That sweet smell of winter

Let's face it, progress is slow in the veg garden even in the mildest of winters - those little plants know that they’re better off snuggled into a protective blanket of soil, slugs notwithstanding. But if there’s nothing much for me to see, at least there are lots of lovely smells at this time of year.

It wasn’t a day to be outside for long on Friday (or any day this past week) but, walking back from dropping off my recycling, I found myself drawn into the garden by a delicious smell wafting over from the stand of Viburnum x bodnantense 'Dawn'. And as I tugged a branch towards me to better appreciate its scent close up, I heard the angry buzzing of a disturbed bumble bee. A positive sign as bumbles are the first bees to wake up in spring and good to know that there's food for them.

Someone (not me) planted two of the shrubs a long time ago and their scruffiness irritates me hugely for most of the year. They haven’t been maintained by the contract gardeners so have grown in height and width to cast deep shade over the border until their leaves drop in late autumn.  This shrub should be maintained by thinning out the old wood at the base, thereby allowing the new shoots room to grow; I frequently harbour thoughts of heading out with my pruning saw - my type of guerrilla gardening.

But with the appearance of their dainty pink flowers in early winter, all is forgiven.  The perfume is delicious but strangely doesn’t work indoors (for me, anyway), much better to appreciate it wafting on the wind.

The next border along is a thicket. Our community gardening group (as was) were given this area for food growing but resisted clearing it straightaway; it was a jungle even then but we told ourselves that at least tenants overlooking the gardens had some greenery to look out onto until the food garden was less bare earth. Now I worry that by sorting it out I’ll be destroying a perfect habitat for this urban garden’s wildlife.

See what I mean? Thicket.

It’s now been taken over by Petasites, another (very invasive) winter flowering plant with a strong baby-talc perfume. Staring at it, I started to think about winter plants that brighten up the garden with their scent.

I wrote about Petasites in depth five years ago, in January 2015. At that time I had plans to conquer it, dig it up and relocate a few plants.  Needless to say, that's still on my to do list.  But there's an idea tickling my thoughts - how would it be if the Petasites were transplanted into the Viburnum border?  Good, eh? There might be a bit of sensory overload on the olfactory front, and I'd have to rescue my beautiful ferns first (a very lovely bronze Dryopteris erythrosora), but it’s a plan. When the weather is warmer though.

It's would be a massive challenge as the plant has spread the length of its 30ft long home border.  That whole area needs culling; it's a thicket of tangled dogwood, hebe, Elaeagnus, Choysia, ivy and honeysuckle ... which brings me to my next winter smelly.

This, I love. Like roses, I find it impossible to pass by without a not-so-surreptitious sniff of the scent. The flowers are edible with a sweet burst of nectar at the base; they’re not known as Honey suckle for nothing!  This is a bog standard honeysuckle which has flowered courtesy of a mild winter but there is a winter flowering honeysuckle - Lonicera purpusii-  that has highly scented white flowers from early winter onwards.  Duly noted for when this border is conquered.

And finally (thanks for bearing with me), I have to mention Daphne odora ‘Aureomarginata’. The clue is in the name, a most beautiful shrub with a not-to-be-ignored intense perfume.

I walk in olfactory heaven past a clutch of these most days, planted in a long roadside border outside council flats. I can’t help but marvel at this municipal border as it’s planted up with the most desirable of plants - the above mentioned Daphnes, a swathe of large pale green Hellebore foetida, Euphorbia rigida, grasses, Brachyglottis (aka Senecio or Daisy Bush) and Sarcococca, another excellent shrub for scent and wildlife.

Sweetly scented flowers and berries for birds - what’s not to love!

Both Daphne and Sarcococca are shrubs that are sadly lacking in the gardens here but I’ve Google searched for a supplier several times and my fingers are creeping closer to the ‘click to buy’ button, paid for with my jar of babysitting money, saved for exactly this purpose. Watch this space .... !

It's tulip time!

Hallelujah! Winter is almost over, she shouted.  Okay, that may be stretching it a bit but there are definite sightings of tulip buds rising above the leaves in the veg patch and mini tulips in flower in the car park garden.  This is most unusual, even if we are only days away from March, the meterological start of the spring season.  It all seems a bit too soon, to have tulips in February; I mean, the snowdrops are barely bowing out and daffodils have just hit their stride. So these tulips are most unexpected - but after a long wet winter, I'll take whatever signs of imminent spring I can get.

One of the tall tulips in the Fruit Tree border of the Veg Patch.
Hmmm, thought I’d dug all the yellow ones up ... 

A fact I discovered just recently was that short tulips flower earlier than their taller relatives. Please tell me I'm not the last to know! This I find eminently sensible (even if they do normally wait until late March/April to bloom). Wintry weather, and certainly the wild weather we've had this year, would ravage the taller tulips (the ones the foxes don't trample first!) but I was still surprised to see several of these red/yellow mini tulips ready to open at the weekend.  Especially as I planted only tall tulips in this bed last year and most of those were transferred to pots when I needed the space for my gooseberry bushes. Maybe, like me, they've just got shorter with age.

