The Empire Strikes Back...?

Among this year's Christmas presents was a gift from my step-daughter that perhaps gives an interesting insight into how wicked she perceives her step-mother to be... 

Knowing me to be something of a Luddite and thus not in possession of an iPhone or similarly sophisticated means of managing my life (and accessing all of human knowledge in an instant), she's bought me a very nice quality diary and personal organiser.

I must confess I am in need of encouragement to manage my business on a somewhat more professional basis.  I haven't ever been in the habit of carrying a diary with me, mainly because I tend to live out of my pockets and if I do carry a bag, it's my small camera bag - chock-full of photographic gear - rather than a 'proper' hand or shoulder bag as a rule.  So if anyone asks about gardening work on a face-to-face basis I inevitably end up writing the details on whatever odd scrap of paper I can find in my pocket or purse (which could be anything from a 'Love Music Hate Racism' leaflet to the back of a Sainsbury's receipt), which might be a laudible, sustainable way of reusing resources, but does look a bit amateurish.

I'm not entirely persuaded that my new Darth Vader 'Don't Underestimate the Force' diary will create quite the wholesome image of 'Sarah's Plants and Gardening Service' that I had in mind when I selected the cheery clean green design with strawberry plant logo for my business card.  On the other hand, I have seen a few gardens where access to a lightsabre might have made clearing the brambles and scrub a quicker and less scratchy process, and frankly nothing short of the power of Death Star itself is going to clear Ground Elder if you have the misfortune to have that in your garden!

I am, however, convinced there will be serious diary envy amongst colleagues at the Citizens' Advice Bureau where I am due to provide some non-horticultural training in the near future, even if we see ourselves aligned with the Rebel Alliance rather than the evil Senator Palpatine - or as he's better known in this quadrant of the galaxy, Ian Duncan-Smith. 

Happy New Year, and may the Force be with you!

And a Merry Christmas to both of my readers...

Flooded footpath beside the Itchen Navigation

There's a break in the clouds at the moment, allowing a shaft of sunlight to fall across my keyboard, but the weather forecast suggests that this will be a short-lived phenomenon and the rain will start to fall again very soon.
We've just returned from a pre-Christmas visit to friends and family in Hampshire and West Sussex, which had been slightly less water-logged than North Staffordshire until the night we arrived, when prolonged and heavy rain onto already saturated ground caused widespread flooding and even a few evacuations where flood defences threatened to collapse. 

We escaped largely unscathed, except that a planned walk with friends along the Itchen Navigation north of Southampton came to a premature and soggy conclusion in both directions when firstly, we found the water meadows to the east of Southampton Airport completely inundated, and then the path under water at Allbrook.

Soggy jogger

However, since that was at the very moment that the Mayan Apocalypse was supposed to be in full force, arguably we got off quite lightly under the circumstances!

And it appears to be staying damp for the rest of the week, though at least this suggests that the doom-laden predictions of the Daily Express a few weeks ago that we would by now all be shivering under blankets of snow and temperatures of minus twenty are a pile of pants.  Like almost everything else that scurrilous right-wing rag prints, I'm forced to add.

Anyway, if you've enjoyed reading this blog during the year, thank you for your interest and feedback, and watch out for more bad puns, sarcasm and socialism in 2013.  If not sooner, as it doesn't look like great weather for walking, boating or anything else to tempt me too far from the keyboard.

Wishing you all a very Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!

Ethics Girl

What I do when I'm not gardening...

Some readers will by now be wondering whether I write posts simply to inflict excruciating puns on an unsuspecting world, rather than to impart gardening knowledge, promote my horticultural and craft work or expound the odd bit of left-wing philosophy.

You've rumbled me, guys!

