The whole of the moon

I've been doing some experimentation with moon planting this year.  In January I sowed my 'ring of fire' chilli seeds using the moon planting cycle.  I consulted Gydion McPagan's moon planting guide. Gwydion said that anything other than root crops can be planted from two days before new moon to three days before full.  So, as they were not root crops I sowed them as the moon was beginning to wax.  They germinated very quickly, I think in just over a week, and I had 100 percent germination.  Unfortunately I moved them outside too early, and they perished in the frost. 

It was a little too late to do another sowing, but I did anyway, in early March.  These seeds took three weeks to germinate, and I only had three come up out of about 8 seeds sown.  The only other difference besides the moon phase was the first batch had the benefit of my Dad's heated propagator.  Perhaps that is more significant than moon phase!  I'll have to try again next year without a propagator. 

The most recent sowings I did were totally contra moon phase, as I had left it a bit late to sow and couldn't risk waiting another two weeks for the correct phase.  They all did very well, and germinated at much the same rate and with the same percentage as the first batch of chilli seeds. 

I need to do some more experiments to really be clear about whether it makes any difference, but thats good because I enjoy experimental gardening most of all.

Slow worm!

Today it was time to make some adjustments to my black plastic protective layer on the long allotment.  The weeds were becoming too established in the areas where there were gaps in it, so I woke the pile of back up plastic from its dreary dark slumber and hauled it across to where it was needed.  To my delight I discovered that a slow worm had been sheltering in the warmth created by the plastic heap.  I'd encountered it before, under another area of black plastic that I had to lift for landscaping.  There was also a large toad, and it seemed to me they had been resting there in companionable silence for some time.  I was sorry to disturb them, and that I didn't have my camera.  Fortunately this time I had remembered it, so am able to show you.

No medlars

The first seeds I sowed in the greenhouse were medlar seeds I found from fallen fruits near where I live.  I feel rather sad, as it is now clear that none of them has germinated.  Perhaps I needed to stratify the seeds.  That sounds like another question for the RHS My Garden forum.

Time for a strim

I can't be in denial any longer.  I need a strimmer.  I made the first cut of the year the other day, and that's when the truth dawned on me. Quentin the qualcast push mower is a loyal friend, but his blades are no match for the tough grass, stones and weeds.   They are constantly getting jammed, and I am concerned at how much I am straining my feminine anatomy with the battle for tamed lawn. 

Mike my friendly fellow allotmenteer could see my plight and offered to show me how to use the scary allotment strimmer. I have always been rather wary of it, in the same way that I am wary of dogs.  It lives in the communal shed under lock and key, and is a man sized whirling dervish of a strimmer.  It reminds me of one of those staff-like weapons advanced martial arts people use.  Sometimes I see a person using it with a full helmet type mask on, making it look even more like a dangerous fighting tool.  Anyway, perhaps appearances are deceptive, and it is very kind of Mike to give me a demonstration.  He assures me that the shoulder straps take most of the weight. 

I've looked online at strimmers, and the most lightweight petrol ones are around 4kg.  I experimented with weighted doorstops, and even 2kg felt too heavy to me.  Perhaps I should install a goat on my plot instead.

Sun burn

My very experienced gardener friend came to inspect my greenhouse today, and I was able to show him my poor brown seedlings.  He has been gardening many years, and straight away he could tell that they had been scorched by the sun.  Not only are the French beans and barlotti beans affected, now my treasured mini red turban and potimarron squashes have suffered too.  So much so that I have had to do another whole sowing.  They were lovely healthy young seedlings when I took their propagator lid off, and then the next day most of them were withered and beige, their poor leaves sagging on the earth.  I felt terrible, as it was clearly my fault.  However, I've come to learn that these mistakes are all part of the gardening experience.  I've now put a fleece all across the glass on the side nearest the seedlings to diffuse the light (I don't have any shading netting) and have had no more tragedies.  I'll be especially vigilant when it's time to take the lids off the next batches though.

prima vera

My greenhouse at the moment gladdens my heart.  When I open the door I am greeted with the humming fug of growing plants.  Many of them now no longer need their little plastic propagator lids, and are stretching boldly out of the earth.  I am fascinated by the power of the nascent plant that is within the seed to push its way out of its husk into the earth, then out of the earth into the air, just from the encouragement of warmth and water. 

