Trepanned

My poor shed has once again been trepanned by the elements.  It has a one inch crack along its apex from where it twists in the wind around the vortex it is sitting on .  Now there is a hole in the plastic, so it once again has a gap for the rain to get in.  Maybe it has an improved spiritual connection and feels a sense of release and lightness, but its beautifully decorated interior will not benefit physically.  So it's up the ladder for a temporary fix with the staple gun for me.

Pure gold willow

Whilst in the village car park yesterday, I discovered a huge pile of willow branches.  A cunning plan formed in my mind, and today I set it in motion. 

I've wanted to learn how to weave baskets for a while now, and just recently bought an excellent book - Handmade Baskets by Suzie Vaughan.  I was inspired by how she forages for materials.  She made her first basket from a fallen willow she encountered on a walk, and now here was this golden pile of branches for me. 

The whole day has reminded me of fairytale characters.  I thought it was wise to check first in the shop in front of the car park, to see if the offcuts had an owner.  I felt like I was interacting with a troll under a bridge or something, as he certainly didn't make things easy for me.  However I was persistently cheerful, and in the end was allowed to pass unhindered, and onwards to my goal . 

I should have brought my gloves, as the branches were covered in frost, but i worked my way though the pile and in the end got most of it in the generous rear of Charis the Yaris.  I've already earmarked some pieces for interesting handles, and there was another species of tree there which had red berries and purple branches which will be attractive woven in with the yellow willow. 

I feel like I need to engage the services of Rumplestiltskin, as I think once again I may be overextending myself.  It's a huge pile of willow, and I have a lot of other irons in the fire.  Sometimes I think I need to clone myself.  Anyway, the pieces I don't use will make lovely firewood. 

I currently have some willow wands developing healthy buds in a pot in my greenhouse.  I struck them last autumn, not really knowing if it would work or not, but they all seem to have taken.  I plan to establish several varieties of willow for copicing at the far end of the long allotment, so I can add to the materials I forage from the hedgerows with my own crop for weaving. 

I'm going to quarter the land at the end of the plot with a cross, and ultimately place a beehive in the middle.  It will be surrounded by the willow, which will provide a wind break for the long stemmed wheat I intend to grow there.  Long stemmed wheat has a tendency to make its own crop circles if there's a strong wind.  I've been hankering after a field of it ever since I took on the allotment.  Brian a fellow allotmenteer said I could have some of his, but then he was taken ill and it got past the planting time. 

Ideally I'd love to grow Maris Widgeon, which is the wheat traditionally used for corn dollies.  I used to make corn dollies when there was long stemmed wheat readily available in the fields, but now it is all short stemmed.  This is no good for corn dollies, as you need a good long straw to make the forms.  So this November I am determined to aquire a supply and sow it. 

We meet again Moriarti

My injury has forced me to go a bit slower in the allotments.  I was determined to get back in the saddle as soon as possible as far as the post was concerned though.  I learnt from my Granddad when I crashed into his patio furniture whilst learning to drive that it is healthy to get back to the job in hand straight away once you've had a set back. 

I placed the club hammer respectfully in the garage and went back to mend the fence.  The process went smoothly, even with a finger out of action.  My neighbour did reply to my email in the end, and said I could take any fencing I liked.  It turned out that his fencing had the proper depth needed to match the fence, so I cut a piece of the right size and staple gunned it on the post and tied it in to the existing fence. 

I'm very satisfied with the result.  It looks very vermin proof.

I've now selected suitable posts to strengthen the fence at the end of Longottment, where the badgers and muntjaks ingress.  I'll have to wait until my finger has healed before I can use the club hammer again though. 

Beware club hammers

This post is taking me longer to write than normal, as my little finger is incapacitated.  I was over zealous with a club hammer, and wasn't concentrating properly.  I was so glad I have a first aid tin in the shack, but it was a challenge to release a plaster from the packet one handed. 