Not true, actually - the dodgy puns are simply there to grab attention in the same manner as a good tabloid headline, my favourite of recent years being the immortal "Sign on, you Crazy Diamond!" when the bonus-grabbing boss of RBS had to step down.  Which brings me seamlessly to today's dilemma on the subject of business ethics; should I still be blogging with Google in the light of their tax-evading shenanigans?  After all, I don't drink coffee from Starbucks (actually, I don't drink coffee...), I've done no online shopping via Amazon (ever - but I'm a Luddite, of course), I seek out the Fair Trade mark on foodstuffs almost as diligently as I sniff out special offers and try and lead a good, green, sustainable life (ie. I'm mean with fuel).

So don't be too surprised if at some point in the New Year, this gardening blog reappears in a new format with a new company.  Wordpress seems to be the provider of choice for quite a few right-on projects, though whether I can import my old posts or not isn't clear from what I've read so far. 

I hope so, as it would rather defeat the object of teaching Google how not to be evil if I have to set up a permanent link back to them!

Working in a Winter Wonderland

Our frosty front garden

After my previous post's plant-free rant about the Government's shameful attitude to benefit claimants, it's back to matters horticultural this week despite several degrees of frost and freezing fog in this part of the world.

Hardly ideal conditions in which to wield the trowel or secateurs, you might think, but in fact I have enjoyed two days in succession tidying up gardens to help them look their best in winter and seen some particularly beautiful sights in the process.

Frost-covered foliage

It's strange how on a frosty, foggy day the hoarfrost seems to grow as the day wears on.  The plainest shrub suddenly acquires a delicate white edging to all of its leaves; the dry brown stalks of a summer perennial glisten silver in a moment of pale sunlight.  Nothing shows off the vivid red stems of a Cornus quite as impressively as a backdrop of sparkling frost-dusted evergreen foliage.  And everywhere is so wonderfully still and quiet, apart from the sound of the cold ground creaking and crackling under your feet.

Bright berries of Cotoneaster

To enjoy these delights safely and comfortably, I'd recommend at least two layers of socks (woolly tights with socks gives an extra layer on the legs) inside a sturdy pair of boots and definitely gloves, also more than one pair but for wearing alternately rather than together.  When one pair become wet and freezing cold, they can sit on a hot radiator and thaw out while pair number two take over; swap them as required.

Luckily my client yesterday had a blisteringly hot radiator perfect for a very quick turnaround of defrosted gloves and also thawed me out nicely at lunchtime with a delicious bowl of leek and potato soup, garnished with smoked salmon.  I am tempted to make this a standard condition for anyone seeking to engage me as a gardener, but frankly I cannot afford to be quite so fussy!

Behind the Curtains

A bleak outlook

David Cameron, George Osborne and the unspeakably self-righteous IDS have latched on to a soundbite they trot out at every opportunity to justify their hatchet job on the Social Security system.  It’s that one about the hard-working man or woman setting off for their job in the morning and gazing resentfully at the drawn curtains of their unemployed neighbours.

Workshy scrounger! Boo, hiss! 

Before we all rush in and beat the lazy blighters around the head with our rolled up copies of the Daily Mail (or its baby brother, The Sentinel, in this part of the world), let’s look behind the curtains at the people curled up in bed and listen in on their thoughts.

“This time last year I was on site by now, but was made redundant when our firm ran out of work.”

“Buy food, or try and pay off the ‘Wonga’ loan?”

“I miss having a laugh with my mates at work.”

“If we stay in bed for another couple of hours, it’ll save putting the heating on.  We can’t cope with another bill like the last one.”

“Who’s going to take me on - at my age and after a heart attack – with so many younger, fitter people out of work?”

 “I hope the agency have something for him today; me and the kids can’t cope with these angry moods much longer.”

“That smug so-and-so over the road won’t be so high and mighty when his boss works out he can replace him with a ‘trainee’ off the Work Programme who’ll do his job for nothing!”

