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!

The Butterfly Effect

Peacock Butterfly

You've probably heard the of the 'chaos theory' concept that the minute disturbances of the atmosphere caused by the fluttering of a butterfly's wings can be the origin of a hurricane or tropical storm on the other side of the world.  I'm not sure whether I find that scary or inspirational.

Red Admiral

This year in our garden, I have to say that the more obvious impact has been of the weather on butterflies, rather than vice versa; I have never seen so few as during the present cold, wet summer.

Painted Lady

In previous years our garden has been home to plenty of glorious butterflies and sometimes they even settle long enough for me to get the camera focused on them.

The first seen is often the Peacock, sometimes quite early in March, with Tortoiseshells, Speckled Wood, Meadow Brown and Comma sighted throughout the spring and summer, joined by Red Admirals and Painted Ladies later in the spring and through to autumn.

Old Comma on a blackberry leaf

This year, I have seen very few butterflies of any species, but that doesn't mean they haven't sneaked in unobserved from time to time.  Indeed, while my back has been turned there have clearly been some busy in the garden, if not the ones we're happy to see.

Shredded broccoli, thanks to cabbage white caterpillers.

While we were away on our narrowboat trips, the Cabbage Whites must have been about, as we've been picking lots of chubby green and black striped caterpillars off of our lacy-looking brassica crops over the last few days and gleefully dropping the little blighters into the pond.

So be warned caterpillers - mess with our cabbages, and you'll literally be sleeping with the fishes!

Pot Luck

"I think it's some sort of Hemp" said our friend...

Just for a change, I'm sitting at the computer listening to torrential rain ricocheting off the lean-to greenhouse, and I've just had to put a light on in order to see where to get the memory card out of my camera, despite it being midday and August. 

It's great to be home!

We've been away from home for a week, visiting Jon's new baby grandson (plus proud parents and almost equally proud uncle), my folks in Southampton and a few other friends we haven't seen for years. 

For their own protection, a couple of these friends need to remain anonymous.  We spent a very enjoyable day in their company catching up on news, sharing photographs and eating probably the best cheese scones in the world, before taking a quick stroll around the garden between heavy showers.  We don't have a monopoly on them up here, evidently.

An unusual, elegant and architectural plant gracing the border close to their bird table caught my eye.  It was easily my height and had a leaf similar to an acer but clearly from its shape and growth habit it wasn't a tree.  "I think it's some sort of Hemp" said our friend.

Not an Urban Myth - something narcotic in the bird seed?

 It didn't look like anything routinely found on sale at the Garden Centre, that was for sure! 

It had apparently "just appeared" there, Officer. 

"Yeah, right!  Tell that to the Judge!" you might be thinking, but many years ago as a kid I can remember being told by my mother to sweep up all the wild bird seed that fell on the ground under the bird table because some of it was supposedly cannabis and she didn't want us to be arrested if it started growing. 

I always assumed this was an Urban Myth; certainly nothing that's ever fallen from my bird table has ever grown into anything that wasn't just wheat or oats.  Maybe I buy cheap and nasty bird seed compared to our (nameless) friends, or possibly the cool, wet Staffordshire climate doesn't favour germination in the same way as that of balmy Hampshire.

But I can't help wondering if we now know why those cheese scones taste so damned good!

From wedding to weeding

I mentioned a couple of blogs ago that I finally had a proper commercial project on my hands after relying on my former CAB co-workers for altogether too much of my very limited gardening tasks to date.  It's only a small-scale job, planting up a herb garden and adding some ground cover to some borders that are parched due to having quite thin soil and all the moisture in it sucked up by the roots of a cherry laurel hedge, but it's a proper start at last.

It's also a job that came my way via a peculiar sequence of coincidences, starting from my enthusiasm for photography.  It's something I've been enjoying as a hobby for almost as long as I've been gardening.  They did have cameras back then, but none of this digital paraphenalia - my constant companion for many years was an 'Olympus Trip', with an old Practika SLR for the clever stuff, and I took slides, which was great discipline for making me compose a shot carefully, as there was no scope to cut or crop later and of course none of that 'photoshopping' malarky either.

When I eventually relented slightly of my Luddite ways and got a digital camera (my trusty Nikon D40) it was so that I could do the photos for a young relative who was getting married on a very tight budget.  The bride and groom were delighted with the results and, to be honest, so was I.  Naturally, I've never looked back, apart from occasional wistful comments about the quality of the light in slides.

Back to the 'how I got my herb garden commission' story.

I took some photos last year of a local carnival where there was a Town Criers' Competition and, being pleased with the results and having enjoyed seeing and hearing the Criers in action, gave a disc of the best shots to the councillor (and Town Crier) who had organised the event.

Some months later, he was showing the photos to his brother and his brother's fiancee, and they saw this picture.

And on the stregth of this shot, asked if I could do their wedding photos.  My Town Crier friend asked and, making the assumption that it would be quite a small-scale wedding (being a second marriage for both) I agreed.

The wedding actually proved to be a fairly fabulous affair with a country house hired for the weekend, gorgeous frocks, the groom and best man being flown in by helicopter, a piper, a wedding singer during the wedding breakfast and even a fly-past by the Red Arrows, though I'm still not sure whether that was planned or just happy coincidence.  I missed them, but thankfully I got some really good shots of everything else and the bride and groom were really pleased.

When I took the disc of pictures round for them, I happened to remark that this wasn't my usual line of work at all, but in fact I was trying to establish myself as a gardener.  Luckily, they had work for a gardener to do, specifically some begonias to go in for summer bedding, but also a couple of borders at the back which needed planting, and some bare patches in the front where nothing much wanted to grow except weeds, especially chickweed (the unfairly glamorous sounding Stellaria media).

We were soon talking herbs and perennial ground cover...

I spent one morning planting out the begonias and trying to figure out the strange soil conditions, then had a quick shopping expedition with 'the bride' to choose some herbs, and finally spent another morning planting out the herbs and getting some of my indestructable Alchemilla mollis tucked in around the feet of that cherry laurel.

Culinary herbs in a sunny border, with the fennel looking a little shell-shocked from transplanting!

What has been particularly enjoyable has been working out in her garden with 'the bride', teaching her a few little gardening tips and talking about what aftercare the plants will need, and just chatting, getting to know what she would like from her garden, what colours and leaf shapes appeal and, since aromatherapy is something she has studied in a professional capacity, what scents and fragrances we can use. 

There are some more gaps to fill in the front and some spring bulbs would fill the spaces when the herbaceous perennial herbs die back for the winter, so I am looking forward to returning to do some more work for this lovely couple in the near future.