Glut and gluttony

How our mediaeval ancestors survived to breed us is a miracle. What did they live on between February and June? Without freezers? If you were poor with just a strip of land? OK, I know some of the answers, but it's only when you make a real attempt at veg self-sufficiency that the challenge of feeding a family on a small plot becomes apparent. Yes, we've been picking leaves and lifting the odd potato plant, but it's only in this past fortnight that serious quantities of food have been forthcoming. The glut is here - all at once as usual and despite some attempts at succession sowing. We should be freezing/bottling/pickling etc. but it's more straightforward to give it away to family, staff and travelling monks, if you can find one.

The most enticing form of storage right now seems to be body fat. Current crops in abundance are peas, broad beans, new potatoes (big ones now), garlic, beetroot, spinach and all types of salad leaves. Dave's especially keen on 'Rebekah's Hot Mix', but I think that's straight word association. We don't eat that many potatoes as a rule, but Charlottes, an hour out of the ground, with warm lemony olive oil and chives are hopelessly moorish. How can they possibly be bad for you? Well they aren't - not with my calorific needs. Dave has a new pedometer and in common with most people who must drive to the office and sit down for much of the day, he finds it hard to get to the recommended 10,000 steps. I've yet to borrow it, but I believe I would blow the target away by lunchtime. I almost never sit down, spend my days inefficiently perambulating between overlapping tasks and am permanently starving as a result. Sweet new spuds are just the thing.

Some of the peas make it to dinner time - more get eaten fresh from the pod in passing. Same goes for the strawberries, except that the blackbirds are getting more than their fair share. The string of old CDs twinkling above them has largely failed to work as a bird scarer, despite most of them being old Inland Revenue PAYE update disks. Enough to scare anyone, you would think! Still, a few strawberries are a fair reward for eating all our slugs, I think.

Elsewhere the garden smells divine with honeysuckle dripping from trees and pergolas and the spicy clove scent of pinks slipping tantalisingly down the nursery. It all looks good too. We got a nice mention on North West Tonight as 'a hidden gem with homemade tea and cakes' by the lovely Diane Oxenbury. (But for real weather forecasting afficionados, Eno Eruator is the one. She looked cracking tonight in a bright blue basque and pink skirt. But what about the shoes, Eno? Show us your shoes!)

I've been rubbish at posting pictures lately, but I took a couple tonight. I planted out a random selection of Dieramas last year in the new beds. Delightfully, some have turned out to be white. They look divine against the blue Nepeta and the dark green yew hedge.

And I do like this combination of Lychnis coronaria and Geranium 'Orion'.

And the year turns...

Midsummer, that magical point in late June where the days are as long as they can be and the second half of the year begins. It's a turning point for gardeners too, biennials like Foxgloves and Wallflowers can be sown now and won't bolt, Fennel and Pak Choi too. Weed germination noticeably slows down, thankfully. Flowering kicks off apace and the early predominance of genteel pinks and blues makes way for the hotter reds and oranges of late summer. The first buds of Crocosmia Lucifer are just emerging above its spear-like foliage and there is a definite hint of orange as the tips of the Helenium petals begin to unfurl.

And tonight is a perfect June night. Absolutely still and clear, silent except for the piercing trill of a song thrush poised at the tip of the tall conifer. The tree's dark bulk is sharply outlined against the smudge of turquiose sky to the north which also makes a perfect backdrop for watching bats cavorting high above the lawn. Dave's outside now with the bat detector, matching frequencies to swooping shapes against the pale sky. We've picked up three types so far.

Isabelle and I went on a plant hunting spree for Tatton Show which proved productive and reassuring. It all starts in three weeks - which is a bit nerve wracking given how much else I need to fit in beforehand.

Gnman - thanks for the reassurance. June marks the end of a frenetic 5 month marathon for nurseries of propagating, potting, labelling, feeding, labelling, advising and selling plants. Tatton Show slots onto the end of this, demanding a sprint finish to the season which all but does me in. But then, like bears, we get to slow down in winter, think, dream and have the place to ourselves. Overall, it's a wonderful way to live.

White nights, blazing days

In winter I crave more daylight, staying outside until it's too dark to see. So June should be a joyous month for me, but I feel an odd sense of overload. It's still light at 10pm and the sun rises at 4.30am. My brain shuts down with the sun, so a touch of hyperactivity and insomnia has struck me, leaving me feeling permanently sleepy. The chickens are similarly affected, not wanting to roost until it gets dark and demanding to be let out when the sun strikes their hen house. The cats are at it too, leaping on our bed at 5am nudging for attention and breakfast. I'm perpetually knackered.

But the days, the glorious, glittering June days. The meadow shimmers in waves of golden buttercups underswept with a warm haze of purple clover. Look more closely and the yellows separate into the lemon yellow of yellow rattle, and the bright yellow birdsfoot trefoil. Patches of lighter blue reveal meadow cranesbill or vetch. And the most observant will spot deeper purple spots of meadow orchid. We are lucky to have it - and it is lucky to have us. It's not ancient, so it's not protected, but it is precious and treasured.

All six chicks are doing fine - no fatalities since hatching which we are quite chuffed about. Not sure yet how many hens/cockerels we've got. But watching their behaviour I'm going to say I think it's 5 cockerels and 1 hen :-(

Pics to follow tomorrow - too late now to faff about uploading them.....