Oh yes, there’s so much to be jealous of, isn’t there?  Far more to hate about the unemployed than, say, the commodities dealer who can spread famine across half a continent with a couple of clicks of a mouse or the investment banker moving virtual funds around in an electronic world whose actions close a real factory in Saigon, Shanghai or Sheffield.  And let’s hear it for the lady living in a mansion on the profits creamed off from a company that farms out unemployed people to fake training schemes giving highly profitable companies free labour, so taking ‘real’ jobs out of the economy, and the smug director of a ‘Pay Day Loans’ company rubbing his hands at the news of the poor getting even poorer and more desperate.  They’re ‘wealth creators’ and worthy of tax cuts, aren’t they George?

And they certainly don’t want you making hostile judgements about the smarmy politician who not only has never had to try and manage on Jobseekers’ Allowance himself, but doesn’t know anyone who ever has either.  If they and their tabloid editor chums keep up the rhetoric about the ‘workshy’, they hope you’ll forget that the ‘working age benefits’ they’re cutting are also paid to disabled people even Atos accepts are unable to work, and that Tax Credits and Housing Benefit help to support to low paid workers too.

Making all these people poorer won’t force a single person back to work who doesn’t fancy going, because the genuinely dodgy few will find the odd bit of cash-in-hand or low-level crime to keep them ticking over whatever happens to their benefits, and cuts at the DWP mean staff have less than half as much time as they used to scrutinise their availability for work or to offer them proper employment advice on ‘signing on’ day.  And anyway, where are all those jobs?  How many of the ‘new’ private sector vacancies were simply the product of the creeping privatisation of our Public Services.

Let’s get the truth about ‘fairness’ out there and nail these lies. 

It’s time to bring down the curtain on this vicious Coalition government.

A Midwinter Day's Dream

Fairy reclining on a floating log

I know, fellow pedants; technically, it's still autumn, but it's too good a title not to use when you're writing about a walk round the lake at the glorious Trentham Gardens on a crisp afternoon looking out for the rather pretty fairy sculptures tucked in amongst the trees.

Posing fairy at the weir

Trentham Gardens is fabulous at any time of year and I'm daft not to visit much more frequently, especially since a lot of the year my RHS membership gets me in free of charge.  Jon is a 'concession' as a pensioner, which means we can both get in for less than a fiver, although he was suitably flattered when the guy on the till asked if it was 'two adults' today! 

Stronger than she looks, apparently!

The wind had a sharp edge walking along the open side of the lake, but we were sheltered under the trees for our return to the Italian Gardens end of the lake.  Out of the sun, there was still ice on many puddles, and no shortage of puddles either after the heavy rain earlier in the week.  The Trent was flowing briskly and debris along the banks suggested it had been very high indeed recently.

It was tempting to get a hot chocolate in the cafe, but we were still full after a tasty lunch at PieMinister and had plans to do some Christmas shopping before it got too dark and cold, so didn't divert far into the formal gardens.  These look absolutely stunning if there's a hoarfrost because the gardening team wisely resist the temptation to scythe off all the dead topgrowth of the summer perennials, so if it's a chilly winter, I'm sure we'll be back.

For more photos of Trentham Gardens through the seasons, there are more Flickr images at
http://www.flickr.com/photos/30634865@N03/sets/72157624267204186/

Dig this?

Covering our plots with Compost

One of the interesting challenges of the RHS Level 2 Practical is, in theory at least, carrying out a range of cultivation tasks on a plot of ground 4m x 3m allocated to each of us.  Blessed with a bright autumn, last year's group were allegedly well into double-digging and even planting before now, but we've had no such luck.



Harry Delany inspects the massed wheelbarrows of his Womens' Land Army

  Apart from one dry morning in mid October when we were introduced to our mini-allotments and instructed by tutor Harry Delany to wheel over four barrows of compost each... actually, let's make that six... in fact, the soil's so poor and clayey, it had better be eight!  Many pairs of boots squelched back and forth from the compost stack; even then it was pretty claggy underfoot.  It's done little but rain since, so there's been no chance to follow up the application of compost with digging it in or any other work for that matter.