Springing up in the veg patch

There hasn't been a lot to crow about in the winter veg patch but with the sun shining this morning, I found myself muttering 'This is a lovely day' (despite a 'fresh breeze' as the Met Office like to call it).  A little bit of sunshine makes everything look more promising. Making my way towards home, I diverted my steps for a quick look at the veg garden; every day makes a difference especially after the two recent storms. Plants were noticeably doing their planty growing thing and, with a spring in my step, I resolved to spend an hour in the garden before lunch.

Somewhere between the veg patch and home (only a few minutes walk), I switched to thinking about doing a bit more work on the hedge in the car park garden. (I really must think up another name for that space, Car Park Garden doesn't quite do it justice.) The Euonymus hedge needs some very severe restorative pruning to encourage it to bush up from the base and I need to tidy up the space to see if there's room for a mini greenhouse.

What started as a sunny but breezy moment of pruning soon turned into a battle against a gale force wind. And then it rained. Time for lunch, I told myself, and packed my tools away. I had managed a couple of hours but, admitting defeat for the day, I headed back indoors and turned my thoughts back to the veg garden - surely spring can't be far off, if only the weather would make up its mind.  I'm wondering if I should sow some chilli seeds.

Despite the changeable weather, the UK winter has been kind to us namby-pamby Southerners. On my earlier walk round the veg patch I'd snapped a few photos:

I was surprised to see wild garlic already well under way ...  Wild garlic has such a reputation for spreading that some might think me foolhardy for deliberately growing it. Not to worry, so far it's been remarkably self-restrained and seems happy to occupy just a few feet of soil under the cherry tree. Possibly the lack of regular watering (no nearby hosepipe) makes things inhospitable for new seedlings.

And so to broad beans. A bit of an experiment this as it's the first time I've tried over wintering beans. I set them out next to support sticks last December; tying them in now that they've grown is on the to-do list, although not being secured to stakes might have saved them from being ripped in half during the strong winds of Storms Ciara and Dennis. What I did notice (with not a little excitement) was that flower buds are starting to form on the plants and not a aphid in sight. Hopefully I'm not jinxing things with that last observation.

Kale is one of my winter veg patch staples, a vegetable I add to stir fries, soups, smoothies and, when the mood takes me, an omelette. It keeps going even in the harshest winter and it looks pretty. Even if it's covered with an ugly trellis to keep foxes off.  The Cavolo Nero plant that has kept going for so long has started to form flower buds - these are still edible but this is the second time the plant has run to seed; it has served me well. It feels very fitting that new plants will be raised from last summer's saved seed.

Looking ahead, the weather forecast is looking predictably gloomy (possibility of hail tomorrow!). So any gardening will be in short bursts while I go back to planning my seed sowing calendar indoors.

So let me leave you with this thought - aren't spring flowers just awesome?

Self seeded and so pretty. 

Tulips that I thought I'd dug up last year. Can't remember how many years these have been in.

First forget-me-nots are starting to flower. Some blue, some pink. And in profusion.

Ever reliable cowslips. 
Now I'm thinking I should move some of these to the Car Park Garden

It's that winter/spring thing

So far this winter I’ve remained cozily optimistic about avoiding frost and freezing temperatures, given the relatively mild weather in North London.  Early yesterday morning though, following a beautifully clear night sky, I could just make out a layer of ice etched into the cars parked below from my second floor windows. It’s the first time temperatures have fallen below 45°F (8°C) and I felt the tug to be outside, looking to see if my nasturtium leaves had caved in to the cold. (They hadn’t.)

Before you ask, no I haven’t discovered a super hardy variety of nasturtium; these are left overs from last summer and usually don’t survive beyond November. I ripped out most of the sprawling trip-hazard plants at the end of autumn but a few fallen seeds had germinated so I left the baby plants for salad leaves until winter got them.  They carried on (rather heroically I thought) and, unrealistically, I was hoping that a mild winter would let these plants live to produce early summer flowers. I think my expectations might be misplaced. Although ....

Newly opened and appreciating this weekend's warm January sunshine

This past week the weather has been rather horrid and a sharp reminder that we’re still not at peak Winter in the UK - dark grey skies, constant drizzle, heavy rain, and buffeting cold winds. (Which makes this weekends sunshine all the more appreciated.)  It was the sort of weather that makes you want to curl up under a cosy blanket with your seed box and dreams rather than be outdoors but, undeterred, I have been checking in on the garden.  There’s not a lot happening in the veg patch, understandably, but what there is seems to be ticking over nicely, waiting for spring.

In autumn last year I sowed a dozen Aquadulce broad bean plants in modules. I wanted to see if overwintering (rather than spring sown) gives an earlier harvest; the small plants were transplanted into the garden in early December and now need tying in to their support stakes. My favourite beans are still Karmazyn (slightly sweeter with pink coats inside green pods) but they won’t be sown until March/April.

Onion sets planted in December have started to sprout, kale (pink veined Red Devil), chamomile and chervil are all looking very healthy, having been planted out as I cleared the veg patch in early winter.  The strawberry runners, not so much; I noticed yesterday that they were looking very sorry for themselves but perhaps they'll perk up with some better weather. 