I have 100 percent germination of my potimarron and mini red turban squashes.  I am delighted because these are the squashes I fell in love with in a French auberge in the summer.  The mini red turban in particular is a fabulous vegetable, beautiful because of its irregularities.
 

The broad bean seeds I kept from the delicious broad beans I cropped last year have all germinated.  I also have success with my peas and other squashes.  The dwarf French bean Royalty has not been so successful.  All the seeds germinated, but half of them are sad brown mutants.  I can't work out what went wrong.  They may have got scorched by the sun as they first sprouted from the soil, but none of the other seedlings has been affected.  I may write to the RHS My Garden forum about it. 

There is no sign of germination of my very hot chilli seeds - 'Ring of Fire'.  This is very sad, because I killed off the first lot of wonderfully healthy seedlings by leaving them outside for the frost to do its worst.  It's now too late to sow more.  My brother posesses the last surviving seedling, so hopefully his will thrive to make up for it all. 

The biggest surpise for me is that the honeydew melon seeds have germinated.  They were just seeds from a melon that had been discarded in a compost heap.  I must have got the conditions just right in the greenhouse without even trying.  I am glad that something that was thrown away has been given the chance of life. 

Not a quince

When I first took on the small allotment, I was intrigued about the identity of the tiny tree which greets people as they enter.  It matched the tiny shed very well.  I was hoping it would be a quince, as I started to tend one that bows over my boundary on my long allotment, before I realised it was maintained by somebody else. 

However, now it is blooming, its true identity is revealed.  It is a child of the large plum tree nearby,  having grown up from its roots.  In fact there is a whole line of them stretching accross the allotments, so you can trace where the parent root is under the ground.  This plum tree has the most delicious plums I have ever tasted in the summer.  I gorged myself on them in a quite shameful manner last year.  It was a compulsion  - one was never enough, and I would reach to dangerous heights, balanced precariously, just to have another taste of the honeyed sweetness.  They made an excellent open topped tart, but nothing could beat the taste of them fresh. 

So I am very happy to discover that I have my own tiny version of the plum tree.  I wonder if it will have a good crop this year.  I think I will be kind and give it a feed of chicken manure and bone meal. 

New neighbour

I had been coveting the other half plot neighbouring mine for a while.  I had visions of it becoming a dedicated area for beehives and wildlife.  It was not meant to be.  I discovered with some dismay that it had been given to somone else.  I watched with alarm as this someone else started clearing it in a rather ruthless and speedy manner.  I heard rumours of plans for a shed, and requests for permission to install footings for it.

This was a hard core alotmenteer, and the shed plans filled me with dread.  How big would it be, and would it be placed next to my greenhouse, where it would cut off the light and cause my newly sewn seedlings much stress as they strained for the sun's rays?  Would it be placed on my other boundary, where it would cast menacing shadows over my crops so they became stunted and inedible?  As you can see, I became a little obsessed about it. 

When I discovered that the person had been advised by the Alotments Overseer to put his shed in a position which would cut off most of the south facing light from my greenhouse, I knew that I had to take action.  I emailed the mystery person, and got a reply from his helper, who assured me that he was going to put the shed totally the other side of the plot in a place where it wouldn't cast light on mine.  I was heartily relieved, but I still watch the developments next door with some trepidation.  I haven't yet been able to meet the person in the flesh, and am hoping that he might be a hunky young man, or even a male pixie soul mate.  It is always best to think positively.

The rainbow bridge

For many months it has seemed that the only colourful growing things in my allotments have been the hanging basket flowers.  They have been like two little beacons in the muddy greyness all around. 

It has been the ideal time however to finish the restructuring jobs.  The allotments are taking shape structurally in a very practical way.  I am observing how I use them, and then putting things in place to make it easier.  It seems that way they are developing forms that are both pleasing and functional. 

The main project has been the paths both into the small allotment and across it to the larger one.  The paved entrance was rather ungainly and impractical when I took the small allotment on.  I was having to dodge past the bath and the strawberries with my tool laden rucksack and the wheelbarrow. 

The journey from one allotment to another was equally difficult.  It was inevitably muddy and unpredictable. To an onlooker I would probably have looked slightly worse for drink as I  slid daily on the mud and black plastic. 