Instead, we've been happily vandalising the grounds lifting all manner of perennials for propagation material; dividing some, lopping root cuttings off of others, potting up the offshoots and cuttings in the relative warmth of our shed-like classroom and then transporting the results across the yard to the hanger-sized polytunnels before cleaning up at the end of the day.

Not exactly a racing broom...

I've joked in the past about Reaseheath being like Hogwarts, but we really do seem to spend quite a lot of time using brooms.  I'm not sure any of them are really suitable for a game of Quidditch, though!

A small perk is that any surplus propagation material can be taken home if so desired, enabling us to practise our newly-acquired skills and add to our own stock of plants.  I was busy doing horizontal root cuttings from fibrous rooted perennials yesterday morning, working outdoors in the sunshine for about the fourth time this whole year.  My greenhouse is now home to a nice stash of Primula Denticulata, along with some Helleniums and an Ophiopogon or two from divisions. 

I resisted taking home spare bits of variegated Aegopodium podagraria; it may look pretty in the dappled shade of a woodland setting, but unmasked of its botanical alias, it's Ground Elder.  That's right, we were actually propagating one of the top three or four  most invasive perennial weeds you don't ever want to find growing in you garden!  Last year's 'propagules' were flourishing in the polytunnels and, when we lifted their trays to take them out for planting in the woods around the lake, we found masses of root sticking out of the bottom of their pots and right through the weed-suppressant membrane on the polytunnel floor into the soil beneath!

Apparently, it was introduced by the Romans as a food crop, but to coin a phrase, 'What have the Romans ever done for us?'

South by South-West

Lanhydrock House

Cornwall is justly famous for many beautiful gardens, blessed as it is by a mild climate and sheltered valleys with acid soils much-suited to rhododendrons and azaleas.  It's generally accepted that the time to see these at their best is during the spring, but our recent trip to visit friends and family in that part of the world proved that they can also be subtly beautiful on a misty day in November.

This was our first visit to Lanhydrock near Bodmin, and although the imposing house was closed (except for a Christmas dinner for its volunteers) the extensive grounds were open.  There is a marvellous knot garden containing very fine clipped yew topiary - elegantly and simply done, not the rather grotesque peacock and chessmen style stuff that, to my mind, gives it a bad name!  Gardens in that style work well all year round; in fact they often look at their most dramatic with a dusting of hoar-frost on a bright winter morning.


Topiary in the knot garden

 Possibly also with a view to winter structure, the gardeners at Lanhydrock take a relaxed view of tidying up the summer perennials at the end of the season.  Gone are the days of cutting everything herbaceous to the ground at the end of October: instead, the beds and borders present a pallet of gentle greens, browns and yellows as the foliage ages, dotted with the dramatic seed heads of Agapanthus and Astilbe.  It looks stunning, and I'm sure it's also great over-wintering habitat for all manner of insects too.

Don't cut back your summer perennials too early!

There's a dramatic woodland walk rising behind the house through groves of rhododendrons, which shouldn't be in flower now, though a few confused specimens were.  Drifts of Hydrangea, their predominantly blue tones hinting at the soil type, gave some dramatic splashes of colour from petals and foliage alike though the tendency was increasingly towards the muted shades of autumn.

Lanhydrock House from the woodland walk

There are lots more photographs to enjoy of this lovely site at http://www.flickr.com/photos/30634865@N03/sets/72157632113785451/  .  I can't put too many on here without Google wanting me to cross their palm with silver for the privilege, which isn't going to happen while they're busy evading tax!  I'll need to quietly go back and edit out some superfluous ones from old posts and increasingly rely on links to Flickr.

It was raining by the time we finished our walk round in the manner the Irish categorise as a 'fine, soft day', so some of the rather romantic misty look to the photos is simply down to raindrops on the camera lens.  It's safe to assume they get a lot of rain here, even by North Staffs standards - you only have to look at the lichen growth to appreciate that!

