98 - De eerste krokus; hoop!

 Blue Monday 2023:

'Hope is a dangerous thing for a woman like me to have' zingt Lana del Rey en daar sluit ik me volledig bij aan.

De bol als symbool van wedergeboorte

Ergens op het internet, ongetwijfeld op een van de vele tuinsites die ik volg, las ik dat je de winter niet moet zien als het eind van de seizoenen, maar als het begin van de nieuwe. Ook daar kan ik me in vinden. In mijn balkontuintje zie ik de eerste gele krokus, bijna platliggend door die niet-aflatende doodvermoeiende stormwind die ons nu al meer dan een week teistert, en dan haal ik toch opgelucht adem. Gelukkig. De planten worden wakker. Mijn rose helleborus bloeit al, mijn verbena bonariensis stuurt verse groene stengels de lucht in, mijn calendula laat opeens frisgroene blaadjes zien tussen de zompige bruine van afgelopen zomer, mijn naamloze groene varen ziet er fris en  fruitig uit en mijn gele muurbloemen hebben bloemen.

Jaren naar op zoek geweest!

Door ervaring wijzer geworden wacht ik nog even met het voorzaaien; verleden winter was ik zo enthousiast dat ik een kas had dat ik al in januari begon en driekwart op de composthoop belandde, maar nu wacht ik netjes tot maart. Ik woon te klein (en hèb niet eens een vensterbank) om het binnen te doen. Ik verheug me mateloos op dit plantje rechts. Tijdens mijn Engelse jaren zag ik dit overal tussen de stenen van vele tuinen in de buurten van Londen waar ik woonde en werkte. Wij noemen het volgens mij Mexicaanse madelief, maar op het zakje staat fijnstraal, whatever. Het is eenjarig, maar heb je het eenmaal in je tuin, dan heb je het tot in eeuwigheid, want het zaait zichzelf eindeloos uit (de naam! Erigeron Profusion), het liefst tussen stenen. En weer aan het tuinieren in Nederland kon ik het zaad dus nergens vinden, totdat ik het eindelijk tegenkwam in de Hortus van Leiden. Het maakte een toch al leuke dag perfect. Ik ga het tussen de boomstammen rond mijn vijver zetten.

Komt uit mijn onderbewustzijn 

Ja? Je had het over hoop, hoor ik je nu denken. Wat heeft die madelief daarmee te maken?

Alles. Hoop doet leven, maar hoop die vermorzeld wordt is iets verschrikkelijks. Om er nog maar een song quote tegenaan te gooien: 'Is a dream a lie when it doesn't come true, or is it something worse?' (Bruce Springsteen dit keer) Dus hoop maakt je ook kwetsbaar.

Eentje om het af te leren: ' Hope is being able to see that there is light despite all of the darkness' (Desmond Tutu). En nu niet denken dat ik dit soort quotes Google, want mijn hoofd is een vat vol van dit soort nutteloze dingen; maar vraag me om in te loggen op een site en ik moet de inlogcode opzoeken.

Om me heen zie ik mensen worstelen met het slechte nieuws dat van alle kanten op ons afkomt. Ik worstel er ook mee. Inflatie, stikstof, oorlog, het rare weer, polarisatie, onzekerheid over de toekomst, en voor mid-60ers als ik komen daar afnemende vitaliteit en gezondheidsproblemen nog eens bij. Dus wat doe je dan, als je je niet aan een godsdienst kan vastklampen en ook geen miljoen op de bank hebt, of niet denkt dat geld en bezit het antwoord is op alles? Je kijkt naar je tuin, ziet hoe de planten gewoon hun gang gaan en hoopt op betere tijden. Ik zaai, dus ik investeer in de toekomst. In elk geval in een prachtige tuin waardoor ikzelf, maar ook langsfietsende anderen, eventjes heel blij worden en hun zorgen vergeten. Maar ik investeer ook in de gemoedsrust die mijn tuin me schenkt.

Voorlopig hoop ik dat die butwind nou eens gaat liggen!

Zoek me op Instagram@songsmith2962 voor meer foto's en verhalen. Alle schilderijen die ik showcase op dit blog  (zie ook de art pagina) zijn origineel en te koop.

