2025/29 - Mrs McGregor's Garden

 When you are my age, you have probably grown up with Beatrix Potter's stories. Her little books were the first ones that did not only satisfy my need for cute naughty kittens and fluffy rabbits, but also woke me up to the concept of a kitchen garden. Alas, Mr McGregor scared the pants of me! But Beatrix's drawings of his garden were fascinating, and instilled a life-long love of kitchen gardens.

When maintained well, they are gorgeously poetic. The garden next to mine is such a garden. I will post a photo when you scroll down in this blog. But first I'll tell you about this veg garden.

My neighbour (mid-80's) has had this garden for over 60 years. He gardens the old- fashioned way: digging, rotating, milling, sowing seeds and planting out. His knees no longer allow him to kneel to thin out his beetroot, he says. I swear they thin out themselves, just to please him.

I would, too. His potatoes, in this terrible potato year, are a dream to behold. His strawberries were 4x the size of mine.  His cabbages produced fat healthy babies! He does everything just right.

For me, where the only carrots I grow are the wild variety (photo above) that seed themselves anywhere they please, his veg patch is a joy to look at. He, in turn, says he enjoys looking at my naturalistic chaos, which buzzes with insects. 

By the way, that bumblebee on the Hydrangea was still fast asleep when I took that photo at 07.30 a.m., while his mates were busily buzzing away.

Anyway: where my neighbour is Mr McGregor, I am Mrs McGregor. In true 20th century fashion, she hardly gets a mention in those books. I think she bakes a pie somewhere. But she certainly does not grow the veg! Well, neither do I. I love looking at them, but am pretty hopeless at growing them this year.

First my excuse was the drought. And still is. The hand full of yellow Raspberries that I managed and the one meal of Broad Beans are my successes. Along with the Romaine, Paksoi and Lettuce. But I am better at growing flowers. That is to say, flowers happily do their thing and I try to take care of them as best I can.

Despite heatwave nr 3, most flowers are uncomplainingly doing their thing. Some better than others, I must admit.

Right, time for that veg photo.

I took it this morning, from the corner of the almost emptied potato patch, looking towards my plot. To the right some succession potatoes (he's good at that), Romain, Cabbages, Beetroot. To the left Leeks, Lettuce, Onions. In the middle his amazing Strawberries (finished). Behind them more Onions. In his greenhouse Tomatoes, Cucumbers, String Beans, and Chinese Cabbage.

The monster Artichokes are mine. I had to tie them up to the obelisk after the storm we had exactly a week ago.

I braved the Ladybird larvae and dove in. They are over 2m tall by now, so unfortunately too tall for me to be able to watch the bumblebees using the flowers as hammocks in a week's time. I wrestled them to the obelisk, it was a bit like trying to get a cow to shift. Have you ever tried that? I have.

Right. I will leave you with a photo of the river near my house, the Brielse Maas (dammed off from the North Sea unfortunately, so the water turns green with algae in Summer). I will upload a new blog to my website today as well, so do take a look, why don't you? Renée Grashoff Schrijft

Brielse Meer/ Brielse Maas (same river, since dammed it is a 'meer' and no longer a river) at 06.15 this morning. My favourite walkies with Puck.

Have a good weekend, wherever you are!

Renée Grashoff 

51 - Being a crazy/genius allotmenteer

 Or plot, vegpatch, garden, fantasy, mistake...you take your pick!

I have written my last 40 or so blogs in my native language, Dutch, and kindly asked all you English speakers to use the provided translator button, but an English blogpost is called for, I think.

The reason for this is simple: this blog is an extra for my followers on Instagram, and 99% of those read English.

So....What's with the allotment and what's all this about my green yearnings?

I teach vocational college English for a living, usually with satisfaction, but I don't have to tell you it is a demanding and thus extremely tiring job. I also don't have to tell you repeated lockdowns have only made my job more exhausting, and my need for real lasting relaxation very urgent indeed! So I was ecstatic when I was number one on the waiting list for an allotment in June 2021, or a volkstuin as we call it over here. No water, no electricity, surrounded by grizzled old (but very sweet) geezers, but my piece of heaven all the same. And quite large: 33x10 m. It has a large shed and a large greenhouse, and when I took it over it was chockablock with beans, onions, potatoes, tomatoes and strawberries. Heaven!

Five days later I was launched by my darling doggie and broke my humerus (upper arm to you), and that was that. Straight from heaven to hell, bam! For it could not be set, and I was in terrible pain and could not sleep in my bed for months.

The veg rotted away before my eyes, awful to behold, but thankfully a colleague took pity on me and forked the potatoes and onions out of the soil.

By mid-August I was weeding with my left hand though and by September I planted my first perennials one-handedly.

