Tag Archives: cloches

This month in the garden…

05 Saturday Nov 2016

Posted by in climate change, greenhouse, my garden, this month in the garden

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Just-planted garlic

…it is getting cold. Seriously, properly cold.

Actually I can’t remember being cold before Christmas before (well, a bit chilly, perhaps, but not cold of the three layers and double socks kind just yet).

We have, I think, become a bit soft in recent years what with all this global warming malarkey. Things may be a little extreme in this respect at my end of the country, around 20 miles from the south coast and never the coldest of places generally.

But since the epic winter of 2010 (when we had about 10 winters’ worth of snow, hoarfrost and ice for a memorable three or four months from November to February) we’ve been lucky to get a frost at all. Last year the lowest temperature I recorded was around 1°C, in February; the previous year we dipped to an adventurous -2°C for one night only. It was hardly the second ice age.

Anyway, all this is by way of saying that this month in the garden I have had to get my skates on (not quite literally but you never know) in a way I have not been accustomed to doing, and do all those getting-ready-for-winter things I’ve previously been putting off till about January. So here’s what I’ll be up to…

Planting garlic I have had a bit of a garlic crisis this year: every last plant succumbed to rust. I am therefore launching an experiment: I’m replanting the bulbs from the garlic which survived the longest, in an attempt to select a strain that copes better with the (now endemic) garlic rust in my garden. I will report back with results.

Collecting leaves There are so many leaves. So, so many leaves. I watched them rain down the other day like a golden snowstorm. And so to work with my trusty rake and wheelbarrow to fill as many leafmould bins as I can before they all run out.

Putting the veg garden to bed The endless task continues: clear crops, cart off to compost heap, weed, mulch, cover, repeat. I am still only halfway down the veg garden and I’ve already run out of soil improver.

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Spring cabbage still going strong after around ten straight months of harvesting

Picking spring cabbage Yes, you read that right: spring cabbage. I planted it last August (that’s August 2015) and it has been going strong ever since, mainly through my laziness in not getting around to pulling it out, so it just sprouts again. A happy accidental discovery: I shall be doing this again…

Clearing the greenhouse The cucumbers are spent; the green peppers picked. Time to strip out the last of the summer crops and get the greenhouse ready for its winter role. I have only one this year, as we’re having to move the other: I am bereft.

Lining said greenhouse with bubblewrap insulation You save around 25% on the average heating bill by insulating your greenhouse, so they say. I know it keeps things much cosier, and often means I don’t have to turn on the heater at all.

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Winter lettuces, ‘White Lisbon Winter Hardy’ spring onions, American land cress and a couple of rows of corn salad and radish seedlings tucked up safely in their plumbing pipe cloche

Planting winter salads under cloches Since I am deprived of my winter salads greenhouse this year I am resorting to planting out my greenery under cloches instead (or rather, one massive cloche made of blue plumbing pipe and clear polythene).

Wrapping bananas The Musa basjoo in the back garden has been going great guns this year, so the plan is to wrap it in the time-honoured way (chop leaves off, wrap in straw and hessian or fleece, big bubblewrap hat) and leave it outside for the first time.

Digging up pelargoniums My scented-leaf pelargonium collection is expanding all the time: I do need to bring it in for winter, though. This year they’ve been in containers on the front steps, making this particular job much easier.

Planting tulips Ah yes: there is some joy to be had this month. This year’s order includes ‘Ballerina’, ‘Jan Reus’, ‘Purple Prince’, ‘Violet Beauty’ and ‘White Triumphator’. I am looking forward to spring very much.

So, what’s new?

04 Friday Feb 2011

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Off to the big smoke yesterday for the first major garden press event of the year, The Garden Press Event 2011. It’s a chance to waft around the rather grand Horticultural Halls in Westminster meeting friends (including at least three bloggers – honorary mentions go to Nigel, VP and Kevin) and cadging more glasses of fizzy cocktails than are strictly allowed from the nice people at Hillier’s, who were celebrating the 21st anniversary of their Gardening Club (yes, I’m a member; no, I can’t do that horticultural crossword either). And you also get a sneak peek at what’s new in the gardening world this year.

There were dozens of exhibitors showing off their latest ideas: plus a few, like Hatfield House, who just wanted to build on the huge success they’ve been having following their honourable mention on Alan Titchmarsh’s recent series.

So I thought just for a change, I’d let the day job intervene for a bit: here, with apologies for my lousy photos, are the ones which caught my eye.

Metal bell cloches: Crocus
Ah… I want. I really, really want. Crocus are branching out (if you’ll excuse the pun) into making their own garden products now: and they’re applying their usual sure touch and good taste to all those things you use to protect crops, hold things up and generally primp your plants with.

Normally they look dead ugly but not these: actually I fell in love with these Victorian-style cloches at first sight. You can just see them in that glossy gardening magazine photo, can’t you? I’d probably better mention that I do work for them a bit, and they’re really lovely people. Really, really lovely people. Super, actually. No – really….

Fire pits, Fire Pits UK
Forget the barbecue: soooo 2010. Or not, if you work at the Met Office. This year it’s all about fire pits.

I once went to a party at a South African friend’s house (in Surrey) in January. When he mentioned it was a braai – Afrikaans barbecue – I laughed like a drain. I assumed it must be one of the many eccentricities to which our South African friends are prone due to a terminal state of disbelief about the state of British weather, and we’d end up eating inside like normal people.