Blogging from the hairdressers.....

First time in weeks I've had to sit still for a whole hour! I've read OK mag (5mins) and helped my hairdresser choose some new plants and still got half an hour to kill. Let's see how long the battery lasts...

Top topic is the chickens, of course. The chicks were 4 weeks old at the weekend and right on cue the mother hen started laying again. We've missed her beautiful dark brown eggs. The chicks are getting more adventurous and now fly out onto the main pen during the day. They get an occasional nip from the other hens, but they come to no harm. Last night we got the chicks into their own coop and the hen into the main hen house for the first time. Remember getting your kids to sleep in their own bed on their own? Yep, a bit like that, except there were six to get in together. It was a long hour of two in, one out, five in three out, but we got there.

The doomed chicken has now survived 5 months on death row, longer than most supermarket chickens live from hatch to table. I'm beginning to think I should do the deed myself since DB hasn't quite found the right moment yet. Question - as a veggie for 25 years, would it be unethical not to eat my own chicken? Arguably better to eat than throw it away, say. We can't/ don't want to keep her because she lays malformed eggs and won't use the nest boxes, laying her eggs outside and attracting vermin. Logically, the only sensible thing to do is have her for dinner?

The hot spell last week put me and the plants under pressure - endless watering and perpetual mild sunstroke. I got most of the new exotic garden planted up and the heavy rain since has done the world of good. Tomorrow I'm running the second of my three propagation workshops which are proving hugely popular - all sold out, I'm afraid. Then it's into Tatton Show and cramming for my final two RHS diploma exams in July. So one must blog whilst one can, even at the hairdressers!

HPS decode anyone?

I received my 20 seed packets from the Hardy Plant Society earlier this year, but instead of names, the packets were numbered, presumably with the catalogue number. I've sown them, and most have germinated, but I have no idea what any of them are. Does anyoneout there have a copy of the list and can identify my seedlings for me?

The codes I have are:
434
382
583
75
205
1219
314
1050
1095
588
445
1172
101

Thanks!

Chelsea pics and thoughts...

I've been asked several times what I made of Chelsea this year. I've tried and failed to distill my perceptions to a pithy soundbite so here are a few odd thoughts and pictures instead.

Purple and claret is the combination of the moment.


The very posh Laurent garden looked a little dated to me - somehow jarringly grandiose.



The Cancer Research garden was truly stunning. Beautifully executed, gorgeous curves and green, understated planting. I wonder if the Rhus typhinus cost it a gold? Just checked the RHS website and it got the People's Choice - rightly so.



One bold, fearsomely expensive, wildly imaginative, exquisitely executed, utterly impractical garden. I overhead the designer saying there was no budget, he just did a design and the sponsor told him to go ahead.


I admired, but was oddly unmoved by the Perfumed Garden. They seemed rather pleased with their idea and were busy spraying all and sundry with Bess's perfume. The planting seemed a bit skinny in places (and I saw a pot rim...) Funny - it looks better in the photos!


This was the overall winner. I only saw it once as the crowds were too deep (and meaningful..). It was superb, but the Cancer Research garden held my attention and admiration better.


So what of the smaller gardens?
I nearly walked past the Eco Chic garden, it was so understated. But the more I looked the more I saw. And the more I saw the more I liked. And then I found it had won best in show.


No missing this one! How refreshing to see something a bit alternative at Chelsea.


I loved Nature Ascending. See how she's used long grass around the edge instead of the usual neat turf? And those knitted pouffe/stool things...

The Fenchurch garden stood out with its billowing, curvy forms, presumably cast out of concrete or something. Original, and successful. This one got the most creative award and very well deserved.

And the Plasticine Garden of course which won the People's Choice in the small gardens by a mile, apparently.

That'll have to do for the gardens. Summing up? The best of it was more human, less arch, less po-faced, more curvy, more imaginative. A bit less of it than in previous years, but no so as you would notice.

Live from Chelsea!

A sharp shower has sent me scurrying for cover and coffee and a welcome chance to blog. Chelsea is as classy as ever - I'm surrounded by well-dressed women and listening to a constant sound track of flettened vowels - but there's a welcome sense of self-awareness and humour. The banker's garden, with its monopoly figurine car and dice made me smile as did the offshore garden with it's moat and model yacht. My personal favourites so far are 'Nature ascending' and Eco chic' which won best in show in the small category.

I'm guessing the perfume garden won best in show. I'm opposite it now and it is impressive, with it's bubbling cauldron sculpture at it's heart. It's a superb concept, though the garden itself leaves me unmoved, oddly.

I think the best planting I've seen is on the Cancer Research garden, but they only got a silver-gilt. My guess is that the Rhus typhinus let them down.

JAS is opposite me, chatting on his mobile phone. Shall I introduce myself? No, it's not the thing, is it? Thought he was great on the coverage last night. See, I said he was box office!

Off to the floral marqee now. More later.....

Update: what a strange new world we are in. The bandstand conductor has just turned to the audience, resplendent in his red livery, shoes gleaming with polish, and announced that the Speaker has resigned. He received a genteel, approving round of applause before picking up his baton and leading a spot of Sinatra. Surely a riot is in order, now that we are in anarchy? I think I need a Pimm's....