Fijn weekend!

15 - My allotment/Mijn tuin.

 Well, it is official. From now on I can proudly call myself a proper gardener again. My balcony garden remains, but the fact that I have a real plot of land with a shed and greenhouse means a lot to me. I have missed a garden so much it ached.

First rushed mini-harvest

This evening I cycled through the drizzle to the allotments to get the keys, and the monkey-puzzle of gardens made my heart swell. And the scent! My next door neighbour has a large netted plot of strawberries bordered by a huge fig, so it smells like a heady mix of England and Greece.

So I walked around my plot, just looking at what is there. And what has priority.

Priorities

 The strawberries have gone mushy and are a magnet for slugs. So I slithered on hands and knees under the netting ( What was that old man thinking, that a pixie would come pick his berries?) and told the hordes that this was it. They will have to move to another garden. This garden ain't big enough for us all. And I picked approx half of what hasn't rotted yet.

Then I watered the tomatoes and cucumbers and broccoli in the greenhouse, noticing that the water all pools in certain places...important information. And I picked some beans and tomatoes and found a huge monster cucumber.

 Another priority is fencing of the area between the greenhouse and shed, so I can bring my darling Puck. There is shade for her, and she can wander in and out, but (most important) she cannot get to the little dog next door. My dog is a sweetheart to humans, but detests her own species. Must be her past as a permanently pregnant  chained guard dog. No wonder she turned grumpy to other dogs.

I have uploaded a video of my garden to Instagram @songsmith2962 in Dutch and will upload one in English tonight.

Het is officieel. Vanaf nu kan ik mezelf trots een echte tuinder noemen. Mijn balkontuin blijft, maar het feit dat ik nu een stuk grond heb met een schuur en een kas betekent ongelofelijk veel voor me. Ik miste een echte tuin zo erg dat het pijn deed.

Vanavond fietste ik door de miezer naar het complex om de sleutels op te halen, en de wirwar van tuinen deed mijn hart zwellen van blijdschap. En de geur! Mijn buurvrouw heeft een groot stuk met aardbeien en daarachter staat een grote vijg, dus het ruikt naar een zoete mix van Engeland en Griekenland. Dus ik liep rond mijn grond, gewoon om te kijken wat er groeit. En wat ik eerst moet aanpakken. 

Prioriteiten

De aardbeien zijn gaan rotten en zijn een magneet voor naaktslakken. Dus ik kroop op handen en knieën rond onder het net (wat dacht die oude man, dat een tuinkabouter ze zou komen plukken?)en vertelde de legioenen dat dit het einde was. Ze moeten verhuizen. Deze tuin is niet groot genoeg voor ons allemaal. En ik plukte ongeveer de helft van wat nog niet aan het rotten was. Daarna gaf ik de tomaten en komkommers en broccoli in de kas water, en zag dat het water op bepaald plekken poeltjes vormt...belangrijk te weten. Toen plukte ik wat snij- en tuinbonen en vond een reuzenkomkommer. 

Een andere prioriteit is het afzetten van het plaatsje tussen de kas en schuur, zodat ik mijn lieve Puck mee kan nemen. Er is daar schaduw, en ze kan in en uit de kas tuttelen, maar (heel belangrijk) ze kan niet bij het kleine hondje van de buuf komen. Mijn hond is een schatje voor mensen, maar heeft een hekel aan haar eigen soort. Het zal haar verleden zijn als permanent zwangere kettinghond. Zou ik ook sjaggerijnig van worden.

Ik heb een video van mijn tuin op Instagram gezet @songsmith2962 

13 - To cottage, or not to cottage? / Cottagetuin of niet?

 Of course I know cottage is not a verb, but sitting here in the gloom looking out on my balcony garden, to me it is.

I have great news!

You know I told you I was waiting for an allotment, right? I have been allocated one. Now, I have not seen the exact plot yet, so in fact know nothing, but that does not stop me from making plans.

The immediate question is in what style will I create my mix of veg, herbs, fruit and flowers? My old cottage garden springs to mind. I adored that garden, and cried when leaving it behind. But that gorgeous garden, with its buxus bordered beds, and old Dutch cobbled paths, and sheds and greenhouse and large pond, was managed by two gardeners, and now there will only be one...back-achey older version me!

