself a moment's grace) and respond in a gracious manner. I'm not one for any horoscope malarkey but I do have one or two of the Aries attributes and I swear one of my Irish ancestors must have kissed the Blarney Stone more than once!

The frost had gone by the morning of New Year's Day but I wanted to use one of my frosty veg patch photos to greet the New Year in.  I kept thinking that the photo reminded me of something and, look, there it is - a Union Jack, brassica style.  How very British!

So after a quiet and relaxing Christmas and New Year which suited me very well, I'm now looking forward to 2015 and wish everyone a productive and successful New Year! 

My first snowdrop (ever) is almost out!