Ariadne

I have been on a bit of a journey with my nets lately.  I'm experimenting with rubble netting, which you can buy very inexpensively from ebay or builder's yards.  It doesn't significantly cut out the light, but the mesh is small enough to prevent ingress by small insects and slugs.  It will also prevent the sycamore seedlings from falling into the earth. 

For plants that need pollination by insects you need to take the net off when the plants begin to flower, or replace with bird netting.  I intend to replace with bird netting, as knowing my luck the minute I expose my precious plants they will be devoured by all the wildlife in the vicinity. 

I bought two metre wide netting, but discovered the hard way it wasn't wide enough for the hoops of plastic tubing I have created.  I love the effect these hoops give of gentle undulation across my plot.  My Dad tells me it was a method first introduced by the late great Geoff Hamilton, bless his heart.  Eventually I plan to create my own hoops out of willow, but that is for another post. 

I fought with the net and pinned it down against its will, only to find the tension created little arch shaped gaps of the perfect size for rabbits to hop through.  I weighed the sides down with compost, but knew I had to buy wider net long term for the plants that need a good height undercover. 

I now have 3 metre wide netting, which is the perfect width, leaving enough net at the sides to form a barrier.  I have experimented by weighing the sides down with pine chippings.  I don't know if this will encourage mice to borrow in, and then burrow further under the net.  Time will tell. 

The pine chippings have a smell which will cover up the smell of tasty vegetables, so I'm hoping they will act as a deterant.  Apparantly deer are repelled by the essential oils in plants like lavender, so perhaps the pine oil will do the same thing.  I realized when I applied the chippings how well they would work as coverings for the pathways, so that will be my next job.

I spent a happy morning planting out my broad beans, secure in the knowledge that they would be well protected.  I have already placed stakes next to each plant, so they can be tied for support when they get tall enough. 

Darkness is food for light

I often find that once I accept that something has failed, I am filled with new inspiration about what I can do instead.  This was the case with the Maris Widgeon disaster.  I wonder now if mice were the culprits.  I discovered that heavy rain had dislodged the grains in my test sowing in the garden at home, so they were exposed.  It would be easy for mice to quickly polish them off, and be encouraged to dig for others under the soil. 

I've now placed the tray in the greenhouse for extra protection, as it's still cold enough in there.  I am determined to grow this wheat.  I feel a kind of responsibility, as it is becoming rare, and is a traditional variety that deserves to survive. 

So now I have a large area of soil with nothing growing in it.  What an excellent opportunity to have a massive bonfire.  Nothing better to cleanse the space, which still has an unsettling, spirit dulling quality about it. 

It may simply be to do with the shadow cast by my small shed, now reinforced by the large shed behind it in the neighbour's plot.  In terms of Feng Shui, these structures are blocking the flow of energy.  I would reposition my shed, but it wouldn't remedy anything now the other shed is behind it, blocking the light from the south.  It is not something I have the power to change, so I have to work around it, and do as much space clearing as I can. 

There are some branches that need to come off the aspen neighbouring my long allotment.  It is a beautiful tree, and I feel is a kind of guardian for me and my land, but it is leaning too far into the plot, so it is shading the areas where I grow things.  It always amazes me how massive branches are when they are on the ground, compared to how they looked when up on the tree.  The would-be wheat field will be the ideal place to burn what I don't repurpose from this trimming, plus a lot of the old wood I still have in my shack. 

In fact, the whole shack needs burning to be very brutal.  It is appropriate to be so at this time, when new life is forcing its way through the old.  It is rotting and gradually more and more of it is falling off.  It still has its quiet protective spirit though, so I can't really bear to part with it.  Maybe I'll just adopt a Japanese perspective.  When they build a new building to replace an old one, and that building is exactly the same, they do not consider it to be a new building at all. 

The failure of the wheat also means I now have an opportunity to experiment with other spring sown grains.  I am interested in growing quinoa and amaranth, and there is spring triticale and rye if I can organize sourcing it in time.  I won't cover any of the area in black plastic that's for sure, but if necessary will use Phaecelia as green manure.  It is such a pretty blue flower, and forms a dense cover very quickly. 

Catch me in your net

After what seems like a long time of hiding away from the cold and mud, I feel I have reconnected with my plots again today.  It was sunny for most of the day, and even though it was cold and windy I was inspired to move things forwards on my land. 

I have been battling all winter with my  new netting arrangements.  I have in the past made arcs of plastic hose and draped the net over it.  This was very pleasing to the eye, as it created gentle undulating curves, however it seemed not very practical for tall plants, as the sloping sides crushed them together. 

I decided on a new arrangement, which was to make a 1 metre high fence all around each bed, secured by bamboo canes and rubber cane toppers.  I  bought some two metre wide rubble netting, which was the perfect width for the curved net arrangement.  However, I threw caution to the wind and cut it in half width wise, and created the fence.   It was easier to tend the beds, as they were open at the top this way, but there was nothing to prevent the sycamore seedlings covering the soil. 

The first reasonably strong wind made me see the true error of my ways, as it set up a ripple effect in the netting, so the canes were pushed over and the toppers were forced off.  I tried various ways of supporting the canes with bricks, but nothing worked.  I'm sure I'll be finding lost cane toppers in the grass for the next year or so. 

Today I had to face two hard facts.  The first was that my wheat crop had definitely failed, and the second was I had to put the rippling netting out of its misery. 

It was with a happy heart that I took all the nets down and made some arcs of plastic hose again.  They looked so much more sturdy, and were not at all affected by the wind.  I was full of remorse over cutting the netting, and it was a tedious job sewing the two widths back together again with string.  I roughly pinned it over the arc supports and immediately realized that they would have to be hammered down a bit, and I would have to replace the string with machine sewn seams, as the whole creation looked like some kind of monstrous poorly fitting corset. 

I wondered how the crops would like it under those protective arches, and realized that perhaps the sloping sides would give added support to things like broad beans. 

I came back home and found this image on my Twitter, courtesy of @DamienKempf:

It is a medieval illumination depicting a woman catching her lover.  It reminded me of the process I had gone through today, and made me wonder what I will find in my vegetable beds as a result of it!

the fragrance of green, the colour of song

I imagined I could smell chlorophyll this morning.  It was rather surprising, as I was inside at the time.  Well, Imbolc has passed, and there are emerald and carmine buds swelling on the old grey brown growth of last year. 

The phantom fragrance momentarily brought me to a season of colour, purity and optimisim, and in that moment I became what I could sense.  It was like a tiny little holiday.   I'm finding the winter particularly long and heavy this year.  I am keeping positive by making candles and nurturing seedlings, as if I am tending the first little sparks of the year, encouraging them to burst into flame.