3 - Mediterranean

 Smug in the face of climate change in my delta, I had my sunshade right, bring it on, in Spring 2019 I filled my garden with plants that should be able to cope better with the weather. The sickly Lonicera seemed to have perked up a bit, so I told it to hang on and dragged, pushed and shoved its trellis planter to the most shady corner. That means shade until mid-morning, sun thereafter. I put Nasturtium seeds at its feet for company. And rigged a line between a teepee and the rainpipe for my runner bean to climb. I could already taste the fresh beans, love them. Fired by the urge to grow some more veg, I sowed salad greens, got a tomato and a chilli plant and begged one of my friend's strawberries off him. Along with the herbs that had done very well and a variety of Pelargoniums in the railing planters, my garden looked very different from the first year. I was tempted to get a Musa...better not, that ever blowing wind, eh?

Puck and I installed ourselves on a lounger with book, beer, bone and a bowl of water and watched the veg grow. Every afternoon the jackdaws from the roost at the end of the street would line up on the edge of the roof opposite and stare at us. Puck would stare right back, she's very protective. Swifts swooped, a cuckoo called in the distance, the occasional screeching ringneck parakeet flew past, the slugs held war councils amongst themselves and the bees for some reason lacked.

That previous windstill scorching summer, I had had plenty of bees, hoverflies, wasps, houseflies and, darn it, mosquitoes. So what had happened? Well, there was the wind. We had extreme amounts of wind in 2019. And my Mediterranean collection didn't attract a lot of bees for some reason. In fact, my entire harvest of runner beans, non pollinated, consisted of 1 beautiful bean. Puck and I shared it ceremoniously and pronounced it delicious.

The Nasturtiums did very well, climbing the trellis, and trailing elegantly over the edge of the planter. But the Honeysuckle again dropped all its buds and most of its leaves. Then an unprecedented Summer gale struck. It whipped my Roses, tore off their leaves, gave the Pelargoniums a good shaking, threw over the Fatsia and tomato and made my tiny side table sail away. It landed three floors down and 10 m away at 3 cm from the fender of a Lexus. Some very posh neighbours here. For some reason this particular one was not amused. He screamed at me that I am an irresponsible nutty plantgeek. It sounds even worse in Dutch. So rude!

Okay, I did take better care of storm damage prevention after that. My roses recovered, I was so happy they did. And there was another, very unexpected, little success. When I arrived in this street in June 2018 there were no plants on the balconies. Some folk had artistic Buddhas, most had expensive lounge sets, and there were plastic lavenders and grasses dotted here and there (no doubt weighted down with heavy rocks). But nothing green and alive. Until I noticed in 2019 that on one of the balconies a miniature olive tree appeared (clashing somewhat with that Buddha) and look, on another a couple of tasteful clipped buxus balls. One family even went wild and put two mini palm trees on, hung with solar lights. Not outdone, the man in the flat opposite put down a cheerful planter full of geraniums and sat next to it every evening,  smoking and calling Poland.

See, my darling, I told Puck. Even a drop of water can eventually wear down a rock. All we have to do is show them how lovely real plants are. Puck agreed. She always does, good girl.

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#mediterranean #balconygarden #thedutchdeltagardener #dogs #gales #spreadnaturelove #slowgreen

2 - Slugs

 Having practically melted myself, and losing half of my cottage plants to the cruel sun, made me reflect on the wisdom of sticking to my favourites. It also made me order an electric dropdown sunshade, almost crippling myself by the cost. But hey, I can make it whizz down from inside the flat, nifty! 

I dug up the sad remnants of the plants that didn't survive the summer sun and high winds on the balcony, and got ready for Winter by planting loads of bulbs in the newly empty planters. And then I started to research. Do you? Or are you the type of gardener that plonks in plants anyhow and anywhere? I used to be the type of gardener that falls in love with highly unsuitable plants and then repents at leisure (with people too, now that I think of it. Well, at least I am consistent). But no more! Nope! From then on, only plants suited to my pseudo clifftop garden (think galeforce winds, lashing rain, scorching sun) would be welcome.

My reading pointed me to Mediterranean plants. So by April I got me a Canna edulis, a blood red one. And a Convolvulus cneorum. The Papaver somniferum looked promising. Roses, both a tea rose hybrid and floribunda, 'cause the old rose had lived. A Tagetes spatula, couldn't hurt. And then I lost my head and also got some Nigella damascena,  Dianthus chinensis, a Buddleia davidii and a Runner Bean. Why? See above:...falls in love with...etcetera.  

Remember I had planted bulbs in November? I had bought bio soil for that, as is my habit. One morning in April, the rising sun was just reflected by the window of the flat opposite, I noticed some strange cut up shoelace type things on my windows. My newly rescued dog Puck and I went to investigate. Puck was the first to suss out the things weren't edible, I just stared in disbelief.  Baby Slugs? How? I garden three floors up! Surely they hadn't climbed the wall en masse, like slimy demented mountaineers? No. They had not, they had travelled very comfortably with the expensive organic soil in the bags. I found slug embryos in every planter I had. I plucked them from the windows, dug them from the soil, picked them from my plants, shook them out of my shoes and battled them for the rest of that year.

 So I started to feed the birds, hoping they would use the slugs as dessert. Like Puck, they thought slugs beneath them, and went for the sunflower seeds instead. I tried beer traps, then thought better of that and drank the beer myself before my darling doggie could develop an alcohol habit. In the end, I gave up and lived with slugs.

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#thedutchdeltagardener #slugs #dogs #gardening #gardeningistherapy #gardenista #plantaholic #myhappyplace

 When you are interested in my art, you can take a look at Instagram, @grashoffr and there's also an Insta page for my balcony garden there @songsmith2962 where you'll find lots of photos, both old and recent, of my garden.

