57 - Living with the seasons

 People in cities (and I lived in large cities for 10 years) tend to divide seasons according to "beer outside" and "beer inside". You can tell my time spent as a city dweller was in my twenties, right?

Spring!

These days I live by the season. Walking a dog helps a lot, because for one you realise that more often than not it is dry at dawn. You don't believe me? It is! And then by 07.30, when it is time to leave for work, it rains. What I mean is, dogwalking and gardening both immerse you in whatever the weather throws at you. If I would only garden when the weather is fine, my plot would be in a sorry state.

Thus I planted my perennials last October with rain pouring straight down my back into my jeans. My frog pond was dug when it was blowing so hard it was difficult to keep my footing. And this week I am struggling to get my earlies into rock hard soil. Hans next door used a rotary cultivator to get his potato patch ready, but since I plan to only plant 12 chitted seedpotatoes that seems a bit over the top. Still, that soil does worry me. What will my tender seedlings do when confronted with this stuff in a month's time? The only thing I can think of is to fork shop-bought garden compost through, by lack of my own compost, which I have only just started.

Still, it will not stop me from sowing even more seeds this afternoon.

Summer!

I had put two large plastic ground sheets down over the piece nearest to the ditch in October, and that has worked a treat! The soil underneath is black, crumbly, weed-free. Black gold, hahaha. So I've decided to put the potatoes there.

The plan was to make raised beds, but ...Plans can be changed. Those tatties need to get in the ground, it's a full moon and it is time!

I hope the three Artichokes I've planted (10 cm of stick with tiny roots on) will feel the pull of that moon and start to grow. I adore those plants, they are so architectural, and their large flowerheads are gorgeous.  There is something magical about huge leaves, don't you think? Gunnera, also on my wish-list, but I don't think this would survive my heavy clay. It's also a bit of a thug, and I need to keep friendly with the neighbours.

Tomatoes Summer '21

Someone asked me if I wasn't happy that the gardening season would start soon? Excuse me? My gardening season has not stopped from the moment I could drag my sorry old body back to the allotments in September! Even when the wind was screaming around the greenhouse and the rain was thundering on the roof, I was there, even if just to make sure that roof was still on!  And to talk to my salad leaves, garlic and broccoli, of course.🤗

Okay, at this moment, just when you have decided I am totally barmy (but harmless), it is a good moment to leave you. Have a great gardening week, enjoy the outdoors and why not try to talk to your seedlings? No harm done.

Read more about my gardens on Instagram@songsmith2962 

56 - Of bark and bees.

Instagram@the_pollinators 

Days, I spent dithering about grass vs French chipped bark. I like grass, especially to walk on barefooted, and the sweet smell when it's freshly cut. But to lay an esthetically pleasing grass path is quite involved. And I'm afraid that on my plot it will soon morph into grass with huge puddles on for 9 months of the year.

Early morning

Thus I decided on chipped bark. It means expense, and digging out a layer of that cement-like soil, but it will look like a path instantly as soon as I've put it down. And no weekly mow. An occasional weeding, yes. But also quite nice to walk on, and creepy crawlies love it. (Oh, to have a clutch of chickens! But no)

So, I ordered 5 humongous 70 liter bags of French bark, which were unceremoniously dropped at the bridge to the allotments, and gave myself a nasty backache as a 'bonus' when I had to get them into my wheelbarrow. Not cheap, pine bark, so if you garden on a tight budget (like me, ha!) I would really think about it. But apart from easy to use, it is great to look at, and smells really good.

The French bark

What else has been happening on my plot? The Verbena bonariensis I foolishly planted outside look okay, despite a week of ground frost. And seen from the road those two obelisks really make a difference to my flat patch. Oh, I could watch that climbing rose out of the ground! But will have to be patient, so far it has just 5 clusters of tiny leaves.

Still, my weekly round of garden centres will continue, searching for bargains. This year, due to the metamorphosis of vegpatch to flower garden, I will use lots of annuals, but the plan is to gradually turn to mostly perennials, interspersed with some veg.

I adore bees

By the way: just like last year I will be a food bank for bees for The Pollinators,Instagram@the_pollinators their address link is also right on top of this blog. I will be distributing FREE seeds from my allotment on April 9th between 10 and noon. You can find my address through their website, or drop me a line in the comments or at my Instagram page.

I will sow my own pollinators mix under the apple trees,  to prolongue the pollen gift after the apple blossom has vanished.

A sea of bark

Back to the bark...

