At the other end of the garden the beans are in all their glory. So many pods that I actually cut an entire bucketful of beans.
And the flower patch is looking lovely. I find it hard to cut everything for the vases, but understand now why Sarah Raven called it a cutting patch. You have to be ruthless and accept that everything you plant should be Flowers For The House.
And what of the potatoes? Well, it has been a bumper year with all this rain and I have all of the pink fir potato crop still to go (if they don’t get attacked by blight or slugs). I wish I could weigh the amount I dug up today, but I had to use the wheelbarrow to get them to the car which should tell you that all is well on the carbohydrate front in the family. Washing them was a laborious task. But I wanted to leave them in good condition in their Hessian sack over the summer.

To accompany the potatoes and beans I actually picked a few beetroot for dinner (small size, but so juicy) and lifted three small carrots just for the fun of it. They certainly thrive in their wooden wine box with soft compost. But I don’t think they will get enough water over the summer to create a crop in September.

There is also kale and salad in abundance and the parsnips and celeriac have survived their hard start and are putting on growth.

The cucumbers need tying in – they will be ready in August, so I mustn’t plant them again next year in the London garden. There is a growing list of proscribed vegetables now. The corn is also a wasted effort. They will be woody or even absent by the time I return. And the tomatoes will be slug fodder only. Just one small tomato was ripe this week, not enough to warrant all that work.

I was musing on all this waste as I did a few last laps of the long garden. The sunflowers right at the end of the plot in front of the water butts have reached waist height and as I was admiring them I moved over and cut even more French beans that I didn’t spot the first time. Just changing the angle of your viewing reveals more produce. Perhaps I should plant purple ones next year.

And that brings to an end the first half of the year’s garden work. I felt a bit guilty for leaving everything to the mercies of the London weather for a whole month. There will be a mountain of weeds to tackle when I return. But at least so many crops have been a success. If I was ruthless I would only grow broad beans, peas, potatoes and perhaps some early French beans next year. I need to concentrate on getting the other garden going. And just four crops is more than enough.

One other discovery I made, apart from the difficulty of planting the rows too close together, is that the reason you blanch the peas in boiling water for a minute is not just to lock in the sweetness. It’s to kill the little grubs. Every twenty or so peas there would be one with some little white grubs, cross and crawly at being disturbed. I’m sure everyone who has gobbled peas raw has had a few of them; but as my family would say – it’s only protein.

As I didn’t plant the peas in the black weed-proof fabric, it has been a haven for bindweed and other meaty weeds too. And I have neglected their care. Too easy to snap off a pea on your way past to worthier tasks than to get down on your hands and knees and creep between the rows to tidy up. But today I knew I had to get up as many of the crop as possible as I would be away for almost two weeks. So it was don the kneelers, drag the bucket and work down the rows. And I must say it is so much fun – you go up a row, diligently plucking peas, and believe you have cropped the lot. Then your hand brushes a plant and you find yourself touching a batch of yet more plump peas. Perhaps I really should plant the purple ones next year for easy detection.

The day was a sociable one. Sotaris was there. He has dismantled the shed (evidence of huge rubbish heap on the plot – galvanized iron, wood, window frames, all in a jumble) and built the foundations for a new one. Luckily its dimensions are modest. To the relief of all our neighbours. He had rather built up a grand picture of a shed, a lawn, deck chairs and a barbeque. That all may still happen, but at least the new shed will not encroach on our Vietnamese neighbours. Sotaris does tend to talk to me when I am more than fifty feet away tying in tomatoes or sorting out the artichoke seedlings, and I have to strain to hear what he is asking. But apart from that he is friendly. If full of advice. 

Mick came up to see my progress. I suspect he is a bit miffed that Sotaris (the new old kid on the block) is around, and like an old rooster in the hen house, he is determined to elicit loyalty from his little hens. Actually I think I am his only hen. The rest of the allotment seems to get on well without him; but he does have great conversations with his neighbour Mick, and the committee members. And I have valued his advice over the past two years.

Rino was his tanned and busy self. For a man who starts work each day at 3am he is always very cheerful around lunchtime. He fades soon afterwards. But not before telling me that his pea crop was a disaster and the slugs got to his potatoes. My pea crop would have been a disaster too if I didn’t keep topping up with root trainer-grown replacements all through the month of March and occasional ring-ins from Homebase.

Alas I didn’t have time to chat with Oswaldo. He hailed me just as I was dashing to the car. Sad that I didn’t have time to tarry – I needed to get to the paint shop in Camden before it shut – but I did want to tell him that the mint he gave me was a success. Anyone can grow mint I know; but it is so lush and bushy next to the rhubarb leaves. And once the rhubarb has gone over around now, it does leave a rather forlorn gap among the potatoes. So let it romp away I say. At least it is easy to pull out.