January nights are punctuated by the mating cries of urban foxes; the flats here are next to a railway line, a lushly overgrown 'green corridor',  making it a perfect spot for fox burrows. Most nights several of them like to check out the home turf, looking for food and fun. I can see that foxes have been in both gardens; yep, the usual calling cards are much in evidence!  So all my precious veg has been protected under rescued wire baskets (often see thrown out on the streets).

Safe to say, the garden is not at its most glamorous but all is not lost.  After pinning my hopes of winter flowers on a solitary snowdrop for the past few weeks, I was thrilled to find the violets in bloom yesterday.  These are self seeded having managed to work their way a good 8 metres up the garden path. Recognising the leaf shape when the seedlings were tiny, I left the plants to develop but will move them, probably into the other garden which is, to its detriment, currently a violet-free zone.

But I can't leave without mentioning my Cavolo Nero plant. I love how nature is a constant cycle of surprises! In 2018 I let the original plant run to seed, mainly because the flowers provide late summer food for bees. By spring of last year, one of those seeds had grown into a tiny plant which I carefully  moved to the other end of the veg patch where it thrived to produce good leaves for eating all year. That plant was huge and healthy so I let that one run to seed as well. After harvesting the seeds, I cut the stalk down to about a metre high, leaving it as there were still a few leaves growing from the base. Those leaves have been providing me with food all winter and the plant is still growing. Now that's what I call excellent value.

My hero Nero

A good day at the library

This wonderful mosaic tiled floor at the entrance to the Lindley Library

A visit to a library is always a good thing.  When that library has shelves dedicated to all things gardening, it becomes a really good thing.  Yesterday I set out for my old stomping ground, Pimlico. I lived and worked there before I had my now adult son and always enjoy a wander down memory lane.  It was a wonderful place to live, just a short walk to the Tate and Hayward galleries, and the National Portrait gallery in Trafalgar Square; even Chelsea was just a quick hop by pedal power. My flat was 5 minutes walk from the Horticultural Halls but I hadn't discovered gardening ... yet. Yesterday’s mission was to return books to the RHS Lindley Library, equidistant between Pimlico and Victoria tubes but I prefer to avoid the hurly burly of Victoria's busy station and streets.

Just for starters ... 

I love gardening and I love books so when my twin passions collide, I’m in heaven. And this library is filled with joy for the gardening bibliophile. Shelves filled with gardening books of every topic, garden mags to read in comfy chairs, desks for quiet research and an archive of precious books, papers, artifacts, prints and manuscripts dating from the 15th century.  Add to that friendly helpful staff, a quiet atmosphere and regular small informative exhibitions - I find I don’t need much of an excuse to pop in when I’m in the area. (The RHS also has libraries which I've yet to visit at their Wisley and Harlow Carr gardens.)

Title page of John Gerard's 'The Herball', 1597 - predating Culpepper's herbal by 120 years
Metal engraving had replaced woodcut printing, used to beautiful effect here.

My first encounter with the library was the result of a talk offered at one of RHS London shows; those shows were always wonderful and sadly missed.  Shamefully, I can’t remember what that talk was about but can clearly recall the very beautiful old books brought out from the archives for the group to look at. I think the talk may have been to do with early plant use as one of the books was an original Gerard’s Herbal. (1597! That's over four hundred years old and no white gloves were required. Perhaps that was an oversight.) Incredibly, to my mind, the archive is accessible to all by prior appointment which seems very generous.  (Currently Tuesdays and Thursdays due to staffing levels.)

At the time of that talk I thought the library was exclusively for serious writers and researchers but one day, following signs to an exhibition (The Healing Garden, I think) I tentatively went inside and discovered over a warm welcome that the library was open to everyone (not just RHS members, although I am) and that I could join and take books home. That made my day I can tell you and has helped my book buying budget no end. I always check the online library catalogue now before buying a gardening book.

Making the most of a small plot? I could do with that today! 

I've been to several of the mini-exhibitions since - Dig for Victory last October was memorable with artefacts and photos illustrating the social history behind Britain's wartime food growing, supported by the government and the RHS. On show were maps and cloth bags used to send seeds over to prisoner camps, leaflets on success with veg, and photos of allotments (in Hyde Park!) and back gardens being turned over to veg growing. (I remember being told by one of the older residents on my estate that the gardens here were dug up for food growing but returned to shrubs soon after the war was over for practical reasons.)

 Stunningly beautiful up close. I'd be happy to give it wall space.
William Van Sommen, autochrome photo.
(All photos are protected with a glass frame so apologies for the quality
but if you look closely my reflection is at the lower left edge of the bowl)

My visit yesterday was intended to be a quick turnaround to return some books and head home empty handed. After a friendly chat with lovely staff at the welcome desk, it would have been rude to leave before having a look at the display of William Van Sommen’s autochrome photos, and from there it was just a quick step to the library shelves and magazine racks.  Gardens Illustrated, Kitchen Garden, Grow Your Own and the latest Permaculture editions (and more if I'd had time) awaited.

So, funnily enough I didn't leave empty handed as planned but came home with a small selection of books on urban growing, Beth Chatto’s drought resistant planting and wildflower gardening. Oops.  And I get to take them back in a month's time.

😄

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Colour in the Garden is on until 24th January at 80 Vincent Square. The library is open Monday to Friday, there are loos on the 4th floor, a lift and wonderful views over the Westminster School playing fields on the way down.  More about what the library offers here.