Lots of lichen

Luckily for Jon, a few impressive clumps of that had fallen out of the trees, so he should now have plenty of potential foliage for the model railway!

Certified

Autumn sunshine on the lake at Reaseheath

The was a minor celebration this week with the official presentation of RHS award certificates to those of us who managed to pass their fiendish exams in the previous academic year.  I now have an RHS Level 2 Certificate in the Principles of Horticulture, and the rather nice pale green piece of paper to prove it! 

Another qualification!

It was also great to catch up with some friends from last year, especially veterans of the 'Bridge too Far' trip to Arnheim.  We would have had more time to chat if I hadn't made the mistake of assuming the 'main hall' at Reaseheath was the room in which we sat our exams and dragging Jon off in that direction only to find it all locked up.  The climbing wall at the back ought to have been a clue that it was in fact a gym. 

The actual Main Hall is, logically enough, located inside the old stately home itself and is a rather splendid Victorian attempt at a medieval hall, complete with mistrels' gallery (but mercifully no minstrels) and stained glass windows.  Somewhat grander than the potting sheds and portacabins we've been used to!

Herself with certificate

So that's another qualification to add to the collection in my CV folder, along with the various 'O' and 'A' levels, my Ancient and Medieval History degree and Building Studies HNC.  It's tempting to conclude ruefully that despite all these, I still don't have a job that pays the bills, but as I settle down to tackle my online tax return, I can reflect that badly as I might think I've done this year, I am at least not running at a loss, and thus must have a far better business plan than those poor souls at Starbucks!

Pedant's corner

Papaver rhoeas

You know your interest in horticulture has 'jumped the shark' when you're reading your friends sincere and affecting Armistice Day comments on Facebook and viewing their updated profile pictures for the day, and looking at one very beautiful illustration you find yourself thinking 'that's not a poppy!  It's an anemone!  It's got six petals, so it's a monocotyledon, but poppies are dicots, and...'

It's an easy enough mistake to make at first glance.  Anemone coronaria 'de Caen' has a big flat single flower and a common cultivar is the same deep blood red shade as the Flanders Poppy with a black centre.  But it does have six petals rather than the four of the wild poppy, Papaver rhoeas, and they are very significantly different plants, since Papaver rhoeas is an annual raised from seed and Anemone de Caen are herbaceous perennials produced from corms.  And for those of you who like the scientific stuff, anemones are monocotyledons (ie. they have one 'seed leaf') while poppies are dicotyledons (two seed leaves) so in that great family tree of green things, branched off from each other a long, long time ago...

Another Field Poppy

Regarding poppies, it's important not to confuse Papaver rhoeas with the perennial Papaver orientalis or another annual, Papaver somniferum, the 'Opium Poppy'.  It is entirely legal to grow P. somniferum as a garden ornamental but mess about with it otherwise and the long arm of the law is going to be reaching your way!  

It would be a suitably geeky move at this stage to include photographs of both P. rhoeas and A. coronaria looking deceptively similar, but while I am awash with poppy pics of my own, since I love them and grow them enthusiastically, I've never had any luck growing anemone de Caen (I suspect slugs) and although I have some photos taken at Biddulph Grange, they seem to be of any colour except red.  So, alas, I have to refer those of you keen on further information to the redoubtable Wikipedia...
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Anemone_coronaria

If the contents of this article are correct, the Anemone coincidentally makes a very acceptable substitute for the Flanders Poppy, since it can appear naturally in huge drifts throughout the Middle East in countries sadly all too used to war and conflict, and allegedly even has an association with the British Army from the red berets worn by British Troops in Palestine in the 1940s.

So even the horticultural pedant should probably concede that it isn't what flower you choose, it's the thought that counts.

The Usual Suspects

The lake at Reaseheath in autumn sunshine

An integral part of the RHS Level 2 Practical is the 'Ident' exercise, where a selection of specimens displayed one week with labels are lined up the following week without, and us students have to correctly identify them.  It's handy to have a small camera to hand while the labels are out, and the resulting photos make for a useful resource for future use.