Caution and sensible planning need to be implemented. Ideally the beds need to be raised (The Back). But I dislike straight lines. Curved lines, but how? Money is an issue (there is little), and also the fact that the hard landscaping will have to be done by me ( again something The Back will not like. I will bribe it with the prospect of a Korenwijn afterwards).

But it will be such fun!

You can see the first photos on Instagram @songsmith2962 soon.

 Natuurlijk weet ik dat cottage geen werkwoord is.  Maar hier zittend in het halfduister met uitzicht op mijn balkontuin, maak ik er gewoon eentje van.

Ik heb geweldig nieuws! Jullie weten dat ik op de wachtlijst stond voor een volkstuin, toch? Ik heb er eentje toegewezen gekregen. Ik weet nog niet exact waar op het complex, dus eigenlijk weet ik nog niks, maar dat houdt me niet tegen om alvast plannen te maken.

De eerste vraag is in welke stijl ik mijn mix van groente, kruiden, fruit en bloemen zal planten. Vroeger had ik een cottage tuin. Ik was gek op die tuin, en moest huilen toen ik haar achterliet.  Maar die prachtige tuin, met haar buxusperken, Waalse steentjespaden, schuurtjes, kas en grote vijver werd bijgehouden door twee tuinlieden, en nu zal er maar één zijn...slechte-rug oudere versie Ik!

Voorzichtigheid en verstandig plannen is geboden. Eigenlijk moeten het opgehoogde bedden worden (De Rug). Maar ik heb een hekel aan rechte lijnen. Dus gebogen lijnen, hoe dan? Geld is een dingetje (heb het niet), en ook het feit dat al het graaf- en bouwwerk door mijzelf gedaan moet worden (ook iets waar De Rug niet blij mee zal zijn. Ik zal hem moeten omkopen met een Korenwijn na afloop). Maar het wordt so gaaf!

Je kunt de eerste foto's snel op Instagram @songsmith2962  vinden.

12 - Dutch or English? Both, why not! Gardening is universal.

This blog started out in English, to correspond with my Instagram account where I have mostly international contacts. But to my amazement I have more countrymen reading it so far. And they told me they sometimes struggle with the English. So, easy quick solution: I'll use both languages.

And I have such good news! This morning I finally received an email that my long wait is over. There is an allotment waiting for me. At last! And just in time for my summer holidays, so that's super.

Now, things are not finalised, I still have to have The Talk with the board, but I am a die-hard optimist so it will all work out, I'm sure.

New garden coming up!

So not only will I keep you up to date with my balcony gardening, but you can follow the ups and downs of my allotment garden as well. Such fun!

 Omdat ik te horen kreeg dat mijn Nederlandse lezers soms wat moeite hebben met het Engels, lever ik gewoon een vertaling. Geen probleem!

En ik heb zulk goed nieuws! Vanochtend ontving ik een email dat het lange wachten voorbij is. Er is een volkstuin voor me beschikbaar. Eindelijk! En precies op tijd om mijn zomervakantie te vullen, dus dat is super.

Het is allemaal nog niet in kannen en kruiken, ik moet nog een 'intake' met de voorzitter van de toelatingscommissie (in goed Nederlands, hahaha), maar onverbeterbare optimist die ik ben weet ik zéker dat het goed komt.

Een nieuwe tuin komt er aan!

Dus ik blijf jullie niet alleen op de hoogte houden van mijn balkontuin, maar nu ook van alles rondom mijn nieuwe echte tuin. Dat wordt leuk!

Je kunt via Instagram nog veel meer lezen/you can read more about my garden @songsmith2962 

8 - Growing veggies on a clifftop

 Grow your vegetables!

We are urged to eat less meat and sugar, and more veggies.

The shadiest corner at 21:30

As a gardener, obviously I couldn't agree more. Growing plants is fun, and growing something delicious to eat is double fun. The delight you feel when a seedling shows itself, and then watching that tiny thing grow until you can harvest it...it appeals to the deepest instinct of survival. And then when you compare the taste of your wonky home-grown cucumber to that watery straight as a ruler supermarket one...need I say more?

