Where the hell I've been

Wow. July, huh? That's quite a long time ago, isn't it?

The thing with gardening is that it requires time, especially if you're planning on writing about it afterwards. Something else happened in July which put something of a crimp on my time:

Daughter 2 of 2. Please see instruction manual for correct operation details.

Turns out that two daughters are actually more than double the work of one and I didn't actually get back out into the garden after that last post. This meant that a lot of it died a horrible, painful and messy death.

However, there were some successes from the year. I learned a great deal about sweetcorn and the fact that you do need to give it an awful lot of space if you want to get anything from it. I produced a massive amount of plant and sod all actual food from my Three Sisters garden. In fairness, the beans and the courgettes did produce, but I didn't get a chance to get out there and harvest, so they rotted on the vine.

I also learned about some of the odd foods that I grew. New Zealand spinach/kokihi - tasty, virulent, produces like nobody's business but not something I use very often in cooking. Oca - generally tasty, requires more space than I gave it, really didn't play nicely with the tomatoes. Purslane - hard to tell apart from weeds and probably got uprooted, as I got none. Sea kale - does not like pots and takes a year to thrive even in the ground. Daylilies - delicious to slugs and snails, dead now.

I also managed to achieve my goal of a purple soup. The purple cauliflower let me down, but I managed to use ordinary white cauliflower without diluting the colour of the purple potatoes and purple carrots too much.

So, now the daughters are both a little bit older and I have a little bit of free time back. Back to the gardening? Well, yes and no. I've just moved house this month, which gets me a larger house (to fit all the daughters that I have in), but significantly smaller garden space. I reckon I can fit in 2m² of raised beds in the back garden, which is something of a downgrade on the 14m² that I had at the old place, not to mention the myriad planters, pots and bags that were scattered inbetween.

This has forced me to a) concentrate on what I actually want to grow and eat, and b) get creative. The front garden now contains 2 x fig trees, 2 hanging baskets of strawberries, 1 hanging basket of blackberries, 2m of window box filled with strawberries, 2 blueberry pots, 1 gooseberry in a pot, some jerusalem artichokes, 3 planters for oca, and a bed which I plan on putting 2 rhubarbs and surrounding them with nasturtiums so that they don't look weird. I've also managed to find a very interesting bush raspberry - instead of growing up tall and taking over, it spreads outwards and can form a hedge, so I've got three of those on order. Oh, and a dwarf cherry tree. Front lawns are overrated.

Of course, this downsizing does mean that I've got an awful lot of stuff that I need to get rid of. Remember the broccoli cages that I constantly effuse over? Well, I have about 7 of them and need only 2. The spares are free to a good home, or even a mildly bad one.

Also, I have about 7-8 raspberry plants going spare, as well as some seed jerusalem artichokes. I would recommend both to anyone with even a little bit of space in their garden - they grow straight up, so require very little dirt, grow anywhere without complaint and produce loads of fruit/tubers. Anyone who wants one/some, let me know.

Oh, and there's plenty of mutant raspberry if anyone wants that. It has eaten through all of the barriers and colonised the bed next to it. I think moving was worthwhile just to put some distance between me and it.

PJW

Growing a vegetable jungle

One thing which I didn't mention in my previous round-up post was the latest on the Three Sisters bed. That's because that's where most of the interesting things have happened in my absence and I felt it deserved a post (and a pic-spam) of its own.

For those who don't have a slavish devotion to my back-catalogue, the Three Sisters is based off an Iroquois tradition of growing corn, squashes and climbing beans together. The idea is that the beans fix nitrogen from the air into the soil, benefiting the corn and squash, the squash covers the ground with big leaves, preventing weeds from impacting the tall beans and corn, and the corn provides a climbing frame for the beans and a windbreak for the squash. It's a win-win-win. In theory.

Last year was a qualified success. The inter-connectedness of the three plants didn't really work out. I was worried about the English climate resulting in the beans overshadowing the corn and so chickened out by planting them up bamboo canes, which turned out to be pointless after I discovered I'd actually planted a non-climbing dwarf bean by mistake. Plus the pumpkins were an utter failure that not only failed to produce any fruit, but also broke out of the bed and attempted to throttle half the garden in a bid to survive. Said bid to escape meant it did very little shading. Still, I got both corn and beans out of the bed and the nitrogen fixing presumably worked, so, yeah, qualified success.