We've recently done vegetable seed identification, with the added challenge of translating the humble spud and lowly leek into Latin, but the ident prior to that was pests, disorders and diseases for which Plain English was quite acceptable. 

So here, fresh from the Defence Against the Dark Arts line up, are a few of the Usual Suspects...

Some of these have fairly simple, non-chemical solutions - for example increasing soil pH by liming is a good preventative against Club Root, and Blossom End Rot can be tackled by regular watering and adequate calcium.  Codling moth is usually sprayed against, though some degree of control is possible using traps smelling sweetly of lady moths that lure in and catch unsuspecting male moths on sticky paper.  Tough luck, guys!

Others, such as Honey Fungus, are seriously bad news and causing incurable havoc in domestic and historic gardens.  Some trees and woody shrubs are more resistent than others but its one of those things you really don't want to find in your garden and can spread a long way underground.

On the creepy-crawly side, we got to peer at Mealy Bug, Scale Insect and Two-spotted Spider mite, though the latter were already in trouble as they were in the final throes of predation by a parasitic bug that essentially does an 'Alien' job on them, laying its eggs inside the mite larvae.

And finally, everyone's least favourite garden gangsters, the vine weevil and the slug got to show us what they can do.  Most of us are probably more familiar with the damage the vine weevil grubs do to plant roots than the adult beetles' attacks on leaves, but it's a useful warning that they're about before you find out through your primulas unexpectedly keeling over through having no roots left.  Apparently, there are nematode biological controls for both, though the classic '50 ways to kill a slug' contains enough other imaginative ways to dispose of them that it seems a shame to resort to such stealthy, and relatively expensive means. 

Especially if you have a sharp stick, secateurs or scissors to hand!

Ashes to Ashes

Deciduous trees at Reaseheath

Teaching today at Reaseheath was interrupted for a walk around the grounds to admire some of the beautiful trees at the height of their autumn glory, but it's hard to look at woodlands right now without wondering how much damage could be done if, or sadly more likely when Ash dieback, Chalara fraxinea takes hold.

It's still unclear how this deadly fungal disease of Ash (Fraxinus excelsior) reached the UK and airborne spores are appear as like a cause as infected imported saplings, but I'm sure I'm not alone in wondering why there was ever a need to import Ash trees.  Ironically, every year I have weeded dozens out of the beds in the garden and usually composted them, although last year I propagated several dozen and gave the young trees to a tutor at Reaseheath for her Guide troop to plant, specifically because, at the time, Ash was regarded as a good disease-resistant choice in the face of increasing problems for oaks.  How quickly things can change.

No doubt there are scores of Ash seedlings growing in the garden here right now, the children of a beautiful tree at the foot of our neighbours' garden, and when I'm raking leaves and tidying the borders for winter, I'll find a good few of them.  I'm tempted to try and save some, potting them up and giving them the protection of a cold greenhouse, but they can't stay there for more than a season or two before they would need an outdoor site.  By then, hopefully there will be some progress in the fight against this killer disease and the trees will be able to safely leave their 'Ark', but it's a depressing thought that they might just need to be destroyed to prevent the spread and persistence of the problem.

Please see the attached article for more information on this disease and keep a close eye Ash trees near you.
http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/science-environment-20128172

Practical Magic

Cheshire's answer to Hogwarts?

I suppose I shouldn't have been too surprised that my previous post received an unusually high number of hits; potatoes of vaguely obscene shapes are clearly more interesting to my readers than money-saving recycling tips or aesthetically pleasing planting schemes!

But sadly, people, that's all the kinky spuds for this year; the ones still being lifted are very ordinary shapes, though infested with a new pest in some cases, identified with the invaluable assistance of Harry Delany at Reaseheath College as millipedes rather than tiny worms.  I must treat myself to a hand lens...