I was doing so well too - I'd made a good deep hole, had selected a strong post, and had lined everything up.  I had plans to finish the fencing and transplant stawberries today, but I have to know when to take a step back.  I'm reminded of the stern warning on a sign as you enter the allotments to warn off intruders - DANGER! - and actually there is some substance to it.  It's especially true when a pixie full of spring energy isn't properly grounded. 

Anyway, some good came out of it.  I discovered that when I rested my finger on the branch of the dowager apple tree much of my discomfort melted away.  I suppose it might have been psychological, but whatever it was it was beneficial. 

It has also led me to a discovery of the healing powers of frankincense essential oil.  Coincidentally some arrived in the post today, and I felt it would be a good thing to put a few drops into the water I bathed my finger in.  I looked it up, perhaps a little unwisely after I had done it, and apparantly it's been used to heal wounds since ancient times, as it is antiseptic and stops bleeding.  It smells nicer than tcp as well. 

It was a bit difficult driving home one handed, and I now have to walk back up there again, as I've left my mobile phone on the cold frame. 

First things first

Yesterday I was surprised to hear a familiar buzzing that took me right into summertime.  It was a lone honey bee swirling about in the sunny air.  The warmth must have woken it up.  I hope it survives.

Today I was determined to plant something, so looked on the back of my seed packets to see if anything could tolerate outside planting conditions.  The wild primroses could, so they're now  scattered on some seed compost under a transparent plastic bag in the greenhouse.

I discovered an organic recipe for a whitefly deterrant. 

1 tablespoon liquid soap
1 cup cooking oil

Add 1-2.5 tsp of the mixture to 1 cup of water and spray every 10 days. 

I guestimated the amounts and heartily sprayed my French lobelia, chamomile and wild thyme plants.  If they've survived the journey from France, a little bit of white fly is not going to be their nemesis. 

La fuetza majeur

I think at the moment my feelings must be very much in line with those of the natural world.  I have the urge to start the growing process, to plough a furrow and plant seed, but this is tempered and toyed with by the totally wayward nature of the weather. 

It's a new moon, today is sunny, but yesterday it was snowing and so cold that I needed two quilts on my bed.  I have an unheated greenhouse, as there is no power in the allotments, so it is really too early to plant seeds.  I know I have to go with the flow, and return to preparatory tasks like cleaning spaces, sharpening tools and strengthening boundaries, but it is a very confusing, adolescent kind of feeling. 

White fly, dark heart

Today I discovered white fly in the heated propagator.  They had been hibernating in my pot of French plants, originally cuttings that I brought back from a visit to Chatel and Chalon a couple of summers ago.  They had made a special home of my prized Tres Glam Lobelia, which I had been determined to keep protected from frost. 

The heated propagator doesn't have a lid, so I've been covering the plants with bubble wrap.  I know from experience that bubble wrap is a magnet for white fly.  My Dad will never use it again after his greenhouse suffered a severe infestation as a result of him following advice and lining it with bubble wrap one winter.  I was most surprised to see Monty Don recommending the very same practice to the innocent nation a couple of seasons ago. 

I think I might not be very popular with my Dad if I have caused yet another whitefly plague in his greenhouse.  Luckily I know they've only been there a day, and I've now removed the lobelia and treated it and the poor chilli seedlings with soapy water.  The seedlings were already wilting from the strain of the whitefly.  I think I better leave the greenhouse door open today to give it a bit of an airing, and remove bubblewrap.

An embarrassment of seeds

I got carried away last summer.  There was a huge basket of discounted seed packets in my local hardware shop. They were 25p each!  I can't resist a bargain, and bought about thirty packets in the end.  I knew it was unwise at the time, but there were so many things I had been coveting - orange thyme, cerynthe, black pansies, ornamental gourds, etc etc. 

So now my greed has caught up with me, and I am faced with the Herculean task of planting 30 varieties of seeds.  I have decided the best way is by dividing seed trays into three.  I certainly have a fair few seeds to swap at the next seed swap meeting. 