There is a large paved area in the small allotment.  I can't really work out what it is for, but I have been gradually using its paving slabs to make the passage from one allotment to another a safe and enjoyable one. 

I prised the slabs away from their plastic lining with an old shovel.  With the slab balanced on the shovel I was able to grip it underneath and lift it free.  I am only a small pixie, so it would be very unwise to lift paving slabs.  Instead I rolled them on their sides.  This was very effective and rather fun.  I realigned the remaining slabs by sliding the shovel a little under their edges and nudging. This has formed a more practical and pleasing path by the entrance.

As I lifted the slabs I exposed a blood curdling advanced network of couche grass roots.  They made good kindling when dry for the Spring bonfire. 

Once I had realigned the path I had to move the entrance as well.  I found a piece of wire fencing of the perfect dimensions and installed it with wire and a staple gun to seal the old entrance.  Then I made a gateway of fence by staple gunning the end of it to a wooden stake and creating a nifty wire loop to hold it closed. 

I then secured the other side of the entrance by fixing a post firmly into the ground and looping the top supporting wire over it.  I was very pleased with the results. 

The hanging gardens of pixieland

The allotments looked so dark and colourless, shrowded in plastic and with little growing in them, that I was desperate to put colour in them somehow. I decided on hanging baskets. I acquired one from my dad that was bleached aqua by the sun and was beginning to lose its coating, and along with it a totally rusty bracket. I rather liked the timeworn look though. I'm a fan of the Japanese idea of wabi sabi. This is the idea that there is beauty in an object which has undergone the process of decay. It is the beauty of being in time and bound to the earth. Natural decay creates many different patterns and textures, and there is a wordless poetry in the way it changes form. I also like rusty broken old things because they often cost no money at all. I put the wabi sabi hanging basket and bracket on my wabi sabi shack, and they certainly looked like they were made for each other.

I treated the other allotment's tiny shed to a brand new tiny hanging basket to match its more pristine character.

I decided on sustainably sourced sphagnum moss as a liner, as it would provide year round colour and texture and was a living thing. The tiny basket is a mix of moss and wool actually, as I didn't have quite enough moss, and the wool was surplus to my Dad's requirements. It gives an interesting layered effect.

I filled each basket with a rainbow of colours - snowdrops, irises, cyclamen and violas. They've cheered me and the allotment through the winter months, although the cyclamen suffered quite badly from the frost. They still keep bravely putting forth buds though.

too much of a good thing

I suppose the issue that has most coloured the last two months is my addiction to black plastic, and how I came to a sticky end through it. 

I found myself becoming increasingly depressed by the overwhelming presence of black.  It was as if I was being suffocated under it just as much as the weeds.  I realised how much it was affecting me when I cleared some of it away to prepare my Yule bonfire.  I immediately felt lifted and lightened when it was off the land. I noticed how much the plastic had already cleared the knotted mass of grassy stems and leaves. Everywhere was a good clean brown. 

It was a fine structure of a bonfire, incorporating my Dad's old shed and a lot of bone dry paper and cardboard.  I was very proud. It came to life at Yule in a most beautiful and dramatic manner.  It was a thoroughly illuminating and magical fire, and a time for making hearty wishes for the future.  I really felt in tune with the turning seasons and the magnificent cosmic dance that surrounds me.  Sometimes it takes a bonfire to make me aware of it. 

The only downside was I left the car back door open again and almost had a flat battery.  Charis the Yaris bless her has a rather sensitive battery, and it doesn't take much for her to go into hibernation this time of year.  She did totally go flat once at the allotment, when I'd got carried away and left the back door open for a couple of hours.  Luckily that time she did recover by just leaving her to recharge on her own for an afternoon.

So after the bonfire I had a strong desire to remove all the black plastic, but was torn as it was the wrong time to sow green manure and I couldn't face having to weed a good 100 metre square area of land. 

However, my karma caught up with me, and the time came when I had to return what was not mine, as a matter of urgency.  I had to return it in the state I had found it, which took a lot of hard work.  Family and friends marvelled at my achievement.  Under the cover of darkness I waited until the coast was clear, then dragged my karma like a dead body into a place where it looked like it had always been.  I had learnt my lesson.  I had thought the allotment was abandoned.  Again I hear my mad medieval studies teacher admonishing me with the words 'never assume anything'.  There is a fine line between madness and wisdom. 