Wriggling pests - tiny millipedes, not worms.

Hopefully, the triumph of the creepy-crawlies will be short lived, now I am back at Reaseheath and three weeks in to the RHS Level 2 Practical Course which, should I complete it successfully, converts my RHS Certificate to a Diploma.  You've got to admit, that sounds dead clever, doesn't it? 

It's a course in which you get your hands dirty; literally.  Last week we were testing soil samples, a process familiar to most four-year-olds as essentially it's about making mud pies and then trying to roll pieces into balls and sausages.  The squishiness of the outcome and the time it takes to swarfega the residue off your hands tells you whether you're dealing with a sand, silt or clay soil.  How accurate it is I couldn't say, but it was fun!  We also tried our hands at some proper science with pH testing kits and got some quite dramatic results from a variety of soils, though myself and a fellow student using the same soils samples produced results a good 0.5 apart, suggesting some dodgy testing solution was to blame.



Colourful results



pH test - shaken not stirred!

This week it was the fine art of filling seed trays, properly, and sowing seeds of various sizes economically and evenly.  It's only when you watch someone doing it properly (and that won't be on 'Gardener's World' according to our Harry!) that you realise it's not just a matter of bundling some compost into a tray and flattening the top off. 

Here's one we did earlier...

We'll know whether we got it right next week when our efforts emerge from the germination room

All that, and the challenge of learning to identify twenty-seven different pests, diseases and disorders ready for testing next week.  I managed a clean sheet on my previous 'ident' test getting all 20 of  the perennial plants, but will I be able to tell my 'capsid bug' from my 'two-spotted spider mite', my 'bitter pit' from my 'apple scab'?  I bet the suspence is killing you!





That's Life...?

A particularly bizarre Pink Fir Apple potato

In between the gallows humour invoked by the worst growing season in living memory and other odd bits of silliness, posts on this blog have tackled some fairly deep issues, climate change, Fair Trade and racial prejudice (not exclusively in relation to squirrels) to name a few.  There have been highbrow and lowbrow literary references, the odd nod to the film buff and a few passages of purple prose that got dangerously close to poetry.  This post isn't like any of those.  It exists entirely to amuse and delight those of you who enjoy that time-honoured tradition of sniggering at 'rude' vegetables. 

A few weeks ago, I was despairing at the state of my potato crop after a particularly virulent attack of blight during the late summer, but I think it's fair to say that the harvest has so far been better than expected and has indeed produced a few surprises...

Those of you old enough to remember the lowlights of Sunday evening TV in the 1970s will agree that this particular 'Pink Fir Apple' tater is unlucky to have been born too late and thus miss out on a staring role on 'That's Life'! 

If 'Pink Fir Apple' spuds are worthy of a giggle individually, collectively they are hilarious, one might even suggest 'hysterical'.  I hesitate to imagine what the Victorians who first cultivated them made of them.  Mash, presumably, for the sake of modesty, and even then, possibly not for their wives or servants!

A photo worthy of a caption competition, perhaps?

It's not just the spuds that can be a potentially embarrassing addition to the veg box or the dinner plate.  Parsnips grown in stony ground can also turn out to be rather amusing, even if not particularly impressive.

Well, that's lowered the tone enough for one blog and probably put several of you off your dinner.  Something more edifying next time, I promise!

But I do wonder whatever happened to that skateboarding duck and the dog that could say 'sausages'...

Recognition

Local Hero - JH on our allotment.

After a particularly trying time on the allotment this year, with the twin evils of potato blight and pouring rain destroying much of what we tried to grow, it was a rather pleasant surprise and a welcome boost to morale when we found that Jon had been nominated for one of our local council's inaugural allotment awards.  It was even more of a boost to actually receive a 'Certificate of Merit' for our plot, as in all honesty we probably lavished less love and care on it this year than usual. 