Vermin

The major challenge last year came from the Vermin.  I now know my enemies, and they are primarily, muntjak, badgers, squirrels, pigeons, rabbits and mice.  I would love to live in harmony with them, but they seem to have other ideas.  Perhaps they have more of a claim on the land, as they depend on it for survival, whereas compared to them I am a Marie Antoinette, just playing at life in the wild.  However, it is not a good idea to break the limbs of apple trees in order to obey the demands of your stomach, whether you are human or another species.  Here is a list of crimes, and the perpetrator, and my actions so far

Unreparable damage to apple trees - Muntjak.
Have removed broken limbs of tree.

Unprovoked attack on nesting birds and their young, destruction of nesting box - Unknown, suspect magpie or red kite.
Have removed nesting box.  Won't be putting another one up.

Repeated overnight total consumption of organic slug pellets - strongly suspect pigeons, having seen evidence in droppings, possibly mice as well.
I now only use these under nets.  I have bought a double tier rainbow windmill from Poundland in the hope it will scare the pigeons, but I doubt it will work for long. 

Decimation of pea crop, twice.  Mice, possibly pigeons.
Will try pea sticks this year.

Decimation of strawberry popcorn crop, once was enough.  Badgers.
Will grow plants in pots amongst squash for space saving, then remove to greenhouse when the cobs ripen.

Damage to dwarf French beans. Could be any or all of them, most likely rabbits, slugs, mice. 

Consumption of all new growth and leaves on echinacea just a few days after I'd planted it.  Rabbit, specifically the one looking at me in a brazen manner from underneath the tiny shed a couple of days later.   I know who you are you have been warned. 

Removal of new growth on rose and resulting inhibition of growth.  Muntjak.

The Muntjak and the Badgers ingress through the weak fence on one side of my plot.  The chicken wire bows in a melancholic fatigued manner where the deer leep over, and there is a similar area in the corner where the badger gets in.  This year a major project is to strengthen this boundary before I plant anything in the ground.  It will take tall wooden posts, the roll of chicken wire I knew I was saving for something, and the cultivation of a prickly hedge.  I intend to try and practice some hedgelaying once it is mature enough.  I already have some berberis cuttings developing, and hope to introduce blackthorn and hawthorn there too.  The only problem is they might leach a fair bit of moisture out of the soil, which won't be good for the crops.  I think I'll strengthen the chicken wire first and see how effective it is. 

I think the destruction of the strawberry popcorn, along with the wanton vandalism of the apple tree, were the most upsetting incidents.  In the case of the popcorn the little blighters lulled me into a false sense of security, as they left the plants alone until the cobs were just beginning to ripen, then they raised the lot to the ground.  It was like a massacre, and it was particularly heartrending because I had just been admiring the plants the day before.  The sun was shining on the silk on the cobs, and the long slender leaves were making beautiful rippling wave forms in the breeze. 

I am hoping that the baby blue tits survived.  They were just about to fledge, which I know is the time that Magpies go for them.  It was quite bizzare, because one morning I discovered the bird box neatly placed on the chair.  It was as if someone had put it there, but I asked around and nobody had.  It must have just neatly fallen from the side of the shed, avoiding any damage to the ceramic lady underneath it.  When I looked inside there was a beautifully made nest of moss and feathers with not a speck of dirt on it, and there was a very frightened blue tit cowering in one corner.  I placed the box in the hanging basket to let her recover in a safe space.  I think she must have done because later on there was no trace of her, just the beautiful nest. 

So this year it's personal.  I may not depend totally on my plots for survival, but I put a lot of time, money and energy into them, and that deserves respect.  I may have to call in a favour from someone....