The two RHS London shows this year are in April, free for RHS members; I'll be there, will you?.

• 7th-8th, Spring Launch and Orchid Show
• 17th - 18th, Botanical art and photography show 

I didn't mean to be gone so long

Crikey, how time flies. My last post was two months ago and the overall number of blog posts last year would suggest that I was striving for quality over quantity. Hmm, not sure that worked.

2019 wasn't all bad in the veg garden

It's easy to blame a lack of time - in this case, for real.  I've done a 6 month planting design diploma, created a new garden from scratch, retiled the bathroom myself after an outrageously expensive quote and been on several very exciting garden related outings, more of which later.  But mainly I've been outdoors pottering around rather than inside writing. Even now I'm mulling over the prospect of a short walk around the gardens to take some photos on this very chilly day, perhaps also to take my fork and dig up a shrub or two. And maybe even get the last of my bulbs planted.

And then there's that thing ... where a blog post will pop into my head as I'm gardening, walking, cooking, at the garden centre - anywhere but near my computer; I get home, draft the first few lines and then run out of steam.  (I started this post just after christmas; I rest my case.)

I ponder how to make the post more readable, more informative, more entertaining - why would anyone read this? what do people want to read? do I have anything to say that a hundred (or more) other gardening blogs haven't already said? Having got top place in 2018 for the Garden Media Guild's blog of the year, I felt I needed to prove myself.  And yes, I suffer from Imposter Syndrome which puts the brakes on a lot of my life. I'm currently trying to figure out why. (It's a very long list.)

I've also had the most irritating time with the browsers I use.  Chrome lets me write my blog but not comment on other blogs, Safari lets me comment but only write one or two paragraphs. So I have to copy and paste from Chrome to Safari and vice versa. Is the internet conspiring against me? Or is it Blogger?  I've taken out a subscription to a wordpress site and just need to figure out how it all works; I still have to cross the hurdle of choosing a workable 'theme'.  Blogger was a dream in comparison.

What is certain is that you're not rid of me yet. I'm into the eleventh year of writing this blog - high time for a return to wittering on diary-style about all things connected with veg.  Expect a few catch up posts about my adventures in 2019 - the best tomatoes from my trial, disappointing veg I definitely won't be growing again in 2020, some tips from my day at Mr Fothergill's seeds and ideas from the Hampton Court show grow-your-own section. Tempting?  I hope so!

Blooming and wild - end of October in the garden

It's that time of year when I plan my week according to the weather forecast.  Dry for outdoor work (gardening, drying my washing), wet for indoor work.  Wednesday was forecast dry and as I wandered down to the veg patch gardens to hang my washing out on the communal drying lines, the sun felt really no-coat-needed warm. That was fairly early on in the day, within the hour a chill wind had picked up but by then I'd decided what needed to be done.

I gathered my secateurs, garden fork and waste bags and started clearing the veg patch. I'm bored with the perennials and self seeders that I put in the patch over the past ten years, and the borders under the fruit trees are looking very shabby.  Plus I have the car park garden to host a few plants for me.  It's time for a rethink all round.

In a pickle - Make the most of the best from the autumn edible garden

Ah, autumn! A time to clear and mulch beds, think about what to grow next year, sow seeds for micro leaves, plant bulbs and get creative in the kitchen. Busy, busy. Possibly even busier than spring as autumn feels more urgent, especially with harvests to deal with and winter creeping closer.

This year I've had some good harvests but what to do with the surplus?  When I thought I couldn't possibly eat another fresh courgette/tomato/bean/apple, it was time to get out the preserving books and kilner jars - waste not, want not as it's said.

I've harvested large bowls of tomatoes, achocha, beetroot, apples, quinces - but almost anything can be stored for winter use by pickling, drying, bottling, freezing or cooking.

What's the point, you may ask, with so much food available from the shops or farmer's markets? The point is that I (or you) have grown it myself. I know the soil the food's been grown in, I know that it's organic and no pesticides have been used, I know that I've harvested at the perfect time for flavours to be fully and naturally developed. And I'm also storing memories and hope. So this post is about preserving the best of what I've grown this year.

What to do with quince? How about spiced?

From the moment I discovered the edible fruits of flowering quince (Chaenomeles japonica), I desperately wanted to try the perfumed real thing - the fruits of the quince tree Cydonia oblonga - without any idea of what to do with them. As ever, I've found out by doing it.

Seasonal recipe - Swedish Pickled Beetroot

~ the first beetroot I grew ~ 

So there I was, glancing through the titles on the bookshelves of the new family I was babysitting for when I spotted an intriguing title. 'Swedish Bakes'.  Who doesn't love a cinnamon bun? I prised it off the shelf and settled down for a good read.

There were many very, very tempting recipes to be found but the one that really spoke to me (not literally, that would be too weird) was not a bake but a pickle.  For beetroot.

Goji Goji Go!

My plant of the week :) and why you should grow them ...

This is another of my £2 supermarket 'twigs' - the Goji Berry, occasionally known as Wolfberry or Duke of Argyll's tea.  Residing in a middle sized pot and parked just inside the shade edge of the lime trees in the Car Park garden, it has (over several years) grown to be a single lengthy arching stem with two straggly branches, a few leaves and no fruit.  Pretty pointless, I'm sure you'd agree.