  Clifftop conditions

Now, I've told you my balcony garden has issues. It is SW facing, and almost always extremely windy. When the sun shines, it scorches from 11 a.m. until sundown. A slug colony lives underneath the decking and comes up to have raves at night. Everything needs to be grown in pots. And the pollinators have to be lured in.

My first efforts at growing veg were mostly disastrous. The runner beans made lovely runners, cute orange flowers and produced exactly 1 beautiful bean, due to non-pollination. The sweet potato looked gorgeous, it has such pretty coloured leaves don't you agree? But when I dug up the tubers they were mushy and spongey. The ginger shriveled up. The 2 courgette plants produced huge leaves, looked terrific, but I got only 4 courgettes.

 Parsley, aniseed and raddish  

  Mind you, there have been successes as well, thank Frith,       otherwise I would have lost heart.

 So far I have grown great tomatoes, chilis, strawberries, herbs, and the nasturtiums which I use in salads do very well indeed.   Salad greens do alright, as long as I protect them from the slugs.

  The strawberries need protection as well, from slugs sure, but even more from Puck, who loves them. She has turned biting them delicately off the stem into an art form.

 Plastic containers work best, as that sun dries out the much nicer terracotta ones much too fast. Plastic is against my green principles, but needs must. And I only get the ones made from recycled plastic, promise! I fill them with multi-purpose peatfree organic soil (with free slug embryos, grumble grumble grumble).

 Making plans

Because I am trying to grow lathyrus via a miniature teepee onto my bubble chair, I got to thinking about rigging a line between 2 large teepees, and having another go at beans. Now that I know there aren't enough visiting pollinators, I could try to have a go at pollinating the plants myself. That would be a first. Will keep you informed about it. Oh, when I finally get my allotment I will go wild...with my eyes closed I can see it already...

You can read more about my balcony garden on Instagram @songsmith2962 and my original art is @grashoffr .

Have a lovely day in your garden!

7 - Gardening means Sanity

 "What is depression like? It's like drowning, except you can see everyone around you breathing." (HealthyPlace.com)

In spring 2020 the world was thrown into a pandemic and I went to pieces.

Mental health and gardening 

 My garden is not a luxury, nor a chore. It is a necessity for my mental health. Let me explain.

In February 2020 Covid-19 struck. Except the Netherlands had no clue it did, so our Catholic South celebrated carnival as usual and many other people went on their habitual skiing trip. By March people started to die; we were thrown into strict lockdown and shock. Schools, shops, bars, theatres, all places where people could gather were closed, folk were ordered to work from home.  By means of only one governmental commandment (thou shalt stay at home) my existence ground to a halt and I lost my entire social life overnight. I was also prohibited from visiting my gravely ill Mum, who lived in a secure old folks home due to her Alzheimer's and cancer.

Blossom time

Spring. Paradoxically, that Spring was the most gorgeous one I can remember. So at first I admired the blossom on the trees, the sunshine, the suddenly unprecedented clean kerosenetrail free blue skies, and rejoiced in my garden. But pretty soon loneliness sneaked up on me. I loathed the online lessons and meetings, I missed company, my art clubs, my band and most of all I felt I failed my mother. I was not allowed to visit her.

My balcony garden looked amazing in the sunshine. The Pelargoniums were a riot of colour, the Roses and Cannas were gorgeous, the herbs did great, everything seemed  hunky dory. But there was this dark Paynes Grey fog slowly but surely creeping over my Eden,  and covering me when I sat reading, next to Puck. And it wouldn't lift. Every time I battled medical burocracy, trying to them allow me to see my Mum but failing, that fog got a bit darker. And every time I lost half a newly written test paper at work because of defunct IT whatever, it deepened again.

And then in June Mum took to her bed and didn't come out. She was in pain, so much pain, she told me in a video call helped by a carer, but by the time I had screamed at her doctor and was finally allowed a 10 minute visit, all kitted up in PPE, she didn't recognise me anymore. I wasn't allowed to sit with her during her last hours. She died all alone.