This year is so far a different story:

I think that is the most concentrated greenery I have ever accomplished in my limited gardening career.

I'll take you through the story so far. I started with my plan of attack, scribed in that most notable of tools, MS Paint.

Copy-pasted from the much larger garden diagram found here, cause I can't be arsed to draw it again square.

First off, I ditched the pumpkins of last year for courgettes, on the basis that a) I've had success with courgettes before and b) I actually like courgettes, which is more than can be said for squash or pumpkins. I also made the decision to go all-in and grow the beans up the corn instead of on a separate bamboo wigwam.

The bed is 1.25m x 1.25m and I started working on the basis that last year's efforts showed I could get good results from sweetcorn that was planted about 40cm apart, while my sister's garden showed that courgettes required room to spread when planted in the ground rather than a pot. So, I put the courgettes in the corners and worked out the tightest arrangement of corn/bean planting possible to squeeze in as many plants in as I could. This turned out to be 7 - two lines of three flanking the courgettes with one in the middle for luck.

Growing the beans up the corn introduced the issue of timing into the mix. The traditional Iroquois method sees all three seeds planted simultaneously, but the cooler English weather would mean that the corn would grow too slowly to support the beans and the leaves on the beans would grow so thick and so fast that they'd shade out everything else. After a small false-start with switching type of corn and a failure of the initial courgettes seedlings, I ended up doing the initial planting of the bed mid-May, with the beans not going in until a month later to give the corn and courgettes a head start.

Don't mind the oca that's appeared at the back, or the dwarf bean that's appeared at the front. Gardening plans are always flexible and I'm never immune to the urge to try and squeeze an extra plant into the space that's not really available.

From there, it's just been a case of letting it grow up and training the beans to grow up their appropriate corn stalks.

For scale, the tallest sweetcorn plants at the back are well over 6ft and still going.

However, the training effort went on the back foot pretty much from the get-go - the close-planting of the corn/bean units and the location in a corner has meant that it's become more and more difficult to get access to some of the sections of the bed as the foliage thickened. In addition, my attention to the garden suffered a bit from the impending arrival of Daughter II (The Daughtering) and the climbing beans were left to fend for themselves for the past few weeks as other things more urgently required my attention.

That has resulted in... well, neither words nor a still picture can do it justice.

Whether I'll see any beans from this bed is, as I said in the video, slightly up in the air (which is more than can be said for some of the beans' growth habits). However, I have already got significant courgette success and the corn is looking promising. With luck, the bed should provide a lot more than just "a valuable learning experience". And hey, at least it's been fun.

PJW

Passed times

So, yes. A few things have happened since my last post. The most significant is the reason why there's been such a hiatus - my new daughter arrived earlier this month and preparations for her arrival took up a significant amount of my gardening time and all of my writing-about-gardening time. However, I am currently in a briefly quiet house, with two precariously sleeping daughters, and have finally had time to go through all of the photographs that I've taken of the garden things that have happened since Wednesday 10th June. It seemed like a good time for a blog.

Following on from one of the last posts, I've learned a great deal about my experimental vegetable of oca. Mostly, it's that the research I did on it which called its growth "low, bushy ground cover" have a very different interpretation of low and bushy to me. The tomato pot that I excised the oca from last month has since gone on to produce some thriving tomato plants, however, the ones where I left the oca in are struggling to keep their heads above water:

 Let's play the "Spot the Tomato Plant" game! I promise you, there are three to find in this picture. One of them might even survive!

I've tried trimming them, tying them down to reduce their height (they're supposed to collapse to the ground in autumn anyway), squashing them under the tomatoes which I've staked up to encourage them to grow above the morass. No joy - it seems they thrive on being beaten and take up waaay more space than advertised. I think if this bed is to be repeated next year (which isn't a given, considering I don't even know whether I like the taste of the damned things yet!), then it will be with one oca plant flanked by two tomatoes, rather than the current setup of two ocas and three tomatoes.

One thing which I did learn from researching whether I could prune them is that the leaves are edible and actually quite tasty. They're lemony and tart and would go very well in a salad, assuming of course, that I ever ate any. Still, a bonus for any salad eaters out there who fancy a dual use crop.