Last autumn however, it wheedled its way back - not so much into my affections as into whatever piques my interest.  It bore fruit.  Or rather, a fruit.  One tiny glowing red berry shining through the autumn gloom.  So, naturally, I was expecting greater things from the plant this year.

Catching up with myself

I feel an explanation is warranted.

This year, with the Blog of the Year winner’s trophy sitting on a nearby shelf at home, I’ve been shamefully neglectful of putting time aside to write.  Sometimes, the muse just disappears or there’s little to tell; but this time I actually have a few good reasons for my absence here.

15 Practical and beautiful ideas from The Skip Garden

While writing about the imminent closure of The Skip Garden in Kings Cross, I felt a twang of nostalgia looking back through the seven years of photos that I'd taken during my visits.  It's a garden that I'm familiar with, and it hasn't changed much over the past four years, but I still get a buzz of excitement as I head towards the gates.

There's always something new to see, small or large - whether it's bird boxes made during a workshop, different crops in the skips, fresh ceramics, or a parquet floor patio made from scaffolding boards. Totally inspiring, unexpectedly beautiful.

This year the chicken house/coop had gone, in its place stood an intriguing incomplete new structure and newly built empty wooden planters waiting to be filled. I assume the planters were destined for a local business as the gardeners are hands on in the local community. There were also several planters of herbs by the kitchen patio - I love a herb patch and looked to see what was thriving in the sunshine. And immediately added it to my list of practical and beautiful ideas from The Skip Garden that I'm sharing below.

Return to The Skip Garden

I, We and The Planet.

Those five powerful words underpin the work of Global Generation, the charity bringing youth, community and enterprise together in London. Why am I writing about this? Well, with everything that's happening in the world today, those words seem particularly relevant - and I visited their flagship Skip Garden in Kings Cross last week.

I make an annual pilgrimage to the Skip Garden - it's a short walk from where I have my car MOT done and the kitchen café serves a fine coffee and freshly-made food. But it's all about to change, again.

How to use fresh calendula to make a soothing oil

Let me say right now that I've only just made this for the first time because it sounded so lovely. Calendula (pot marigold) has so many uses; not only is it a cheerful, pretty flower with edible petals, it's also a good companion plant in the garden deterring hornworm (the caterpillar that may eat/destroy tomato plants) and it's known to be beneficial for skin complaints.  Combine it with the moisturising and antioxidant qualities of olive oil (or sweet almond oil) and you have an effective natural remedy for cuts, grazes, sunburn or for soothing dry skin.

Ranunculus: A buttercup by any name

I'm a real sucker for those bags of bulbs that drop into the shops in autumn. When there's daffodils, tulips, grape hyacinths and anemones to look forward to in spring, the winter months almost dwindle away.  It's the promise of all that colour after the monochrome of winter.

Beginner's guide to: potting on tomato seedlings

I was deliberately late in sowing tomato seeds this year (hellooo urban flat, shady interiors, minimal windowsill space). A good decision as it turns out because all seeds germinated leaving me with 63 tomato seedlings to find room for. (Now 58 as I culled a few.)

So I had 5 or 6 seedlings in each small 9cm pot that needed to be potted on into individual pots. Doing this gives each plant more root room to grow and should be done when the seedling has its first true leaves. (Plants that aren't potted on quickly enough will adapt to the smaller environment and never reach their full potential.)

I love the smell of elderflowers in the morning

... particularly when that smell indicates elderflower cordial being made for summer!

It's easy to lose track of how quickly the seasons advance at this time of year.  May has been typically unsettled weather-wise so I was delighted to see elderflowers starting to open as I walked home a fortnight ago.  Luckily, I walked that route again last Thursday and saw that there are now enough blooms to make elderflower cordial.

I've written about making elderflower cordial before - and how to correctly identify the right tree to pick from - so this post is by way of a reminder for anyone who wants to make delicious cordial before the blooms fade ... unless you have your heart set on elderberries for wine!

It was a stroke of luck seeing those elderflowers as I usually walk far and wide over Hampstead Heath in search of them.  My favoured patch was felled during repairs to the Heath ponds a couple of years ago and then last year I recall being concerned about the amount of sugar needed for the recipe so didn't make any.

It was a decision I came to regret during the extreme heat of the summer - a glass of iced water sweetened with a slug of citrus infused cordial hits the spot nicely on a hot day. So this weekend I bought sugar, dug out my recipe and went out this morning with my trusty secateurs to collect the bounty.

I've included my recipe below as I think it's an easy one and got very confused when I first tried to make elderflower cordial. Mine is an adaptation of several that I've used and tweaked year on year. (I now never use lime.) But first, a few tips.

Tip one:  Most recipes will include citric acid as a preservative - I don't bother.  As I found it hard to get hold of at first, I now keep one bottle of cordial in the fridge and freeze the rest in small plastic bottles saved from the smoothies I buy when out. I think that the addition of citric acid may alter the flavour and the cordial might not taste as nice.