My right arm is an only partially functioning pain in the butt to this day, but hey-ho, who cares, I have dug a frog pond with it (twice...) and am in the process of building a gazebo out of pallets. And what was a bare plot in October is now filled for 3 quarters with perennial flowers and shrubs, loads of them gifted by those old geezers.

My greenhouse is filled with seedlings, and I am cleaning the windows in stages, so my future tomatoes, paprikas, chillies and cucumbers will have plenty of light. I have renamed the garden Hunky Dory,  that has a so much nicer ring to it than plot 54A. And it is, or will be this Summer, Hunky Dory. A proper garden with flowers and veg. My piece of peaceful green, where my overheated mind can have a rest.

Okay, from my gale-blown Sunday to yours, have a good day.

You can read more about my garden on Instagram @songsmith2962 

24 - Waarin de vijg gemolesteerd wordt / A molested fig tree

 

Na dagen van hoosbuien en loeiharde wind was het vanochtend gelukkig wat rustiger buiten, dus weer een bezoekje aan mijn tuin gebracht.

Ik kan me niet heugen zo'n vreemde zomer gehad te hebben, het schiet van de ene naar de andere kant als een 16 jarige na teveel biertjes. Maar goed, met Henk door de één na laatste bui naar de vereniging om daar te constateren dat het onkruid inmiddels kniehoog stond. Dat was zuur, want ik nam de tuin over in praktisch onkruidvrije staat. Potdomme!

Terwijl hij zich op de distels naast de aardappels wierp, worstelde ik met één hand met kattenstaart en raaigras en ander ongewenst spul in de bloemenborder en knipte ik de door de vele regen rottende hortensia bloemen. En zoals altijd wanneer ik met planten bezig ben, verdween de pijn in mijn arm en alle zorg om de toekomst naar de achtergrond en was ik volkomen Zen. Ik heb niet van veel spijt, maar wel degelijk van het door omstandigheden niet af kunnen maken van mijn City & Guilds horticulture opleiding in 1986. Soms vraag ik me af hoe mijn leven was verlopen als ik wel zoals gepland in England als tuinontwerper aan de slag was gegaan. Nu genoot ik van de geur van de vijg en werkte ik me gestaag door de border terwijl de laatste bui mijn shirt doorweekte.

De tuin lag er verder goed bij. Er waren verrassings gladiolen binnen en buiten en weer een emmer vol tomaten en joepie, een mini meloen. Een andere verrassing was de vijg: buuf was zo fanatiek als een kudde olifanten met de snoeischaar aan de gang geweest. Niet dat die vijgen snoeien, maar je begrijpt vast wat ik bedoel. Bijna totale verwoesting.

 

Ik schrok er gewoon van, die prachtig vijg. Geen wonder dat ik het hout op meters afstand rook. 

Ik hoop dat dit weer een beetje herstelt, want het ziet er nu niet uit.  Hier tegenover stond dat de andere hoek, van de andere buurman, prachtig stond te bloeien met echinecea, nigella, phloxen en korenbloemen. Mijn toekomstige tuin zal naadloos aansluiten bij zijn hoekje, ik ben benieuwd wat hij ervan zal vinden. Visit Instagram @songsmith2962 for more photos.

English

After days of showers and harsh winds this morning was slightly calmer, so I visited my allotment.

I cannot remember having had such a weird summer, it veers from one way to the other like a 16 yr old after too many beers. So, was driven by Henk to the allotments through yet another shower, only to conclude the weeds were knee high. That hurt, I had taken over a practically weed-free plot. Damn!

Whilst he tackled the thistles next to the potatoes, I wrestled singlehandedly with horsetail and grasses and other unwanted immigrants in the flower border, and cut back the rotting hydrangea heads. Too much rain. And like always when I am busy with plants, the pain of the fracture and worry for the future faded into the background and I became totally Zen. There's not a lot I regret, but I do the unfinished City & Guilds horticultural course in 1986, due to unsought- for circumstances. I sometimes wonder what my life would have been like if I had finished, and worked as a garden designer in England as planned. Now I revelled in the scent of the fig and worked through that border as the last shower soaked my shirt.

The garden looked good. There were surprise Gladiolus indoors and out, and another bucket full of tomatoes and oh joy, a mini melon. Another surprise was the fig: my neighbour had cut back her fig like a trampling herd of elephants. Not that they garden, but you get my drift. Almost total devastation.

I was quite shocked, that lovely tree. No wonder I smelled it from meters away. I hope it will recover, for it looks sad. As opposed to the other corner from my other neighbour, blooming away gorgeously with Echinacea, Nigella, Phlox and Cornflowers. My future garden will fit his seamlessly, I wonder what he will think of it.

Visit Instagram @songsmith2962 for more photos.