Speaking of salad-dodging, the exciting adventures in making a tower garden from coke bottles have ended in complete disaster.

It was such a good idea in theory, but the practice has been let down on two fronts. The first is that it requires constant watering - by dint of its position by the drainpipe, it is sheltered from the rain and the very small surface area at the top would minimise any weather-based watering anyway. This is exacerbated by the fact that the bottles are see-through and so the sun bakes the dirt with the greatest of ease, leaving a dessicated tower that's impossible to rehydrate. The water flows around the edge of the dirt without sinking in and trickles out of the planting holes rather than going all the way down to the ground. I just don't have the regular free-time to water this as often as it needs.

Secondly, the design of the thing means that there's very little space for roots, meaning that you're limited in what can successfully grow out of it. Lettuce works just fine, as does sage, parsley and chives. However, the things that I actually like to grow and cook with regularly - brassicae, thyme, rosemary, strawberries - have all failed miserably as they require more space than this is able to provide.

In short, its only flaws were that it doesn't suit my gardening style nor the foods that I want to grow. Aside from that, it's perfect.

In terms of other things that have happened, actual food has started appearing, including purple potatoes and purple carrots.

These are particularly pleasing to me given my failures last year. The purple carrots are these ones, planted inside back in mid-February under the artificial sun. It's taken 6 months, but they've grown to a pretty reasonable size. I think the major ingredient which I was missing last year was patience - carrots are alleged to be ready to pull within 3 months of planting, but that's certainly not my experience this year. I've got a few more tubs of them planted at 3 week intervals and the next batch are certainly not ready to be pulled just yet.

I did manage one purple carrot last year, but it was of a variety called Purple Haze, which is the most common and popular purple carrot seed available. I've got no idea why it's common or popular, as it's actually only purple on the skin outside with the inside being orange like any other. This variety is Purple Sun, which was harder to find, but much cooler for being purple all the way through.

The purple potatoes are also a significant improvement on last year, which again suffered from being purple on the outside while less purple on the inside, as well as being not particularly tasty. These ones are very good to eat and, while they do lose a bit of their colour when cooked, I'm still hopeful of getting my ambition of bright purple soup. The only ingredient that I'm now missing is a purple cauliflower. And what are the odds of something going wrong with those, huh?

The great STRAW! experiment is undetermined as to whether it's a success or not. I was led to believe that I would be finding potatoes in the midst of the straw and that's just not been the case. Mostly, I've just had to dig through a thick layer of straw that's gone ooky to get down to the dirt, which has been delightful. However, once the straw's removed, it's revealed some potatoes sitting on the surface - not quite as advertised, but better than a kick in the teeth. Hard to tell if it's reduced my harvest at all, or even been any improvement over not hilling the potatoes at all. I think we'll see how the harvest as a whole goes before rendering an opinion, but given how much of a pain in the arse the straw has been to handle, I don't think it'll be making a reappearance next year.

I've also had a courgette, cabbage and broccoli from the garden, but those are relatively regulation vegetables for me now as they're quite simple to get crops from. However, one of the new vegetables has been an unexpected and resounding success.

This is kokihi, or New Zealand spinach, which I mentioned in a previous post. It was advertised as growing like a weed and being invisible to UK-based pests. Given that three weeks before that photo, that plant looked like this:

...And that I have cut off this amount of leaves from the plant twice in those three weeks:

...I'm willing to buy the "growing like a weed" claim. A huge, huge improvement on the sorts of yields available from regular or perpetual spinach plants, which are barely worth growing at home. I've had more meals from two kokihi plants in a month and a bit than I did from four perpetual spinach plants all last year. The only restriction appears to be that it likes direct sunlight; my second kokihi plant is near a fence and is nowhere near as impressive.

Just as impressive is the quality of the leaves that I'm harvesting. There's nothing less appetising than green leafy veg that something else has had a nibble at first and no amount of pesticides, slug pellets, companion plants or prayers has seemed sufficient to keep slugs from dining on my previous attempts at spinach, chard, and kale. The kokihi hails from New Zealand and promises that nothing in the UK recognises it as food, which is backed up from the fact that not a single leaf on the plant has had even a single hole, nibble or slug trail. They're just not even remotely interested. It's wonderful.