Tip Two: Look carefully for aphids before you pick the flowers.  I found some stems covered in the sort of black aphids usually found on broad beans and left those blooms well alone.  Even so, when I got home, I made sure to gently shake the blooms over the sink to dislodge any other critters.  (A few black aphids, greenfly and a couple of small spiders, thanks.)  Having done that, I then held the blooms over a white tea towel for a second look; it was needed.

Tip Three:  There may be some tempting plate sized blooms below knee level just begging to be picked. Don't.  Wherever you live, there will be creatures that wee. In my case, dogs and foxes.  (I hope that's all but let's not go there.)  My advice is to pick the blooms that you have to stretch up high for, just to be on the safe side.

My simple but trusted recipe for Elderflower Cordial

3 unwaxed lemons
1 or 2 oranges
1 kg (2.2 lbs) granulated sugar
15-20 medium to large elderflower heads
1.5 litres tap water (50 US fluid ounces)

First stage:

1. In a large pot on the stove, make a sugar syrup by slowly dissolving the sugar in the water over a gently heat.  Stir occasionally and once dissolved (no more sugar grains to be seen), bring the syrup to the boil for about 5 minutes.
2. While that's doing, peel or finely grate the oranges and lemons. The white pith is bitter so try to leave that on the fruit.  (I have a julienne peeler which does the job perfectly. Link here to show what it is, I'm not an Amazon affiliate.) 
3. Cut the big stems off the cleaned/shaken elderflowers and put the flowers in a large pot or saucepan with the citrus peel.
4. Pour the hot syrup over when it's ready.  Put a lid on the pan and leave to infuse for 24 - 36 hours.

Next day/stage:

1. Sterilise bottles or jars ready to decant the mixture into. Giving plastic bottles a good hot wash will suffice if they're going into the freezer. Glass bottles can be washed and then dried on a low temperature in the oven for 10 minutes.  As a time saver before now, I've washed and then microwaved glass jars to sterilise (but not the metal lids - please!)  Lids should be boiled in a pan of water for a few minutes.
2. Sieve the infused cordial through a muslin cloth or tea towel, placed in a sieve over a bowl or large jug. I now use a jelly bag held securely in it's frame, so much easier! (Here, for info.)
3. Pour the cordial into the bottles, and store as appropriate.  

... Or drink straightaway!

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It's all about the tiny tomatoes this year

One of the great joys of having a balcony - even a tiny one - is having just enough space for a few planters and pots for salad leaves, herbs and now ... tomatoes. (And maybe just a few flowers, especially if they're edible!)

Summer 2018 - Balcony bush tomato

Last summer, as usual, I used the balcony to sow, grow and pot on my tomato plants into 10 litre pots (15 litres might have been better) with the intention of moving them down to the veg patch after hardening off.  As they grew, and I appreciated the ease of watering them in last summer's heatwave, I could see how well they responded to the warmth and attention they got by being close to hand.  There was no problem with weekly feeding (#feedonfriday) as I had everything I needed nearby.  And, once they started fruiting, I loved that I could pop outside and pick a few cherry tomatoes to add to a salad - or to eat as a quick snack - without interrupting my work for long.

Even in those 10 litre pots I had a selection of tomatoes to pick from all summer long.  One bush cherry tomato plant gave up its last fruit in mid November, although that was probably a fluke given the hot summer and extended warm autumn we had here in the UK.

So now I'm hooked. There will be balcony tomatoes again this year - some small, some tall - but they're all suitable for growing in pots, containers or 'a windowsill garden' which I think sounds rather charming. I'll fit as many as I can on the balcony and, if they all germinate, pop a few next to the veg patch and hopefully have some to give away.

Sowing and growing with peat free Dalefoot compost

I've only just sown the seeds, putting up to 6 seeds of each variety in a 9cm pot filled with Dalefoot Wool Compost for Seeds. When they've got their first set of true leaves, the tomato babies can be pricked out into individual 9cm pots of Dalefoot Wool Compost for Veg and Salads.  Once the roots fill those pots, I'll pot them on into a size bigger pot and then into the final plant pot when first flowers appear.

I'm really quite excited to reach that final planting out stage as I've been gifted a bag of Dalefoot's new Wool Compost for Tomatoes. The nutrient rich compost has been formulated so that there is 'No Need to Feed' (awesome) through the entire season, plus with 50% less watering thanks to the wool content, there are time and ecological savings there too. Hot summer or not, using less water is a positive step for the planet's dwindling resources.

I've been impressed with Dalefoot products in the past so I'm confident that this latest addition to the Dalefoot canon will deliver on its promises. They're now fully accredited by the Soil Association for their organic peat free composts; not only that but the company are actively involved in work to restore peat bogs. What I hadn't fully understood was the extent to which removing peat from the land contributes to climate change and, by leaving peat in place, water quality is maintained and natural flood prevention prevails. Sounds to me like a compelling reason to use peat free compost. But I digress ...

My tiny tomato choices for 2019

There's plenty of time (until the end of May) to sow tomatoes, bearing in mind that freshly picked will always taste better than shop bought, plus you get that lovely smell from the (slightly poisonous) leaves.  (No? Just me, then.)

These are the plants that I'm growing.