Blackplasticgate coincided with the beginning of the new year, with the birds singing more strongly, and the days getting slightly longer.  One by one the smaller pieces of black plastic found their way back to the communal area where I had found them.  I now only have a few pieces flapping around like massive prehistoric bats, tethered to my land by old bits of wood and bricks.  In March I will be able to set them free, as I've purchased a reassuring quantity of green manure seed.  It will mean I will no longer be dependent on black plastic, and my soil will be much healthier for it. 

I was initially confused, and then in a state of wonder, over all the different green manures there are.  Green manures to fix and lift nitrogen, green manures to smother weeds, green manure for overwintering, green manure to leave in situ for several years, and low growing green manure to grow in between crops.  I was like a child in a sweet shop.  I made my choice and took the plunge with my plastic money, then discovered the same thing in my local hardware shop for half price!  Ah well, at least I was supporting a good cause. 

Together with the green manure, I bought a healthy amount of vegetable seeds from Garden Organic.  It is a very easy to use website, and they provide a very useful paper catalogue too.  I was able to buy the two varieties of courge I'd been coveting since I'd seen them growing in France.  I've also bought some purple beans and some magenta striped barlotti beans.  Also pop corn - small red cobs that look like giant raspberries.  I've also invested in chamomile and thyme seed, so I can create paths between the beds that aren't muddy and don't need mowing.  Most things don't have to be sown until March, but I'm going to sow the long curly sweet peppers and the chilli peppers this weekend.

That sinking feeling

I'm having to come to terms with the sad and unavoidable fact that my shack has terminal subsidence.  I only realigned the lock a few days ago, and already its sticking.  I'm going to have to get creative with orange baling twine. 

Today I planted the rest of the pretty double snowdrops I found hidden behind my bamboo fencing.  I remembered them from last year, and sure enough there they were their little faces all twinkling with the new year.  They were in a large tight clump, together with some crocuses.  They were so far above the soil that the bulbs were showing, and the crocuses seem to be blind.  I've planted them in rings around the four apple trees, along the new path that crosses the smaller allotment, and in the new beds bordering the new front door path of the same allotment. 

It was a beautiful sunny day today, just the right sort of day to send healthful wishes to the land and all the seeds that will be growing in it. 

Time flies

I can't believe it's so long since I wrote my last post!  So much has happened since, that it's going to take months to write it down. 

I seem to be attuned to the seasons, as the last two months were spent putting the garden to sleep, and strengthening its weak points.  These became clear as the nights became colder, and creatures started to adopt my shack as a place for snuggling up together.  The wren took her boyfriend there, and my lintel began to resemble one of those rocks inhabited by thousands of seagulls.  I tolerated it for a while, as I felt sorry for them, but there were plenty of other places to roost, including the very luxurious establishment I had purchased for her. 

So, I began a step by step process of sealing every hole or gap I could find in the shack.  This involved staple gunning roofing felt, nailing new planks over the floor,walls and door, and realigning the front door lock.  This last action eventually solved the problem, as I discovered that they were ingressing through the gaps top and bottom due to shack subsidence over the year.  The problem was I finally won the battle just before a particularly cold spell.  I just hope they survived.

I've also had a little battle with a rodent.  I first became aware of its presence because of a little offering left on my oilcloth table cloth one morning.  Actually for a mouse it was a rather large offering, so for a while I was concerned I had a rat.  Eventually I discovered what was going on.  I heard rustling in a wooden chest, and on opening it saw that the plates I had carefully stored away for bacon sandwiches had become the shelter of a small rodent.  There was fresh evidence piled into the bubble wrap.  I could see how it would have made a lovely warm home.  So out came the detol and the pink rubber gloves. 

I managed to discover the true identity of the culprit the other day when I was quietly having some refreshing herbal tea in the corner of my shack.  A little vole sneaked in through the open door, and scuttled round the floor.  Eventually it chose the guitar case on the bean bag as a pleasant place to stay.  I had to admire its wisdom.  Nice warm plastic supported by comfortable polystyrene beads.  I took pity and left it there for a while.  When I eventually came to disturb it, I was greeted by an implausably large pile of excreta, and an equally surprising quantity of urine.  It had soaked nicely into the golden corduroy of the bean bag.  Out came the detol and the gloves again.  I'm gradually learning to be as ruthless as my fellow creatures.