Oh dear, it seems a vast expanse of bark, and it isn't, honestly! It is just the one path circling the lavender circle. It is the angle of the photo, honestly!

 The rest of the front half of my garden will be a mass of flowers, promise. Well, at least that's the plan. I've been sowing yet more seeds today, there is hardly any space left in the greenhouse now. Time for that night frost to leave us!

Oh, and I had my last greenhouse broccoli for dinner last night, it was lovely.

Read more on Instagram@songsmith2962 

55 - Alas, not everything is an immediate success

Gardening to me is fun, hard work, rewarding, mindful, trial and error and yes, sometimes it is just plainly frustrating.

For example, when I put in all those plants one of my allotment neighbours gifted me in Autumn, my plot looked pretty full and lush. But now, come March, most of that lushness has turned into bare muddiness. That workable crumbly soil of the potato bed has morphed into, well, not concrete exactly, but to something resembling waterlogged cement. And it has rained so much and so hard these past months that my young plants are up to their necks in mud, and some of them have been swamped altogether. And don't start me on that awful sequence of storms!

It has made me think hard about my paths. Will I use grassed ones ( as I had planned), or shall I change to bark? I have had bark paths in my old garden, and the advantage is water will quickly drain. The disadvantage is little critters will drag the bark down into the soil (enriching it, so that's good!), so bark will have to be bought and redone year after year. Grass is cheaper.

Still, it will not be necessary to get a mower, nor to mowe every week.

Decisions, decisions.

Still. The obelisks are up. And so are the 5 pallets. I've repurposed them to compostheap receptables. And that ugly upright heavy iron fence is now an ugly heavy iron fence lengthways, in between the flower borders and the intended veg area. I will mask it with grasses, I think. Right now it is just ugly.

Boys will be boys

I've spoken to another neighbour about bringing  my shed door to the front, he says it's easy ( yeah, to him), and I can put one of my waterbutts to the other side, easily. Hm, I'll concentrate on the garden first.

So, what else has not gone according to plan? Well, the hederas I had put around to camouflage my waterlily vessel (no way you can call that ugly black plastic vat a pond), look pretty sorry for themselves. Golly, I do hope they will start growing soon! And my circle of lavender look at me with a frown every time I walk past. What do you call this soil, woman? It does not resemble anything we like to grow in! After I have put my glut of Verbena bonariensis and Digitalis in, the mud will be a little more camouflaged. And I have started another round of seed sowing in the greenhouse.  Jasper two plots along and I had a chinwag, like me he will put the emphasis on flowers rather than veg. Lovely, it's always nice to have a flower mate.

Remember I told you there was a huge patch of annual silverleaf anon, all stemming from just one plant but now trying to take over next door's cabbagepatch? I ripped it out, leaving 3 metres of bare soil underneath the apple trees (to sow my pollinators seeds in) and Leo kindly took it away and threw it on his bonfire. So. Water plants next, I think, to lure in those much wanted frogs and toads.

Carry on, determinedly forwards!

Read more about my gardens on Instagram@songsmith2962 

 

54 - Gardeners are peaceful people!

 Whilst the terrible news from Ukraine is dominating the media I am making plans to move the pallets from my risky gazebo to make my new composting heap.

My gazebo is demolished  

That sequence of  awful storms has not even left us, and the broken glass is still in some of the veg beds, and suddenly we are confronted with a war on European soil. Who would have thought this could still be possible in 2022? 

So, yes, I am naive. Megalomanics are amongst us, and the terrifying truth is some of them have access to nukes. I know, I know.

But my belief is that gardeners are peaceful people, so what the world needs is more gardeners!

People who sow seeds and plant greenery are people believing in a future, and who nourish the soil and cherish nature and realise the worth of taking care of the earth we share with plants and animals. Throwing bombs on other people is not in our DNA.

Or am I naive yet again?

Politics do interest me, but my days of marching are long past, and I tend to keep politics far from my blog and Instagram posts. And yet...

And yet I find I cannot keep quiet this time. I am outraged by Putin's nerve to think he can get away with invading Ukraine. And terribly sad at the same time. I saw an older woman in some nameless town there rushing across the street with her dog, trying to find shelter and crying out in panic "where can I go?" , and my heart broke for her. That could be me. That could be us. 

End of rant. I will turn to my garden for solace.