Unexpected finds

I love foraging.  I especially love foraging with a particular thing in mind, and in the process finding something completely different that you needed just as much.  That is what happened today.  I have been wanting to patch the hole in the fence between me and the new neighbour for a while now, but it's been difficult to find a piece of chicken wire the right size.  My new neighbour has several pieces that would fit well, but he didn't respond to my email about them, and I don't want to start hostilities by just taking it anyway. 

Today I went on a foraging expedition to find some chicken wire elsewhere.  The wire gate of my mate Pete's disused allotment was left open invitingly, so it would have been rude not to go in.  I didn't find any chicken wire, but I was delighted to find a beautiful terracotta pot, sturdy and with a good green patina.  It was exactly the right size to contain my blueberry plant.  I had borrowed one of my Dad's ornamental pots for it, but didn't like to bury it in the earth, and I felt it looked a bit precarious just perched in the fruit area, its roots exposed to the cold through the clay.  Blueberries need ericaceous compost, and a way of keeping their roots in it is to plant them in a pot in the earth. My soil might be acid enough for them, but I want to make sure they thrive. 

So I fell on this pot of Pete's, and hurriedly squirrelled it away to Smallotment, where I immediately filled it with the blueberry.  I know Pete won't mind, as he's said I can take anything I want.  Allotmenteering has proved too much for him, and he's turned his attention to his garden instead. 

I won't dig the hole for the blueberry until I'm sure I know where to put it, and that depends on where I put the two blackcurrants which I haven't bought yet.  Instead I dug a hole for the small cranberry plant which arrived in the post today.  It is quite small but has a good root system and healthy new growth.

In the process I found a small piece of blue china.  I'm a bit obsessed with these pieces of china I occasionally dig out of the ground in the allotments.  I wonder if someone had a massive tea party there once that got a bit wild.  Maybe the rabbits invited the badgers round, and that would only have led to chaos.  Anyway, it's like treasure to me, and I gleefully clean it up and place it around the earth in the ornamental pots around the allotment.  Today I found not one but two pieces.  The other one was just sticking out of the ground like a shark fin in the herb area.

Before leaving I thought I would go on a foraging tour in another attempt to find the chicken wire, and imagine my delight when I found a piece the perfect size in the scrap metal area at the very end of the allotments.  It was a bit bent up and coated with old leaves, but I could tell it was perfect.  So I've straightened it out and its all ready to tie in, once I've replaced the rotten fence post.

Just as I was leaving I saw the barn owl gliding softly through the cold air, on the prowl for vermin.  It is such a radiant thing, and to see it always feels magical.  It's only the second time.  My first encounter with it was so close that I could feel the breeze from its wings as it flew past my head from behind me, and it was so surpising it took my breath away.  

So today has been a day for the unexpected in the allotments.  I wonder what tomorrow will bring.

Fruity

One of my current (currant) projects is the creation of an area for fruit in the small allotment, or Smallottment as it is affectionately known. 

I plan to make a frame out of willow so I can net the whole area and protect it from birds and other wayward virmin, which is a strong presence in the allotments. 

I had a green gooseberry in the long allotment that would bravely develop about 4 fruit each year, only to have them eaten by the wildlife before they were ripe.  There is an area at the side of the greenhouse which does have partial shade, so it was the ideal place to establish a fruit garden.  My soil is on the acidic side, so it is ideal. 

I checked by doing the vinegar and bicarb test, which is free, whereas the shop testing kits are extortionately expensive.  All you do is fill two small, preferably transparent containers with water and add vinegar to one and bicarb to another.  Then add a small quantity of your earth.  If you see bubbles fizzing off the earth in the one with bicarb you have acidic soil, and if you see them in the one with vinegar in you have alkaline soil.  The amount of bubbles is an indication of how acidic or alkaline it is.  Maybe not as accurate as the shop bought ones, but I like it all the more for that.