And while pests don't recognise it as food, I certainly do. It tastes just like spinach, cooks and wilts just like spinach and can be used in all the same recipes. It's not quite as good for you in terms of vitamins and minerals as ordinary spinach, but it's a close-run thing and I'd wager when you take into account the fact that you can pick it and eat it within minutes, rather than buying it from a shop where it's probably a day or two old (not to mention pesticides), it's probably even closer.

I'm looking forward to seeing how long it produces for, and whether it can even be extended into being a vegetable that produces in winter, which would be awesome. I also want to dig it up and see how deep and widespread the roots are - if the roots are deep and narrow, then it might make a perfect ground-cover under brassicae next year (and maybe even keep slugs and snails away from the main event), whereas if they're shallow-rooted, then they'd be perfect under green beans or tomatoes.

Lastly, I've finally found a use for those surplus cauliflowers that I had to buy in bulk. I've left them in the pretty garden, in large enough pots that they'll grow plenty of leaves, but without enough space to really accomplish anything, and they are now providing excellent food and breeding space for all the butterflies brought into the garden by the buddleja. Helping butterflies + encouraging them to stay the hell away from my crops = success in my book.

PJW

The Ocaey-Cokey

So, anyone remember the new experimental tomato/oca bed, that was based on top of the bones of the failed carrot experiment from last year? The theory was very simple - a ring of tomato plants, which would grow big and tall, with a bushy oca plant in the middle that would spread out and provide ground cover without shading the tomatoes overly.

I'm beginning to think that pot's cursed.

Big and tall.

This is the problem with growing odd vegetables - it's very easy to get information on how a broccoli plant grows and what to expect of it, but more difficult to find what an oca does without growing one. I think it's safe to say it doesn't play nicely with tomatoes in that close a proximity.

I did consider trying to rescue the experiment - I turned the pot so that the shaded tomatoes would get their time in the sun, I fed them special tonics to encourage them to grow and I gave thought to trimming back the oca bush, as that allegedly wouldn't hurt the yield with the actual eatey bit being the roots. However, I quickly came to the conclusion that that was just shifting the deckchairs around on the Titanic - the pot either had to contain oca or tomatoes, not both. I had four other oca plants growing in various places in the garden, so that made my choice for me.

What was surprising was that the oca plant came out in one piece. I expected to have to hack it to pieces to get it out, but the root ball was compact enough to fit through the hole in the plastic mulch. I was left with a relatively undamaged plant and the sheer amount of crap that fills my sheds and attics testifies to my waste-not-want-not proclivities.

Thus, the Three Sisters bed has now been transmuted to "The Three Sisters and the Mad First Wife That We Keep Locked in the Attic."

Hannibal yams. Definitely not allowed out to play with the other children.

When I first started planning the garden for this year, I considered planting an oca in this bed on the basis that it would a) need harvesting far later in the year, b) have deep roots and thus not interfere with the sweetcorn or beans and c) is supposed to be low and bushy ground cover that's perfect for keeping weeds out of the empty soil that the sweetcorn and beans have between them. I originally decided not to, on the basis of getting the Three Sisters themselves to work properly before I tried fiddling with the theory and introducing something that could potentially fuck up three other crops. However, it turns out that I'm really bad at throwing away fully grown and viable plants, so here we are - another experiment, this one fenced in to try and keep it from eating the other children. Let's see how well this one goes.

PJW

Internet fame and other setbacks

I was at a wedding party the other night and someone, in the middle of normal conversation, made a reference to "Fuck carrots, eh?" It confused the fuck out of me; I was under the impression that only a couple of friends read this, possibly out of pity (and my wife, of course, who's contractually obligated).

It turns out that it's more popular than I thought. At a party mostly full of people who I know and like, but don't get to see very often, no less than 6 people came up to me specifically to say how much they enjoyed reading about my vegetable garden online. Not entirely sure what I'm supposed to do with an audience. Hi guys - I'll try to keep doing whatever it is that makes you read this and not do the other things.

This time of the year is where the garden work switches, from sowing and cultivating seedlings, to planting things out and letting them grow and spread. I now have most of my major summer/autumn vegetables planted out in the ground and thriving.