But no: he had a fire pit. We basked in the warmth of this wonderful invention into the wee small hours, while behind us the garden turned white with frost.

These ones were particularly wonderful; hand-made, big, beautiful. Roast your chilly English backsides and dream of the Cape.

Inflatable greenhouse, Harrods Horticultural
This was just hilarious. I couldn’t help thinking it was a seriously good idea: if you’re the type who uses a greenhouse to raise your seeds in but then runs out of room in the garden when you go to plant them out, this is perfect: just take it down and stash it under the potting shed bench.

But how long, I ask, could you resist the overwhelming temptation to fill it with large multicoloured plastic balls and jump in?

Garden on a Roll
This got my prize for wackiest idea of the day. I mean, what do you make of a garden that arrives drawn on a bit of paper you attach to the ground?

I really didn’t know quite what to think at first, until I realised I was absolutely not its target audience. They state openly that this is for ‘those with no gardening or plant knowledge, and no desire or time for gardening’.

It’s gardening by numbers: you ring them up, say ‘I’ve got this three-metre border in my garden’, and they send you a big box of plants with a large sheet of paper, marked out with exactly where your plants should be planted. You spread the paper on the ground, plant the plants where you’re told to plant them, water it all in and cover with a mulch: hey-presto, instant garden.

Of course I don’t like it: it takes all the romance, creativity and love out of gardening. But – remember – this is for people who do not understand that there is romance, creativity or indeed love involved in gardening; so what you’re really doing is sneaking it all in through the back door, packaged as an off-the-shelf solution to the weedy mess in the back garden.

And however you do it, at the end of the day you’ve still improved an outdoor space, spread a little plant-driven happiness and – who knows – converted someone who would otherwise remain unenlightened. When you look at it like that, it’s not such a bad thing.

Easiwall System, Treebox
I never realised so many different kinds of vertical planting systems existed in the world.

Nearly every exhibitor seemed to have one. There were bags and boxes, plastic gizmos with pockets and metal sheets with holes in them. Growing up is catching on: but I am more than a little sceptical about the cheap(er) systems you can buy for home gardening.

If you don’t have automatic watering systems, the pockets are often so small you wonder how you can keep them moist enough for the plants to be happy: after all, they’re a quarter the size of hanging baskets and we all know how much of a faff they are.

And if you do have automatic watering systems, the top plants drain all the water out within an hour and the bottom plants are flooded. Besides, they look so ugly: the plastic or metal pockets always show through and I’ve never seen one yet which didn’t have big gaps showing between the plants. Not very wall-like, really, unless you’re into green plastic.

But: while I retain my scepticism, this system looked as good as any. It’s like one of those bookshelves you get in libraries with the leaflets in: a series of long shelves angled outwards (in fact, linked troughs) hooks on to the wall and holds the plants. You’ve still got the watering problem: but at least the roots can spread out sideways and you might – just – have a chance of your plants knitting together and forming something that resembled a wall.

I’ll stop there before I go on and on: though I haven’t mentioned Vitax’s handy little gizmos which fit on your water bottle in summer to trap wasps, or the new blue verbascum from Thompson & Morgan, or the Mr Digwell range of veg seeds just brought out by Kings which have a detachable recipe on the back (why hasn’t anyone thought of this before?). But no doubt the bits I’ve missed out will crop up elsewhere: look out for them coming soon in a gardening magazine near you.

The start of the new year

14 Friday Nov 2008

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So many people just abandon their allotments at this time of year and just turn up again in the spring (most likely to a patch of rampant weeds which it’ll then take them another couple of months to get going again).

Surprise, surprise, I’m not one of them. I’ll confess to missing the odd day when it’s really tipping down with rain, though even then I sometimes have a mung around in the greenhouse. And there are some weeks around January time when I’m reduced to sitting at home grinding my teeth because the ground is just too soggy and horrible to do anything with, so I have to give up and stay off it.

This week I’ve been starting off my new season – my fifth year on the allotment, and it’s just getting better and better. You learn a new thing with each year that passes, and just fine-tune what you do until you get it right. This year my big learning curve has been the broad beans, which almost totally failed in spring because I sowed them indoors in November and then planted them out in January as strong, but overly tall-stemmed specimens without protection. Result – the whole lot were wiped out by a combination of wickedly bad weather and stem rots. Actually, I say the whole lot, but several re-sprouted once the weather improved, giving me a fairly measly crop but a crop nonetheless. These really are tough plants.

Anyway: this year I’m experimenting with sowing in the ground, but under cover of polythene cloches. I used to avoid sowing direct, as everything just got eaten straight away, but since the mice are having a hard time even getting out of bed thanks to my ever-vigilant pussycats, I’ve felt able to risk it this time. The result ought to be sturdier plants, more able to cope with being outside all winter, and a thumping great glut of broad beans (which thankfully freeze beautifully) come May. Can’t wait.

PS: that’s my trusty allotment dog appearing in the background, mooching around looking for smelly things to eat. Am considering setting up a rebel Gardening Dog movement to counter the army of rabid cat-lovers around here. Or perhaps a Gardening Chickens movement, for which I am similarly well-armed with pictures with which to bore you rigid.