I have no hesitation at all in giving Jon the credit for the award, as although I generally make the call regarding what gets planted and where, and play a full part in getting the seeds into the ground and the produce out again, Jon has been responsible for the routine maintenance of keeping the paths strimmed and neat from one week to the next, and has also done most of the weeding.

The certificates were presented, along with a cup for the best kept plot (to a rival site - boo, hiss!) and shield for best newcomer (to our neighbouring plot-holder Chris, a very well-deserved award) at a reception at Kidsgrove Town Hall.  The Town Mayor, Councillor Gill Burnett, handed out the prizes, and there were complementary drinks, including beer, wine and non-alcoholic and crisps and breadstick snacks.  It was great to see some allotmenteers had brought their families along, and also encouraging to note several certificates of merit to female plot-holders. 

We couldn't help wondering what the scene might have been thirty years ago; probably all gents gathered around tables, wreathed in cigarette smoke and with pints and ham sandwiches before them.  We've come a long way since the allotment was where Himself went to get away from 'Er Indoors! 

So many thanks to everyone at Kidsgrove, especially Town Clerk Jill Waring, for organising such an enjoyable social event and encouraging us in our horticultural endeavours. 

Ladybird, Ladybird, Fly Away Home...?

Sticking with the entomological theme of the previous post for the time being (though I can't help wondering why entomology isn't the study of walking, talking trees rather than insects), the brief splash of warm weather at the weekend seemed to trigger the hatching of a veritable kaleidoscope of strangely-coloured and unusually marked ladybirds.

A wee bit of research indicates that they are Harlequin Ladybirds Harmonia axyridis which is supposed to be bad news as they are regarded as an invasive non-native species with the potential to out-compete native ladybirds. 

Yeah, the nasty little foreign b*****ds!  Coming over here, eating our aphids...!  Whatever next?

Well, call me unpatriotic, but I don't really care whether these guys are technically 'invaders' and not 'indiginous'.  They're pretty, they are eating the aphids on my fruit trees, bless their glossy little wing cases, and I'm not squishing them just because they can't trace their family trees back to a creepy crawly ancestor mooching about in Boudicca's back garden.  I don't have any time for racism when it's applied to my fellow human beings, so I'm damned if I'm going to persecute insects on that basis.

Metamorphosis - larva transforming into a beetle

Most of my ornamentals and edibles in the plant department aren't 'native' either, but am I going to dig them up and expel them any time soon?  I think not. 

I like grey squirrels too, and not in stews and casseroles being served at restaurants trying to be trendy or edgy, but scampering about in trees and parks and even raiding the bird table and robbing the nuts off the hazel tree.  Thanks to their habit of burying food and forgetting where they've stashed it (which invites debate on how they do compete so effectively, does it not?), I have a good supply of young hazel trees ready for transplanting, so in future years there will be nuts enough for us to share.  I even have one as my ident on my Flick photostream!

I'm delighted to say that I'm not alone in this respect.  Thanks to a recent Guardian article (of course I'm a Guardian reader!  What else could I read - it ain't going to be the Daily Mail, is it?) on the proposed culling of grey squirrels, I found this brilliantly argued and forthrightly funny article by naturalist and TV presenter Chris Packham.

 http://www.wildlifeextra.com/do/ecco.py/view_item?listid=2&listcatid=11&listitemid=3959&live=0#cr

Towards the end of the article, Chris writes: "A serious, even custodial sentence awaits anyone deliberately releasing non native species into the wild; this even applies if you nurse a Grey squirrel back to health and let it go again; that's fine, okay... Well, what about the six hundred thousand Ring-necked Pheasants turned out every year just so they can be blown out of the skies, or get run over, whichever comes first? Non-natives that support a complete industry, a whole economy... Oh, yeah, well that's different isn't it mate. Funny that, one rule for rats another for big money and influential people who like to kill things - certain ugly parallels wouldn't you say?"

Right on, Packham!  Seriously, Chris mate, right on!