Brussels sprouts 

Broccoli 

Experimental tomato bed and oca 

A plethora of beans - French, runner and broad from left to right. 

More oca, more French beans, some mange tout and a nasturtium

I have also planted out my leeks for the winter. If you remember last year, I learned a valuable lesson about leeks - despite being a leafy plant, the actual eatey-bit needs to be buried underground. Those who plant their leeks on the surface get lots of inedible green leaves and not very much in the way of an edible white stalk. I'm actually following the instructions and planting them in deep holes this time, so that they can be buried as they grow taller to elongate the stalk.

Thinking of things which need to be buried, I'm attempting something new with my potatoes this year, which may or may not work. In order to get the best harvest of maincrop potatoes, you're supposed to "earth-up", which basically means burying the leaves in dirt to encourage the plant to produce more potatoes higher up the stem. With the quantities of potatoes that I grow, this requires a lot of expensive dirt and a lot of backbreaking effort to apply it.

STRAW!

I did some research on the interwebs and found a lot of people claiming success with growing potatoes in straw. The idea is that the straw blocks out the light as well as dirt, fooling the plant into thinking it's underground. It's quicker, cheaper and requires a fuck of a lot less effort to apply. Plus, it has the added advantage of being easy to lift away and compost once harvesting's begun. No more digging for potatoes; now I just have to lift away the straw et voila.

At least, therein lies the theory. I'm willing to give it a go because it'll save me so much work, but I'm not convinced that it will block out the light well enough to not affect the harvest. Plus I've got trust issues with straw due to previous bad experiences. This time, I bought the straw from a local farm shop instead of pet straw, which brought its own issues. A bag was £2 and a bale was £3. I'd be a fool not to buy a bale, right?

Turns out that bales are very good value for money, as they are very heavily compressed and contain a lot of straw. The tied bale just about fit in the boot of my estate car. I put it in my shed and then cut the pieces of string that were holding it together so I could get some out. And then it just about fit in the shed. I used as much of it as I could, but I still have this much left:

Let's hope I don't need anything towards the back of that shed for another year or so.

Not a clue what I'm going to do with it.

The other disaster recently was not self-inflicted, but was instead the actions of the bloody winds that will not stop whistling about. My beautiful vertical gardening strawberry planters survived everything that nature could throw at them. Unfortunately, the fence that they were hanging from did not.

 Before

 After

After repairs. I was too upset to take a photo of what they looked like when I found them.

Thankfully, they all appear to have survived their faceplant to the concrete and I've managed to replant all of the ones that were thrown free. Whether they'll produce anything this year or be too traumatised is in the balance. I've also got my nifty vertical gardening planters, that are supposed to lift the strawberries into the sunlight and away from slugs and other pests, sitting on the ground, which is far from ideal. At some point, I'll look at finding somewhere else to hang them, but at present I just don't want to risk them going for a burton again.

Still, to end on a cheerful note, here's a picture of the vegetable garden in all its glory, lovingly stitched together from several different photographs.

PJW

Weird and wonderful vegetables

One of the aims of the gardening this year is to grow new things and in that vein, I spent yesterday planting out some sea-kale seedlings.

Sea kale is interesting, because it's one of very few vegetables that are actually native to the UK, rather than being imported from another country, yet it's actually on the verge of extinction in the wild for the crime of being too tasty. It used to grow quite freely on British shingle beaches, but the Victorians ate so much of it that it nearly died out and only the fact that it was made illegal to harvest it in the wild has let it recover.

Naturally, cool + rare + too tasty to be allowed to survive = a vegetable that I'm interested in. Although one of the risks of growing odd stuff is that tasty is a very variable concept. These are described as "creamy", "maritime" and "kind of like asparagus" (which is spectacularly unhelpful as I don't know what asparagus tastes like either!) as well as belonging to the brassica family so having some taste relation to cabbage, kale, broccoli, etc. There is the very real risk that I might put a lot of effort into growing something that it turns out I absolutely can't stand. However my last gamble on jerusalem artichokes worked out very well (which I must write up as a blog post, now that I think about it), so what the hell - sea kale it is.