I transplanted the gooseberry successfully in the autumn, and just recently transplanted two redcurrants that were well developed suckers in my Dad's fruit cage.  This meant that I had to rethink the whole fruit area design, as I had to choose between the strawberry beds I had created there in the spring last year or currants.  The strawberries in these beds had experienced a similar lifestyle to the ones in the long allotment, as I salvaged them from the grave like raised beds that I inherited when I took the plot on.  They certainly softened the macabre look of the beds, but it was no place for a healthy strawberry.  They were compacted and wayward, so I brought them to order beside the greenhouse. 

However, currants need protection from wildlife more than strawberries in my experience.  It seems the chief consumers of strawberries in my plots are slugs and perhaps the occasional squirrel.  I'm going to experiment with a border of furry leaved plants around the bed, as this fur is spines to slugs.  I think woolly thyme would be the best, but I may have to resort to lambs ears while it develops.  Lambs ears work well but they spread voraciously. 

I felt rather bad as I put spade to earth yet again and gave some of the plants a temporary home in the wheelbarrow.  However, they will have a new home similar to the strawberry bed in the long allotment.  It will be in front of the greenhouse and will be divided by a cross so I can access the cold frame easily.  It will mean transplanting the chamomile I grew there last year, but I have a much better purpose for that; as a path in my herb area. 

I've had to leave the strawberries languishing in the barrow for a few days, because it has been horribly wet and at times snowy.  They look quite happy though.

Strawberry nirvana

A major project last year was the creation of a permanent home for my strawberries in the long allotment.  The poor things have had to get used to a nomadic lifestyle, as I've moved them from one place to another in my attempt to bring order to the vegetables.  When I moved them in the full sun the first summer they bravely struggled on and even continued to flower, and when I moved them again in the following spring they seemed to relish the challenge, and once again refused to lose flower or fruit.  They even seemed to thrive on it, as my strawberries last year were prolific and succulent, when many other plotholders had a disappointing crop. 

I felt it only fair to create a permanent home for them, so in the autumn last year I moved the struggling asparagus and created a permanent home for that in my small allotment, where it wouldn't get molested by the strimmer.  I then devoted the free bed in my long allotment to the world of the strawberry.  It is a well drained bed, I think because it is rather near the aspen tree, and it gets full sun all year. 

I divided it into four with a cross shaped path.  They're becoming a bit of a feature, as both my plots seem to be developing potager tendencies.  I hope they're not getting delusions of grandeur, because they're not in the right place for it. 

I transplanted the strawberries easily into this area and gave them lots of chicken manure and bonemeal.  The cross structure enhances their beauty somehow, and makes it easy to maintain them. 

I wonder what the crop will be like this year. 

A firm hand

Last year I experimented with a new bedding layout, having just two long beds extending across my long allotment with a path between them. I had previously a series of narrow beds facing south. They were easy to manage, but it was impossible keeping the weeds down on the numerous paths separating them.

I wanted a flowing organic feel in the allotment with everything growing freely in an unstructured manner. The two long beds certainly gave me that, but they had their own problems. The first was the constantly varying width, so at times there was just one path dividing them, and at other times there were two, and even then some of the beds were too wide to be managed easily.

I ended up totally giving up on weed management, so much so that on Google Earth it looks like half of the plot has been given over entirely to grass. Rather embarrassing.

So I've learnt the hard way that vegetables need structure, rather like small children.  This year I'm going to be slightly more firm.  I'm going to divide the very wide far side of the growing area into four with a path in the form of a cross.  I think I may recreate the narrow south facing beds in the centre of the plot, but I don't really want to lose the flowing feeling of just the two beds.  I can't really afford bark for the many paths I will create, and there's no way I'm going to turn them into grass.  I'm sure the answer will gradually unfold, as that is the way of my allotments. 

Keep calm and carry on digging

I've decided to start writing in this blog again.  For a while I felt the need to keep my allotment to myself, as it is a place for personal reflection and healing and I felt perhaps it was unwise to share something like that with the world.  I am aware that there is both good and bad out there surfing the internet; however I now feel strong enough to deal with that, and my allotment is more than capable of looking after itself.