The main task of the day before the great 2007 pea harvest was to cut the grass. Strimming duty. My little petrol motor was put to good use as I did not only my paths (about an hour’s work) but Rino’s and the derelict plot on the way to the car park as well. An Italian friend of Rino’s has taken over the plot that really is a blight on the landscape between Mick’s manicured lawn and my own almost neat one. But Rino did warn me that the Italian gentleman isn’t a very robust man, and probably will wait for winter before he starts. Waist high weeds and lots of bindweed. I could see that nobody was going to cut it. Inertia being the order of the day when it comes to other people’s plots. That and grumbling. So I decided to wade in and start.

Actually I just think of it as making up for my shocking neglect of paths last year. Mine, I recall, were in a similar state until we hired a huge industrial strimmer and spent a day beating back the weeds. So lots of accumulated brownie points for a few hours work. No blisters, but an aching back.

Other delights (once I stopped sneezing after disturbing and distributing all that grass seed and pollen) was to tie in the roses that are growing by the shed. These are my ones that came from the roof terrace in Primrose Hill. Madame Alfred Carrière. Chosen after much perusal and agonising from the David Austin Rose catalogue a few years back. (I’m perusing again for the new garden in France.) They are putting on plenty of growth, and may even produce flowers once the verticals reach the roof and start to become horizontals. No sign of any lilies yet. I seem to recall they are August croppers (when we are away) but at least there are no lily beetles on them right now. Four pots of tall growth, I just have to hope the rain keeps up in the next two weeks or they will get parched. Similar wishes for the artichoke seedlings and Australian plants. I have asked Sotaris to take a look at them while I’m away (he volunteered) but I just don’t know if he will.

The first tomato of the year has appeared on one of the cordons. A small cherry tomato of the yellowish blush. I’m afraid I didn’t take it home to proudly show off and mark up as a milestone in the allotment gardening calendar. I just stuck it in my mouth and chomped down with a swift chew. Delicious.

The lemon verbena shrub doesn’t seem to loathe its new position. It is putting on enough bushy growth to enable me to pluck a bunch of leaves each time I shut up the door for the last time each day. They dry in no time, and go straight into their tea infusion bags at home.

I was actually a bit reluctant to leave. I had tidied the interior of the shed (rain squall just after the pea picking) and the crops are all at that interesting and fruitful stage. It could be neater. There could be less weeds on the path. But it isn’t at all bad. And as I also harvested my body weight in Charlottes and red Duke of York potatoes you could call it a success.

Sotaris was sitting on a bag of sand at the entrance when I came in. Those of us with isolated plots have to endure deliveries at the entrance and then bring everything in with a wheelbarrow. And it’s no fun at all. (She says trying to explain why she isn’t manuring her crop every autumn with a huge load of horse manure from an outlying farm.)

Sotaris has Great Plans for a new shed and a new greenhouse. If you were feeling negative you would say he was muscling in. My Vietnamese neighbour on the other side of Sotaris’s plot was looking worried when he described how big his shed was going to be.  And the greenhouse will gobble up the space between my shed and his. But frankly, I don’t mind. He is energetic and a bit bossy and will be a valuable neighbour for as long as I hold the plot.  I have no idea how long that will be. One part of me thinks I can still just do potatoes, broad beans and peas.  Harvest everything rather early, and then move on to the French garden. We shall see.

It was rather windy, so the first task was to tie in the tomatoes. They have survived their frost damage and are all putting on rather good growth. Each one needed tying in and tidying up. This part of the plot is also where I put in the herbs. The marjoram and parsley are fine. The rocket has bolted (no surprise there) and the basil is sulking but may yet take a turn for the better.

This is also where I planted the artichokes. And they have endured a slug battering while I was away. Even with slug pellets. I think I’m missing a few. (Which is about as technical as you can get when you don’t keep meticulous planting charts.)  Mind you so many weeds have grown up in the planting holes that I can’t quite see where things are.  I need to have a good weeding session on Friday just to get things back in order. Brambles are peeping up through the gaps in the weed suppressing fabric as well. Oh naïve and distant season when I thought these might be pretty roses inherited from the previous tenants.  Now I know they are pernicious and have no artistic merit whatsoever.

