2025/54 - Oldies but Goodies!

 Merry Christmas! And if you are of another part/inclination, happy holidays, happy weekend, happy life!

And a special 'great to see you!' to my readers in Hong Kong, Mexico and Singapore!

May it bring you all you desire. May it bring us all peace!

Us delta-dwellers being in the midst of bleak, grey winter, there is not a lot to mention about my gardens. So I decided to give you some highlights (with my never before published photos) of the five years I have now been gardening at my allotment.

By the way, Puck & I raided the bushes on our walkies late last night, to make you all a quicky wreath.

Very close to the entrance to the allotments is a 'sloot' with willows. This is in spring 2021. I frequently meet a barn owl along this narrow road in the early morning, when it swoops over our heads, scaring Puck.

The bare bones of Hunky Dory in May 2022. I had spent the winter months clearing all leftover potatoes and weeds from it (missing a few), laying the paths with woodchip and digging the frog pond. As soon as I put that white gravel down, I hated it! And I was taken aback and dismayed by the utter lack of invertebrates in my soil.

By September I had assembled two planters, to give the garden some much needed height, and the struggling plants some proper soil to grow in.

By April 2023 the perennial beds had filled out considerably, and I started spotting earthworms, millipedes, beetles and toads amongst the slugs.

By July I counted 5 different kinds of butterfly where before, in 2021, there had been none.

Part of my harvest in August 2023. Whatever they say, it DOES taste better!

My drumstick onions in all their glory in July 2024. I think they are such fun! And they last for ages. Mind you, by now (the tail end of 2025) they are disappearing a bit, I should plant some fresh bulbs. The Verbena Bonariensis seeds itself all over the place, from the batch of seedlings I planted out in the first year.

By August 2024 the woodchip paths had been changed to grass, and the perennials had really taken off. I chucked all the woodchip into the borders in early 2023, hoping the invertebrates (and plants) would thank me for it.

The same bed in October 2024. Already heading towards winter, but still quite interesting.

The other side of the garden, looking towards the road and my compost heaps, is where the Artichokes dominate. In 2025, due to the drought of more than 7 months, the flower heads were very small compared to previous years. So far this perennial bed has been quite a struggle. Most plants I put there, do not like it, but some thrive. Grasses, mostly! And that silver Pine on the left has taken it as its mission to grow a metre a year. It was sold to me as 'a dwarf species' ! Ha!

Before the summer storm blew them down to the ground this year. Mind you, I tied them up against the obelisk again, but they took a beating.

I do grow a varied crop of tomatoes each year, liking to experiment with types I haven't grown before. These are yellow zebras, lovely for salads but useless to cook with.

2025 was a terrible year for butterflies... But my scabiosa always attracts the ones that do show themselves.

Early morning last April, sunrise over the misty (river) Brielse Maas. The best time of day to my mind. Nobody out, just the birds, Puck and me. And the very occasional beaver.

And thus we are full circle to spring.

Have a lovely weekend, try to take some time to watch the birds, feel the wind and smell the flowers (if you have any near you).

Visit me at my website Renée Grashoff Schrijft

And do visit me here, you are very welcome!

Renée Grashoff 

2025/53 - Green Doorways of Brielle

 This will be my last blog of 2025...and what a year it has been! For me personally rather a good year, for my gardens a bewildering year and for a lot of you, my cherished readers, sometimes a very difficult year. Wars, droughts, floods, fires. Heavy stuff! So I thought to bring you something completely different, which I hope you will enjoy.

The historical centre of my hometown boasts quite a few green doorways.

Snow is extremely rare these days, so I could not skip this photo.

This is only a selection. I will collect some more in due course.

Right, this is the moment that I will wish you all the best for 2026 with one of my home-made cards! Let's hope it will be a good year, a peaceful year.

I will keep blogging, so do look me up in January '26, and at my website Renée Grashoff Schrijft, where you will stay up to date with my book publishing. I upload a monthly blog there.

Have a safe New Years Eve, and remember: should auld aquaintance be forgot? Of course not.

Take care!

Renée Grashoff 

2025/52 - Toadstools, Fungi, is it all a Mushroom to you?

 My neighbourhood boasts a lot of oak trees. And although built up as we are over here, the grass verges underneath those lovely trees are a treasure trove of toadstools and fungi. I don't claim to be very knowledgeable, I can tell the difference between an ordinary  mushroom, an oyster fungus and a shi-take, and that is about it. But I do enjoy spotting them, so there being a lack of gardening news, that is exactly what I have done for you.*

There are dozens of these curious looking 

Elfin saddle (Helvella crispa) underneath one oak. I am told by my book on fungi it is also called White saddle.

 At first I thought some silly bugger had dropped a load of crumpled tissues...

Anyway, very exotic looking, and to me very welcome!

Not a great photo, sorry!

This is a very common kind underneath our oaks. It is a Lactarius quietus, or milk cap mushroom. They sometimes form circles, what we call 'heksenkringen' (witches circles), and apparently some kinds are edible. But others are very poisonous...so would you take the risk? Not me!

Another find underneath the oaks is this one. It could be an oak gall?

At first I thought it was an Earthstar, but on second thought...no.

Those oaks were infested by the procession caterpillar some years ago, and the council hung up a load of bird boxes in the hope the tits would eat the caterpillars.