1 - New beginning.

 A tiny but cherished balcony garden, or rather the idea of it, was what persuaded me to buy the tiny apartment in the famous mediaeval town of Brielle, on the isle of Voorne. 

Yes, when you live in the delta of a delta, you live on an island, naturally. Voorne is made an island by the North Sea, the Voorns Kanaal and the river Brielse Maas. Except some planning nitwits thought to put a dam in a perfectly good river, 'great for tourism' and thus turned it into a 'lake', the Brielse Meer, and oh my what an utterly stupid idea that was. It turns this lake into a green sluggish smelly soup in summer, where it is unadvisable to swim because it gives you a rash, a headache and turns your intestines to mush.

Enough about nitwits, back to gardening. Having viewed my future garden on a dreary wet day in February, it was pleasantly warm June 2018 when I could finally move in and get gardening. I was told to mind the weight I put on the balcony, and that plants taller than 50 cm were not allowed. Also, no drilling in the walls! That did narrow down my options somewhat: the wildlife pond, and trellis full of climbers I had envisaged were not to be. I was stuck with planters. So I splashed out on some nifty Elho railing planters (a good investment, as they withstand gale force 9 without flying off onto the cars parked below - this has been proven at least 6 times in the last 3 years) and a totally useless trellis-on-a-wooden-planter (It's too small to be effective). And then I schlepped ten 20 l bags of soil to the 3rd floor and made blissful trips to every garden centre around for 30 km.

Having come from a cottage garden, I turned to my favourites. That first summer I planted: 

Althea rosea , Aster amellus, Bellis perennis, Ceanothus thyrsiflorus, Erica carnea and E. cinerea, Euonymus fortunei, Fatsia japonica, Festuca glauca, Fuchsias, Gladiolus blandus, Hosta undulata and H. fortunei, Hydrangea macrophylla and H. paniculata, Ilex aquifolium, Impatiens sultanii, Lavandula, Lobelia erinus, Lonicera tellmanniana , Petunia,  Rosa canina, Rosmarinus, Scabiosa, Verbena, Viola and a large selection of herbs (I like to cook). On a 3x4m balcony? Absolutely! The bees and hoverflies quickly found my garden and so did the birds. And my neighbours shook their heads, tut-tutted, pronounced me an idiot (secretly) and told me I would have to pay for damages when my garden landed on their cars downstairs (to my face). I could just fit a seat in between the pots and spent many a happy contented hour watching the swifts swooping over the roof of the block of flats opposite, and the seagulls roosting and rearing a chick on their chimney.  Books and beer on the balcony, life was sweet. And then a heatwave struck.

Dutch heatwaves typically last for 2 days. This one lasted 3 months. Around 11:30, the sun swept onto my garden and hammered my plants until sundown. Temperatures rose to 40 degrees, 38 degrees indoors. I could hear my garden shrivel up, even though I watered at 7 a.m. and again in the dark at night, being eaten alive by mosquitoes. Sleeping became difficult, for I needed the doors open for air at night, but legions of insects just loved my bedroom. 

The first to give up the ghost were the Fuschias. The Scabiosa, Verbena and Hydrangeas wilted during the day and stood upright in the morning, only to start to droop again after 2 p.m. The Honeysuckle dropped all its buds in protest. The gorgeous Daisy a friend brought as a housewarming gift screamed you must be joking and wilted within a fortnight. Thankfully the Roses and Lobelia did a bit better, and the Hostas and Fatsia clung to their dignity. But the real die hards turned out to be the herbs.  My Mint, Basil, Lavender, Parsley, Sage, Rosemary and Thyme thrived in that sun. I sang them the Simon & Garfunkel song every night when watering, that must have done the trick.

#thedutchdeltagardener #gardening #gardenblog #gardenblogger #gardeningistherapy #girlswhogarden #elho

The Dutch Delta Gardener - Introduction.

 Hi there, welcome to my garden blog.

Let me introduce myself, seeing we are strangers and this is my very first blogpost. My name is Renée and I am an enthusiastic gardener-against-all-odds in the Dutch Delta. I don't know how good you are at geography (if you are, skip to the next paragraph), but if you don't know where the Dutch Delta is situated, never mind. Us Dutchies are used to being misplaced as a part of Germany or a province of Denmark. My small country is in the West of Western Europe, opposite the UK only across the water, and the entire country is a delta. I live on a small island in the delta of that delta. #soggy. Still with me? Good.

Once upon a time, in a town not so very far away, there lived a woman who had a beautiful cottage garden. That garden was her pride and joy, her happy place, her sanctuary, but Life happened whilst she was busy planning where to put the Salvias, and she had to leave her piece of paradise.   

This woman is me. The large cottage paradise has turned into a 3x4m balcony groaning under plants. But what is it that those American self-help gurus always say, when life gives you lemons, you grow them on your tiny balcony? Well, not quite (yet), dear, but I certainly grow a lot of plants there, whilst on the waiting list for an allotment. My green thumbs cannot help but itch, and my green space, tiny as it may be, keeps me sane. (I'll tell you more about the link between sanity and gardening in a later post, promise)

So, what can you expect? Wild tales of battling the elements when you garden at height. Typical problems when you'd like certain plants but your garden faces SW and is always windy. The myth that slugs don't exist at 10m up. Visiting birds of prey that try to eat your songbirds. And lots about plants, plants, plants.

PS: due to thunderstorms which have been lashing my plants for over a week now, I had to dismantle the display and put them all on the floor, resulting in a mess. This happens only too frequently, I'm sad to say. But hey, won't it make a marvellous contrast when the sun is out and the display is as it should be?