Once the tomatoes were tied in it was time to haul out my father-in-law’s potato breeder Hessian sack and get on with harvesting. On the menu today – peas and broad beans and a few rows of potatoes.  One learns with experience to pull down when picking off the heavy broad bean pods. You can yank out an entire plant in your zeal to get at a juicy pod low down. And greed does come into it. I just love the flavour of these young broad beans. But you have to wait to cook them before you can gobble them. Not so the peas. Talk about a luscious lunch. I ate more than was decently accepted – never invite me to pick your own farms. I would scoff more than I put in the basket. But as these are the fruit of my own labour, I felt no compulsion to slow down. But plenty went into the bag. And I even managed a few French beans from the bean pole. This is definitely a crop to avoid next year. Too many of them come to ripeness (fruition?) in August when we are away. And the effort in coaxing them to life, making the bean pole, squishing the black fly and stopping the slugs from eating them far outweighs their delight. But the sweet peas I planted between the beans are cropping. The honey scent of a sweet pea can’t be missed. And I tied them in more securely as they are straying from their supports.

Next it was on to my largest crop; the spuds. And it is now truly a race against the slugs. They are crawling all over the area. And why not? Lush growth, lots of rain, plenty of places to hide. I dug up two rows of tubers, one row of Maris Pipers and one of red Duke of York. And found at least three slugs in and around the soil for every single plant. But the yield from just these two rows was one bucket full of lovely potatoes. I brought the heavy bucket home and dumped a huge amount of water over the top. Cleanliness? No I knew there were some slugs lurking there and wanted them to rise to the top before I plunged my hands in and groped amongst the clay and spuds. Two came up and were sent to the bin.

I cooked the now slug-free potatoes later in the evening, and they were so soft that the first batch over -cooked in just ten minutes. The red Dukes of York did well in the lentil and lamb salad. But they really are better roasted. Then they taste as though you have slathered them in butter and are fluffy beyond belief. I can’t wait to see if the Charlottes have survived the slug fest.

Other discoveries; the little plants of strawberries are ripening and haven’t been devoured. And I have lots of flower buds in my ‘cutting garden’ poised to open.

First job was to plant all those little huddled plants. No slug attack, and they seem to have survived the night well in their rather crushed surroundings. When I potted the artichokes up (Violetta di Chioggia  and Gros de Laon) I naturally had one label for all five on separate trays. And now they are all muddled about and who on earth knows which is which. I really must learn to be less careless with my labelling as it may throw up some rather inappropriate surprises. And in fact I was thinking that as I stood back from planting eight artichokes near the tomato bed. One of them looked suspiciously cabbage like. And if I had paid more attention to maths classes when young I would have realised that when one gets 10 artichoke plants one doesn’t end up with eleven little seedlings in eleven little holes.

Three artichokes are under the apple trees (well spaced) and the rest (plus rogue cabbage which will be attacked by cabbage moth, pigeon and slug as it is not under netting) are towards the top of the plot closer to the shed. They are such fast growing creatures, I am hoping they will put on growth without the need for nets. Ten days will prove me right or wrong. But I just don’t have any more nets to spare. Two nets went on the parsnip seedlings. They were frankly a bit too small to plant out in the place where the celeriacs used to be. But as it was a bonus they germinated at all, I’m going to risk it. And they have their little poison circles to try and evade a bit of the food chain.

Next to the parsnips (and also under nets) went seven salad plants that I sowed from a mixed pack of seeds. And two flower seedlings that have been mooching about in jiffy pots for long enough. I like my little flower garden in the middle of the plot. It is a bit regimented and orderly, but it looks set to produce a good crop of pretties. One of the flowers (a white antirrhinum) is already in flower and just waiting impatiently for another few to pop up so they can serve their duty in vases at home. The staking with pea netting about a foot from the ground seems to be working. It isn’t pretty, but it seems to deter the birds.

The sunflowers will do their sentry duty hiding the wheelie bins I hope. They are strong little growers in their pots and I planted out seven behind the bean poles. And just to complete my over-enthusiastic crop planting dreams – I even planted up three little cucumber plants in the very holes where their predecessors were massacred. They have gone in with a bit more protection. And I have about six more growing as seedlings on the roof terrace at home.

The sweet peas are finally growing. Very late this year compared to last when I actually sowed them early and got them going much faster. But they are putting on enough growth to warrant being tied in. The nasturtiums that I planted next to the celery plants are putting on lovely growth. I was sort of hoping to use them as a sacrifice crop for the blackfly; but they are so lush and pretty (a dark crimson flower) that I may end up putting in as much work saving them as I am doing with the broad beans.