My garden was my solace

Arrangements for her funeral were what kept me going, but afterwards there was a hole as large as the Cornwall porcelain quarry. It felt as bleached bone dry as well. And I turned to what I have done since I was a child in times of distress: I turned to the green spaces. Walking my dog was allowed, and cycling too, so that's what I did. I spent hours sitting amongst my plants, just sitting. You can say what you like, I am convinced that plants heal. Simply being with them, smelling them, brings peace. 

I used my Arabian mint to make tea, and watched the wind rustle the leaves of the Cannas, bathing in the scent of the lavender and lemon Pelargoniums. The English rose smiled at me. I imagined it spoke to me. A rose is a rose is a rose, and you will be alright. And I said thank you, for attempting to keep me grounded and sane.

In loving memory of Mum, who died on June 11th, 2020.

You can also follow me on Instagram @songsmith2962 and @grashoffr

6 - Happy Hostas

 Some years ago now, I gave up on hostas. But life changes, in this case for the best.

My happy hosta

Hostas project that lush jungle like vibe that I love. Having grown up in a rural area, surrounded by apple orchards, wheat, sugarbeets and lots of grassland dotted with Friesians (how typically Dutch would you like?), my world was flat, green, and small-leaved. My Mum took me to a hortus botanicus when I was 8, and I fell in love with tropical plants on the spot. Jungle Book became my favourite film, and I dreamed of living in a jungle. Mind you, visiting Aruba when I was 11 quickly made me realise: tropical plants, great, all those venomous insects that thrive there, and snakes, erm...not my thing. "Oh, don't you worry, they won't hurt you if you leave them alone", I was told. Yeah, right. After a very up close and personal encounter with a small scorpion that stung me on the stomach when it had hidden itself in my t-shirt for a nice snooze ("aren't you lucky it was a small one"), I decided jungle life was not for me!

Slugs! Loathe them! 

But the love for large green leaves remained. I wanted a gunnera, was told I was barmy, as it would dominate the entire garden. So planted a pergola kiwi instead. Very lush, very green, and it grew huge. And hostas, must have hostas, as they come as close to a 'tropical vibe' as you can get in this climate. But the many slugs and snails in my old garden came to dinner daily, and nothing worked. I tried coffee grains, sharp sand, sharp grit, beer traps, picking them off twice a day, and was still left with just the veins. 

Balcony garden  

On my balcony though, the picking off method works, hurray! As long as I do it daily. So here I have had two gorgeous hostas for 4 years. They take centre stage, and are admired by everyone that visits. They are blooming at the moment, a month later than usual due to the extremely cold April and May this year. And believe me they are pampered.

5 - Ravishing Roses

 Shakespeare used a rose to explain something: 'What's in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet...'

Still, the word rose evokes quite a different image from the word turd, and a turd smelling as sweet as a rose...would we rave about our dog's turds? I doubt it.

Roses are amongst my garden favourites. I walk the longer way home simply to pass the house which is festooned by a climbing New Dawn. So it cannot come as a surprise to you that I had to have some roses in my balcony garden. 

The first that joined my life (sorry, I'm a weird plant nut, remember, so roses are family) was the Rosa canina you see on the left. It was small, and past its best, so a bargain. But it smelled divine and fitted in my saddle bag, so what's not to love? We've kept each other company for 4 years now, and it has bravely weathered several gales, drought, snow and frosts. It blooms, I give it a haircut and it blooms again.

It is always the first one to show buds, and to wave her first flowers at me - look, look at me!

Then 2 years ago a friend took me to an old nursery in the next town, where they grow old fashioned roses. The scent from the greenhouse was heavenly. So I brought home an English tea rose. It starts out with salmon and yellow buds, opens up to salmon flowers and then the blooms fade to a buttery yellow within a few days. I've repotted it twice, and it blooms twice in a season as well. This modest beauty has been blown over during the gale last April. I found her on her head in the rock garden, but she only dropped some leaves and rearranged her branches  - let's get on with it, she quietly said, I don't want to think about my ordeal ever again.

And then there are my miniature anonymous hybrids that I rescued from the DIY centre. You know the kind, they are covered with flowers when they appear on the shelves and usually die within a fortnight? I got three for the price of two ( ha!), and they have been with me for 4 years as well. They are like rowdy little boys, jostling each other for space, and always poking their noses at whatever flavour of the year they share their planter with. They have viscious needle-like thorns, and shout loudly when they want a drink - hey! Thirsty!