• Cherry Falls, Mr Fothergill's - 'perfect for outside baskets and tubs'
• Balconi Red,  Thompson & Morgan - 'plant height 12", very sweet, for indoor and outdoor cropping'
• Minibel from Johnsons - 'very compact, outdoor plants ideal for patio pots' 
• Lizzano F1, Marshalls - 'Prolific cropping hanging basket variety' - perfectly shaped to fill and spill.
• Rainbow Blend, T&M, as above - 'early ripening, good crop throughout the summer'. But here's an anomaly I didn't spot before: the pack says plant height 8" but the website tells me the plant grows to 200cm or 78.7 inches. Curious. Also, 5 seeds for £3.69? I must have had my head in the clouds on that day but at 74p a seed, they'd better all germinate!
• Red Currant, Dobies Rob Smith Heritage Veg range - 'very disease resistant tiny tomatoes. Good tolerance to cooler temperatures'. Hardly changed since found growing wild on a Peruvian beach in 1707 but, oh dear, another cordon that I missed. Will grow to 1.5 or 2 metres. But still okay in a pot. That's alright then.

And these, all from Marshalls, in a press pack from the Garden Press Event:

• Patio Plum - a baby plum with 'bite' and 'sharp acidic flesh that gives a real kick'
• Summerlast F1 - one for the patio or window-garden, late blight resistance. Harvest by the punnet!
• Arielle F1 - 'Grow your own sun dried tomatoes'. Fruits will dry on the vine if not harvested, and start to look like raisins.  Or sun-dried tomatoes. Also a cordon, grows to 4ft.

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For clarity: Apart from the Thompson & Morgan seeds which I bought when drifting through the shop at Kew Gardens, all the other packets were given to me to trial after chatting to the companies at the Garden Press Event.
I'm not affiliated to any of the companies so when I review the plants at the end of the year, my opinions will be entirely impartial.

A Sunday stroll around the Veg Patch

A quick blog post from me this chilly but sunny Sunday morning as I have strawberries to plant and a herb garden to sort out.

Huge sage in a pot at the southern end of the veg patch this morning

We've certainly had some weather this week - warm sunshine, chill winds, blue skies, grey skies, rain and even hail, all in the last few days. There may have been thunder at one point. I keep humming that Disney song about April Showers and hoping for another warm summer like last year.

I woke early to a chill, blue-ish sky sort of day and, given recent unpredictable weather, thought I'd start with a stroll around the veg patch with my camera. A lot can happen in a week and I've not spent much time there as I've been planting up the new layout of the other garden I look after, the Car Park Garden, a space that I can actually look out onto.

So what's happened while my eyes were averted? The veg patch is looking lovely having positively burst into blossom. Chive and wild garlic buds are shooting up, peony stems are now about 12 inches high, sweet cicely herb is in flower, and lovage and comfrey are growing with a vengeance. I say vengeance because both really need to be kept in check. 

There was a lot of colour from spring flowers (although the tulips have mostly come up blind this year and the daffs are pretty much finished), a few bees and ladybirds, and a surprise in the form of my first asparagus spears popping their heads up.  It won't be long before I'm enjoying fresh purple spears with a poached egg for breakfast - yum! It seems early for asparagus but it's only a week ahead of last year, when we'd already had a couple of weeks of very warm weather to tempt the spears into action.

Purple broccoli has now finished. I was buzzed by several bees as I dug them up - they'd been enjoying the flowers but I need to clear the space for this year's crops. And I've left a kale plant to flower for them. I'll collect the kale seeds to grow some micro greens later on.

As expected, the Morello cherry trees are now smothered in white blossom, as are the pear and quince trees. Some calm weather to encourage pollinators to linger would be good but with a ground level nectar bar from forget me nots, honeywort, honesty, achillea and erysimum flowers to feed on, would they notice the clouds of blossom above?

I spotted the Honesty (Lunaria annua) seedlings last summer and gave them room to grow.  Lunaria was introduced to the garden a few years ago because I love the papery seed pods at the end of the year and bees love the flowers. And as they're a biennial, the plants flower much earlier than annuals - one way to have a succession of flowers in the garden!

A little bit of Honesty ... 

I'm very behind with seed sowing but now that warmer weather is promised (at least for the next couple of weeks), I'll be opening up the seed box this week and possibly also planting out my overwintered sweet peas.  It's supposed to be 19°C/69°F by next weekend - I don't want to tempt fate but I think I'll leave my sunhat within easy reach.

Gardening is one way to a brain-healthy lifestyle - who knew?

I'm currently reading a book called '100 days to a Younger Brain'. So what's that got to do with growing veg, you may ask?  On many levels, gardening is good for you but I hadn't realised that this pastime was helping to keep my brain in tip top shape.

Forget-me-Nots ... an appropriate flower for this post?

After skimming through the salient chapters in the book,  (I will go back and read it properly but first wanted to get straight to the nitty gritty), it seems that if we want to slow or reverse cognitive decline in our dotage, we need to adopt a brain-healthy lifestyle with regular exercise, optimal amounts of sleep and stress, social engagement, mental stimulation, and a moderately healthy diet. I simplify, of course, but it reminds me of how my lifestyle has changed through gardening and engaging with the gardening community. I've learnt so much and have a better diet and more positive outlook as a result.