Today I broke down my half finished gazebo and turned it into two composting containers. And I used organic seaweed fertiliser on my blue-pink flowerbed. I will not do the other beds, so that I can see the difference. And tomorrow I will place my stained obelisks in situ, so roses can climb up them.  But: 'Anyone can love a rose,  but it takes a lot to love a leaf. It's ordinary to love the beautiful, but it's beautiful to love the ordinary.' (M.J. Korvan)

I wish you a lovely gardening weekend.

Read more about my gardens on Instagram@songsmith2962 

53 - Gales!!! And an angel on the roof of my greenhouse.

 The first was anon, the second Corrie, the third was named Dudley. The fourth Eunice. And the one today?

 Who cares what their names are? The sad fact is there were 5 huge storms within the space of one week. And if this is what will be our new normal the coming years, I don't think I will be able to fulfill all my gardening dreams but will have to rethink some of them.

Eunice especially was horrendous!

At home in my new built flat, all specifications ticked, everything moaned, creacked, clattered and I could not sleep due to the gusts of over 140 km/h screaming past my balcony. I could not sleep full stop! My greenhouse, my greenhouse, damn me for building that shoddy pallet gazebo in front of it, was all I could think about.

In 1990 I experienced from up close what a South-Westerly gale can do. I lived right on the Haringvliet then, close to where it ends up in the North Sea, and below the dyke were old poplars on a lawn, with trunks of at least a meter in diameter. Dogs need walkies, even during gales, so I was out with my old dog (who was then a very young dog), but could not keep to my feet on the dyke, so had walked down to shelter below it, and even there I had trouble keeping upright. Suddenly I heard a loud sound like a whip splintering wood, and to my consternation I saw that 5 of the poplars had been sheared off like match-sticks at three meters above ground level. Doggie and I ran back to the house, certain we would feel the next tree hitting us any minute. Needless to say we lived to tell the tale. But I have great respect for and not a little fear of the strength of wind since then.

So. There was a lot of damage on the allotments this morning, I saw entire greenhouses blown to smithereens, including that of my next door neighbour on the South side. Whilst I was fishing the shards of glass from my pond and garden, I decided that the gazebo has to go. I do not want another sleepless night worrying about it.

And this evening I will light a candle to the Greenhouse Angel who protected mine!

Although...yet another storm today...Sunday. I am quite sick and tired of them by now. Hope my greenhouse is okay, here we go again!

You can read more about my gardens on Instagram@songsmith2962 

52 - Chores, is there ever an end to them?

 No, fortunately not!

The edge of my plot

When my mother ordered me to clean the rabbit hutch, my 10 year old self moaned, but now that I have reached the age of a grandmother my heart lifts when it is time to visit my allotment garden, and I think of all the chores waiting there. It is like going to visit my best friend.

Topping up the frog pond, fun! Turning the valve of my water tank too far and thus topping up my boots with freezing water...not so much, but hey, it's all gardening, so it's part of my happy experience. And especially today, when the sun shows itself after a rare frosty night and the temperature in the greenhouse was high enough to shed my coat. 

Talking about that pond, some animal (cat?) had played around with my pristine pebbles, they were spread out in a no doubt pleasing pattern to them. I scraped them back to where they belong, all the while thinking about a quote by my favourite quote writer, R.W. Emerson: " The mind, once stretched by a new idea, never returns to its original dimensions". Ai, hope that does not apply to the mind of that cat (?), otherwise I can look forward to pebble art for the foreseeable future.

Ice, ice, baby!

Washing the greenhouse windows, rewarding! The old man who built it had whitewashed them before he stopped gardening, but that white coat had turned green with algae, not a pretty sight. I am slowly removing it, 3 windows at a time. So more splashing with freezing water involved, not that my already soaked socks minded. I am very grateful to that man by the way, for it turns out he planted many spring bulbs (as well as enough veg to feed the entire town). They are shooting up everywhere: around the greenhouse, under the apple trees, and in the verge of the ditch, next to the rhubarb which is sending up exciting red knobs.

Surrounded as I am by the 'We're Strictly Veg' allotmenteers, it's touching to see those cheerful flowers waving in the wind.

Narcisii a plenty

Last night's frost worried me (slightly), as I took a risk in planting up in my pond edge already, but everything looked fine this morning. And to be fair, I did pick flowers which look delicate but are quite robust, really, like campanula, violets and digitalis. I'll complement them with creeping geraniums as soon as they can be planted. Which in my country means after May 15th, otherwise you are asking for garden disaster. Or for Murphy to pay you another visit. I broke in to my own shed, by the way (SYM!), by means of industrial steel cutters.

More about my gardens on Instagram @songsmith2962 

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