I planted one of those little thugs in my cottage garden 26 years ago, and it has climbed the elderberry next to it and is now over 10 m tall, almost smothering that elderberry in blood red roses every year.

Not all my roses have been a success...In the first year I tried to get a Schneewittchen to wind through my trellis. I'd had one in my cottage garden, where it met a New Dawn halfway across the pergola and was easy going and gorgeous. But here the lady complained about the balcony, it did not like the planter, it got into a fight with the depressed Honeysuckle, and got black spot. She howled she hated it so much she was going to kill herself, and made good on that threat. We remember her with fond regret.

#roses #thedutchdeltagardener #gardenista #gardeningistherapy #gardening #greenthumbs #myhappyplace

If you'd like to see more photos of my Roses, you can visit my garden on Instagram @songsmith2962 and @grashoffr

4 - My garden of Eden

 "Eden: the beautiful garden where Adam and Eve, the first human beings, lived before they did something God had told them not to and were sent away, often seen as a place of happiness and innocence."

That's according to the Oxford Advanced Learner's Dictionary.

When I first read this it intrigued me, the 'did something', it is surprisingly vague. To me, beautiful gardens are meant to be worked, apples are meant to be picked, otherwise that happiness is swiftly erased by swarms of wasps, slugs and other assorted creepy crawlies. Innocence? Hm. I was told not to use plants taller than 50 cm, but that first summer my verbena bonariensis grew taller than me (I'm 1.69). Luckily there are no snakes on Voorne, otherwise I would have been evicted pronto.

We do have a lot of other wildlife around here. It's the proximity of water and greenery. At the end of my street, near the small ferry to the next isle, there are abandoned playing fields. The football and tennis club have moved out and the animals have moved back in. The large white poplars and summer oaks house ringneck parakeets, woodpeckers, ravens, crows, doves and a roost of jackdaws. In 2019 a buzzard raised two chicks there. Underneath the trees live hares, voles, mice, and I come across the occasional roe deer or two at dawn. Herons fish, mute swans nestle, all kinds of waterfowl make a hell of a racket. We even boast two beavers. 

I love it. To me, rewilding is the magical word of the decade. I do realise that parcel of land is meant for a housing project, but long may my council lack the funding! In the meantime I try to lure the wildlife to my garden. The slugs have rather unfortunately made it their home, that wasn't in the plan. But I coo over every ladybird and bumblebee that flies onto my flowers. I'd love butterflies and sorely miss my old pond with damselflies and dragonflies. I've put up an insect hotel and feed the birds. And try to plant pollinator flowers.

So this year I have sown some seeds. Aniseed (especially for the flowers), marigolds, lathyrus, two kinds of nasturtium, and mixed pollinator seed. I put the seed trays on my heated living room floor (that works well for the seedlings, not so much for me, as walking becomes an obstacle course) and meant to put them outside in April, like all normal gardeners do. Except it was so extremely cold, all through April. So they remained indoors.

We had night frost up to May 28th, I kid you not!

Those seedlings grew well. Puck thought so too, and bit off all the heads one afternoon when I was out. I cried. There, I'm not ashamed to admit it. But I did put them out in the cold after that and kept my fingers crossed. Well, unlike the cheap red Lidl rescued salvias I had planted to brighten up the gloom, those seedlings took the frost and rainstorms in their stride. They hardly grew at first, and the nasturtiums lost some leaves to the wind, but they survived. Unlike my beloved cannas. Not a shoot in sight so far, deep sigh. I fear I've lost both pots. I adored those blood red cannas, even more so because I rescued the original one from the local DIY centre, where it was thrown onto the rejects tray and I got myself a bargain for €1. I'm big on rescue, my Puck is a rescued dog, many of my plants are and I could use a good rescue myself. Anyway, that one miserable canna was divided into two gorgeous plants last year, and every evening Puck and I sat next to them and praised every flower.

#cannas #rewilding #seedlings #wildlife #thedutchdeltagardener #birds #plantaholic #gardeningistherapy #adoptdontshop #rescueddog 

You can read more about my balcony garden at Instagram @songsmith2962 and @grashoffr

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