It's not the first time the wisdom of this sort of healthy lifestyle has been touted around but I hadn't realised to what extent this, or lack of it, affects our brains as we age.  A classic case of not seeing the obvious until it's pointed out - but I do love some solid advice wrapped up in a bit of neuro-scientific nerdery.

Having lost both parents to age-related illness and dementia, I'm increasingly aware of the moments when instant recall fails me, such as having a plant's botanical name on the tip of my tongue or remembering a person's face but not their name. (Awkward.) It's beyond frustrating and sometimes just a tad worrying.  Reading this book has also made me question the extent of my parents' diagnosis and whether a few changes might have made a small difference to their last years. It's also given me a boot up the bum to improve a couple of areas in my own lifestyle - move more, walk more, drink more. (As tempting as that sounds, I mean water not gin.)

The author, a research psychologist, offers practical advice to slow, halt or reverse signs of deteriorating brain health and how to build resilience against disease through healthy lifestyle choices. Scarily, our brains have already started to atrophy at age 30 (who knew?) but that decline accelerates once we reach 60 by which time we've potentially lost up to a third of our brains anyway.  Crikey. The good news is that even if our brains have shrunk to the size of a small coconut, physical exercise and stimulating environments will help to increase the brain's abilities to learn, remember and function, thereby potentially counteracting diseases such as dementia.

And that's where gardening comes into play - for me, at least.

Being outside gives me social contact with my neighbours; lugging compost and plant pots strengthens my bones; weeding, sowing and hoeing keeps me supple; proximity to nature and the seasons promotes mindfulness and calm. Even writing this blog is keeping my brain active!

So far, so reassuring. Now I just have to work on taking regular breaks from screen time (a quick walk round the garden or run up and down the three flights of stairs to my front door?) and to drink more water.  Sometimes I literally forget to drink. This week though I've had a jug of water on my desk and manage a litre a day plus tea and coffee! As a result I'm feeling less tired in the evenings and sleeping soundly. Result.

The best though is that during regular breaks, I wander onto the balcony to think about the garden, or stroll down to the veg patch to see what's occurring - often coming back with some herbs or veg for lunch. Communing with nature, exercise and a healthy lunch? Three more boxes ticked!

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I learnt of this book through a blog I subscribe to, The Age Well Project and then, intrigued, I bought it.  This is the link to the relevant post, 'Can laughter help you live longer?'

March in the veg patch garden

Regular as clockwork - blossom on the plum tree. 

Tonight the clocks go forward in the UK, heralding the start of British Summer Time. Tomorrow I'll wake as usual at 7am and change the hands on all the clocks to 8am and feel that the day has stolen a march on me.  It's all very unsettling but, despite my curmudgeonly attitude, at least I'll feel one step closer to summer!

The first quince blossom this year

Now that April is only a day or two away, the garden is really coming alive.  Mostly with flowers, to be fair, but when those flowers are sparkling on the pear and plum trees, you know you can start to get excited. There's even one small blossom bud on the quince tree planted at the northern end of the veg patch; the other quince (a patio variety in a pot) has never flowered and I'll be pleasantly surprised if I see any blooms this year.  I'm not sure why it's never flowered but no flowers means no fruit.  More feeding is needed I guess.

And so to rhubarb. Choosing the best cultivar is key; I've already indulged in some delicious stewed rhubarb a few weeks ago thanks to a friend who grows a large patch of Timperley Early and, serendipitously for me, doesn't like rhubarb!  Regular readers may remember that I got rid of my Glaskins Perpetual clump last year. It was too big and too green - but fantastic if you want stems for most of the year.  I like a nice red stem (a must for fruit fools or stewed fruit) so pinned my hopes on a new Siruparber plant from Lubera in Switzerland as well as the two Red Champagne plants struggling to survive under the apple trees.

Red Champagne rhubarb - and a matching tulip

In the past few weeks I'd convinced myself that the Siruparber was a goner as there was nothing to indicate where it had been last year, but this week I've spotted a couple of tiny leaves poking up and quickly put a wire basket over the top for protection against fox cubs.  The Champagne plants have produced a towering flower stem in the past, (not a good thing for rhubarb), clearly demonstrating that they are Not Happy.  And this is where you learn by doing - I'd read that rhubarb could be grown in light shade ... or apparently not in this case. I have two Champagne crowns so one will be carefully dug up and moved into the light - or as much as it can get with a four storey block of flats in close proximity on either side of the veg patch. (The patch gets around 6 hours of sun on a good day, which is fine for most veg and annuals.)

Cerinthe / Honeywort
Lamprocapnos / Bleeding Heart
Borage / Starflower

I do think colour is so lush in spring - I have primulas, cowslips, daffodils, forget-me-nots, tulips and muscari (grape hyacinths) to keep bees happy. I've only seen a couple so far but they'll buzz over once they know the nectar bar is open. This year self-seeded Cerinthe (honeywort) and Borage are blooming under the fruit trees - perfectly placed for pollinators - and one or two calendula plants have over-wintered. I don't even mind that the purple sprouting broccoli has finished and started to flower.  It's possibly the prettiest time in the veg patch and all part of the circle of life.

Last year's tulips return. Did I put those colours together?