Après la Deluge…

It is best to read the weather forecast before praying for rain.
~Mark Twain

I am, by nature, an optimist. Which means that I will plant seeds in August when the packet clearly says Sow May to July. Who knew that two days after sprinkling our seeds (and hopes) into the ground, there would be monsoon conditions over North London?

We'd wished for clement weather to coax our seeds into new life. Had we been given a choice, I imagine the order would have been for a gentle blanket of Irish rain, preferably in the morning, to balance the scorch of summer sunshine.

After tending to the Veg Patch in the early morning sun, some of our group headed off for a day out at the seaside. Within hours, an overcast sky had darkened to produce a heavy deluge(* dictionary moment below!) of rain of some 8 hours duration. Flowerbeds filled like ponds, unable to drain the water away fast enough, and, as the rain continued on (and on, and on), I pictured our little Veg Patch seeds floating away on the tide. We'd already been scuppered by a skulk of foxes enjoying the smell of fresh compost and now it was Mother Nature's turn.

And what of our friends struggling soggily back from Southend? Not a bit of it. They stepped, bone dry, out of the train station in a moment of light drizzle. "Rain? …What rain? We've had a smashing day and the first few drops we've seen was one station back down the line!"

Really, you couldn't make it up if you tried.

* I love the origins of language. So, for anyone, like me, who thinks about such things, the meaning of Deluge is literally 'washed away' from the Latin (diluere/diluvium) and thence to Old French (diluve) and to late Middle English. So now you know.

Up, Up and Away…

August 2009: The Final Showdown
Frank (1); Cotoneaster (0)

You know how you can sometimes ignore a problem and it will do the decent thing and go away? That was the tactic we employed with the last, very stubborn, cotoneaster root. It worked for a while as we crumbled compost bought from the local Recycling Centre and sowed seeds until we were all PollyAnna'd out.

But, one day, as we discussed the planting plan for our future 'orchard' (by the way, how many fruit trees do you need to be worthy of that label?), we knew we could put off the problem no longer. Happily, Geordie Frank, one of our resident pensioners (say it quietly) wandered past and picked up the challenge. Within moments he was back with his work boots on and shovel… er, pickaxe… er, saw in hand. My,my, the way he tackled that root. You had to see it, it was impressive. And all for a cup of tea and chat with the ladies (I think we can call ourselves that).

(And, by the way Frank, entre nous, you don't look a day over ... oops, no, sorry, promised I wouldn't.)

A Loveliness of Ladybirds …

Apparently we're experiencing an abundance of ladybirds this summer in the UK, emerging to feed greedily on the glut of aphids which our weather has encouraged (ironically, however, declining to feast on the aphids on my strawberries).

Small children, usually spotted (ho, ho) with one small red bug trailing over their hands, now have them by the potful. The press have seized on this summertime news with lurid pictures of swarms of ladybirds in biblical proportions (here and here - opens in new window) and, for those of a grammatical bent, flagged up the collective noun for this gathering which is a Loveliness of Ladybirds. (All together now… "aaaahhh".)

Which has set me thinking about collective nouns. I was unable to find any for garden produce - apart from the well-known 'hand of bananas' or 'rope of onions' - so I offer you these thoughts: how about

• a march of mint
• a blessing of beetroot
• a conundrum of carrots (you never quite know how they'll turn out)
• a marathon of beans
  
• a hearing (or audience?) of sweetcorn (think about it)
  
• a league of lettuces

Any more suggestions?

P.S. Children wanting to know more about ladybirds, including a colouring sheet, click here

Back(s) to the Future II …

July 2009: Getting to the root of the matter. 

Time Banker Emma pauses while watching Jon (York Rise Grower) dig.

With the neglected rose bushes transplanted to a new home with the Time Bank helpers, you'd perhaps expect a frenzy of preparation for future harvests? Sadly, not so. The Veg Patch was still harbouring a couple of renegade cotoneasters which had defeated all our onslaughts, with roots deep under the surrounding paving. They had to come out before we could continue and the scale of the task was demotivating us. What to do?

A quick phone call to Clare from Origins Time Bank and one Emma, pictured above, strolled onto the Veg Patch one Tuesday in July with her gardening experience and the determination to not let anyone leave until the job was done. Thanks, Emma. … Umm, no, really, thanks! 

At the end of the day, the ground had been dug over, wooden raised beds built, compost bought in and lots of growers went home with sunburn and aching limbs. (In fact one last cotoneaster root remained, more of which later …)

Back(s) to the Future

Feb 2009: Did I mention the Cotoneaster? Mmm, lovely, isn't it.

Before the blog began: Well, this is how it started for us. Yep, faced with the prospect of turning the above plot (top photo) into a lush 'kitchen garden', early enthusiasm expressed over seed catalogues soon had all the fizz of 3 day old lemonade.

Lest we be accused of wimping out, it needs to be said that we were starting our veg patch a tad late in the season (April) and there was a lot of ground to (un)cover.

April 2009: Going to the (Time) Bank to get the job done.

Enter Viki and his team of Time Bank gardeners, a lovely group of men from Old Church Court in North London, who pitched up and started cheerfully digging out the rose bushes and ancient shrubs, while we pulled a few weeds and made cups of tea - and in L's case, a magnificent, huge, fresh cream Victoria Sponge Cake was baked … which I regrettably forgot to photograph.

Incidentally, if you don't know about TimeBank, check out these websites here (TimeBank) and here (SPH) and you, too, could soon be basking in TimeBank goodwill.

August planting for salad crops

Just the other day, after a very satisfying morning in the veg patch, we were discussing what could usefully go into the ground for eating in a couple of months. As we've had to wrestle giant roots into submission before getting started, our little patch is devoid of summer harvest. (Although we do have a few aubergines, peppers and lavender in a greenhouse waiting to be transplanted now that the ground is ready-ish.) As it's practically still July, we decided to give salad-y stuff a go and have now lovingly sowed lettuce, rocket, radish, beetroot, spring onions, and parsley into the raised beds, with the help of one of the children. This was more an act of bravado than seasoned experience but I'm pleased to see that Sarah Raven, writing for the Guardian, advocates August as being the ideal time for sowing a late summer salad. Yum. In fact, I'm inspired to go out and sow spinach and coriander as well (which I was going to leave until the end of the month).