If I am correct, this is a family of Lycoperdon perlatum, or Warted Puffball. I took this photo in the Arboretum in Rucphen.

This huge willow hosts what we call 'elfenbankjes', a seat for elves. I believe these are Laetiporus sulphureus. The tree lives in Kralingse Bos in Rotterdam, where I took a walk last August. If I am correct, this is the famous chicken of the woods, and edible. But again, I would never take a bite out of an unknown fungus.

This belongs to the same family, often confused with the abovementioned,  but it is a Meripilus giganteum I found in the Hortus Botanicus in Leiden. A giant polypore. Aren't those colours amazing?! It was as large as a good sized tea tray.

These ones are called Peziza cerea I think. I found the cup fungus on a woodchip path very close to my house, and was quite chuffed, as I had never spotted them before.

* disclaimer

I am no expert! As I mentioned before, I can safely identify 3 edible kinds of mushroom, in the supermarket, and that is it. So please, do not take my word for the identification and never ever eat any of the fungi above. This blog is just for fun!

2025/51 - December Rains and Birds

 This post could also be titled December Mud. Take your pick. The fact is, us delta dwellers cannot see the one separated from the other. When it is dry here, we walk on soil turned to concrete even a pick axe has a hard time breaking. When it rains, we slog through mud up to our ankles.

Attuned as I am to the seasons, I aim for that window between concrete and mud to do my gardening. Some years I am lucky, and the window lasts for a couple of weeks. Other years it slams shut on me within days. The year 2025 will go down in my personal gardening history as 'practically impossible'.

In February 2025, usually the month my gardening year starts in earnest, my soil was okay for digging, except I had no digging planned, as I am a 'no-dig gardener'. That practise has turned my utterly depleted soil to one that boasts fungi and invertebrates again. Hurray! Instead, I sowed seeds in the greenhouse, ready for those seedlings to be planted out in April/May. Except, it never rained from the beginning of March onwards, and when I wanted to plant out the annuals and new perennials, I could not get a spade in the ground.

Okay, long story extremely short: it was a total failure, and took me waiting (and watering pots) until the end of October (!) before I could finally plant out the few surviving perennials. The annuals were dead by then.

And now it is December, and we have had weeks of heavy rain, and my soil has turned to mud. I did put some bulbs and those few survivors into the ground. And now I play a waiting game. Will they settle? Or rot?

Is it all doom and gloom then? No, of course not! I travelled (by bus) to Rotterdam yesterday, and saw to my immense joy a group of storks (Ciconia ciconia) perched on the motorway lights. One on every light mast, sitting relaxed high above the busy traffic, with one bewildered cormorant (Phalacrocorax carbo), no doubt asking himself what company he had landed himself in. A bit like myself having the same thought within a group of football supporters, I imagine.

If you have read some of my posts (or book, where jackdaws play a major role), it will come as no surprise to you that the sight of those large birds made my heart leap. I am not a proper twitcher, but I do enjoy watching birds. I imagine they had just flown in from Africa, and were now resting a bit before finding a nice more permanent perch.

In the area I live in, there is a nature reserve called Breede Water which hosts loads of cormorants, but also spoonbills (Platalea leucorodia), and the latter are thriving in larger and larger numbers. And on the next island over, they have spotted flamingos.

Very close to my house there is a waterway, where herons (Ardea cinerea) congregate, and have a roost in the oaks and shit all over the path. A few years back I painted one. Despite the shitting, I do like them, and Puck greets them with a friendly 'woof!'. They usually greet back with a furious ear-splitting screech.

My appartment is overlooked by the birds that use the flat roof opposite as their perch. I watch them watching me. Gulls (Larus argentatus) love to sit on the modern chimney, and also nest there. And every year a couple of oystercatchers (Haematopus ostralegus) swoop in screeching, in April, and nest on the pebbles of the roof. As I am typing this, that herring gull is watching me very attentively, as if he feels I am writing about him.

Small birds visit the food I put out for them on my balcony. Mostly tits, both coal (Parus major) and blue (Cyanistes caeruleus), but the occasional finch (Fringilla coelebs) lands as well. The jackdaws (Corvus monedula) and magpies (Pica pica) try, but they cannot perch anywhere to get at the food. Mind you, both kinds try to hang from the pot of bird butter I put out, and there is one magpie that has got the hang of it, so to speak, and gulps down a beak full before he falls away. All birds are used to Puck and me, and ignore us. Puck tolerates the jackdaws when on the balcony, but she shows them who is queen when we are walking. They in turn dive bomb us during their breeding season! Last June one of them drew blood, and I was forced to evade their corner for weeks. I do not mind one bit, I enjoy their noisy gregarious murder.

Right. This blog has become a mix between garden and birds. The thing is, there is not a lot to tell about my garden right now...It is mostly very wet. And the sky is mostly very grey, and wet. And when I do venture out to the allotment I get very wet...

Whereas birds show themselves, now that they find fewer insects and seeds in the hedgerows. When I walk Puck in the dark at 6 a.m., there are birds singing. Just a few, but all the same! Their song lifts my spirits.

Totally off-subject, I would like to convey my condolences to my readers in Hong Kong. That devastating fire of Nov.26/27 was shown on our TV, and I was shocked. I am wishing you well.

Take care,

Renée Grashoff