I actually bought a first lot of seedlings before the winter, planted them up and was very annoyed when they died off in the first cold snap, despite having fleece jackets over them. I had bought from an online nursery that I'd never used before (as rare plants are unsurprisingly hard to get hold of from regular suppliers) and was pleasantly surprised when my complaint yielded the immediate offer to replace them when they had new seedlings in the spring.

When the replacements arrived, I took the fleece jackets off what I'd thought were the dead seedlings, only to discover that they hadn't actually died, but just died back. They had in fact bounced right back with the spring.

In my defence, every other perpetual plant behaves in exactly the same way, so how was I to know?!

I feel kinda bad about the nursery sending the replacements now, so if anyone does want any seedlings, please consider Victoriana Nurseries, who do some very interesting things like perpetual cauliflowers, samphire and giant onions.

The actual growing and harvesting of sea kale is enjoyably odd too. You grow them like rhubarb - while plants like light (expert!), these are more tender when deprived of it, as they form slender white stalks while applying the up == light formula that we're all so keen on. Therefore, I have rewarded my seedlings for surviving the winter by putting a bucket on their head.

Allegedly, that should result in this:

Lifted from https://etaiyy.wordpress.com/2012/03/25/sea-kale/

Although I don't expect to see very much in the first year. As appears to be traditional at the end of every damn blog I write at the moment, I have seedlings going spare if anyone wants to join me in odd creamy salty leafy thing that you grow like rhubarb, I can provide the goods. Although this time it's only partly due to the garden centre only selling in bulk and partly because I've accidentally defrauded them. Someone take some off my hands to help me feel less guilty?

The other new thing I'm growing at the moment is oca, otherwise known as New Zealand yams, although no-one really knows why - they're not from New Zealand (although they are popular there) and they're not yams. They're a tuber from Peru which somehow failed to take off in Europe despite coming back across at the same time as the potato.

Not my hand - lifted from http://thriftyliving.net/2008/11/20/the-mystery-veg-revealed-mystery-veg-2/

They have advantages of being much more resistant to disease, not being damaged by exposure to sunlight (in fact, they taste better if left in sunlight for a few days after harvesting), not requiring peeling and being ready to harvest late-November through December when potatoes are hard to come by. The production of tubers is actually ignited by the plants being able to sense nights being longer than days and is accelerated by the first frosts.

The taste of them varies depending on how they're prepared - straight out of the ground and raw, they are sharp, sour and tangy, but leave them in the sun for a few days and the acid starts to convert to sugar and they can be steamed or roasted like a potato or other root. Plus you can use the leaves as salad greens. As mentioned before, I don't eat many salads, but I might be tempted to try one for these.

I planted out the tubers into pots last month and I'm already getting signs of life.

Trying hard not to make the "not Swift" joke again. We already have the running joke of FuckCarrots and that one's not funny in itself!

Unlike everything else that I have bought, oca tubers are available in sensible quantities and no-one can have any! Although if these are a rousing success, then I will undoubtedly keep back some tubers to replant - the growing process is very much like that of potatoes in that you grow oca plants from planting uneaten oca tubers.

One of the major advantages of oca is that they grow massive bushy green tops, but are generally non-competitive with other plants, which makes them excellent ground-cover crops for tall plants like beans and tomatoes. I'm giving serious thought to including them as a fourth sister for my Three Sisters bed, although I'll probably leave that for another year. I should probably try to achieve actual success with the basic Three Sisters before starting to screw about with it!

As it stands, I have my tomato beds laid out for the oca to be planted into, including this masterpiece which I'm quite proud of:

This bed will be combining quite a few theories together. The red bit is plastic mulch, which has the dual effect of stopping weeds and reflecting red light at the tomatoes. The science says that tomatoes recognise red light as a sign of competition which kicks them into higher gear. The white bits are bits of PVC pipe that watering can occur through, so that the water is going down to the roots rather than sitting on the surface. The dirt is especially mixed to be right for tomatoes and in the middle (where there's no x marking the spot yet) is going to sit an oca, which is a natural anti-fungal and will help support the tomatoes.

So yes, loads of science going into this particular tub of vegetables. The actual tub itself looks kinda familiar, doesn't it, especially in the context of putting a lot of science and effort into a particular vegetable with a foolproof plan for better results. I wonder why that is...

Oh dear.

PJW