A bit of watering of the climbing beans and cucumbers; and then it was time to sit down on an upturned clay pot and have my lunch. On the menu – last night’s salad of new potatoes, freshly picked broad beans, a few leaves of lettuce, olives and poached chicken. Bliss. The potatoes are so much creamier than the ones you buy. But I really can’t tell the difference between just picked broad beans and the ones I buy frozen all year round. The skins are a bit thinner perhaps. But you still have to slip the grey skins off if you want to be rewarded with that piercing green of the bean underneath.

I picked more beans and the first mangetout for freezing and removed the growing flowers from the spinach I transplanted from their inappropriate old growing position. The plants are growing way too well and keen to set seed. I don’t really know if it will be a viable crop, but they have served so well in the hungry gap in providing us with a meal of good but robust spinach leaves that I’m loathe to cut them right back and hope they grows again. The mint next to the spinach is safely settled and doesn’t seem to mind being transplanted from Oswaldo’s garden.
 
The sun was still blazing when I realised that there was nothing more to plant. I could be useful in the shed and actually do a bit of tidying away of the pots and such; but I will leave that for a downpour of rain when I have to lurk in there and wait for the shower to pass.

I think the allotment can be left for ten days. Things look rather lovely and I felt a pang when I realised that it is going to become the real Cinderella of land in my affections from now on. It can’t compete with France.

Back at home I blanched and then froze the broad beans and peas – my first excess crop in the freezer and realised that the garden has done the job I set out to achieve back last January when I took it on; it has become the food factory.

It sounds like he is a methodical man. He wants to clear all the soil, turn it, lime it, and cover it this year. And get on with building sheds and all sorts of structures in preparation for the full growing season in 2008. It is hot work in the sun turning the soil so I admired his progress; he has dug over almost 70 feet. He didn’t stay long. He had been digging since 6am he proudly boasted. So I left him to his lunch and started up the plot for an inspection.

As I suspected: no more celeriac and no more pumpkin plants. The corn looks a bit battered, but is still extant.

I brought with me from home the little parsnip seedlings that have finally surprised me by germinating, plus the artichoke plants and a few cabbage plants that were slow to get growing but were romping away in their little pots.

You wouldn’t believe that we had three inches of rain on this garden last week. Today the plants still in pots look positively parched. I watered the little Australian seedlings, and threw buckets of water at the lilies. They are putting on good growth, and if the lily beetles don’t come back, they may even make it to the flower stage.

I planted out the few climbing beans that have been safely stored on the potting table behind the shed, and the five acanthus mollis plants that I bought from Sarah Raven’s mail order catalogue. The only real success among a poor lot of plants. The artichokes were in such a state they gave me ten more. And the replacements ones were positively moribund. I have potted them up in the absurd belief that they may revive. And I don’t even dare mention the state of the euphorbia oblongata seedlings. They were little more than pinkie finger high, floppy from being pot bound and deprived of light, and only three are even going to graduate into little pots. I stupidly thought I was buying plants. Her books are inspirational, and her ideas are fine, but her mail order is a disaster. Remind me not to be lured into spending good money on dreams again. )

I planted the climbing beans in the middle pole area. That was my main growing area last year, but I think it will be best to have two bean plots as I can spread the slug and snail risk around. Only four beans so far for eight poles. A bit poor, but we shall see if I brave planting any seeds directly into the soil.

I have planted the first row of potatoes in the bed quite close to the poles. So I decided to pull up the closest plant that risks overshadowing the early growth of the beans. And you know how it is: it’s like a treasure hunt. Just a peak you promise yourself at the soil under the plants to see how the potatoes are going, and you end up digging and digging and unearthing utter gems. The first row are Maris Pipers and of quite a chunky new potato size. I couldn’t resist having a go at the next plant in the row. Up it came and into my produce bag went the first good crop of the year. About 15 new potatoes, thin of skin and plump with last week’s watering and with some good London soil clinging to the outside.

The weeds have sprouted mightily around the new tomato and herb area. So I hauled out the hoe for its first season’s outing. Naturally I was far too rushed and almost decapitated the head of a lustily growing rocket plant (what was I thinking?), but the rest survived my enthusiastic work.

I hesitated briefly about the slug pellets – an innocuous white instead of the Danger Poison Blue ones, but there’s no getting around the fact I have Given In. I put them around the climbing beans and the flowers and would have put them around the newly planted artichokes if I hadn’t looked at my watch and stood aghast at the time. Almost 2pm. How did that happen? Sadly I had to place all the little artichokes in a huddle (a sort of cordon sanitaire) and pour a little slug pellet crystal wall around them. Wishing them luck I thought I should just have a look at the broad beans on my way home.

Bag in hand, mind on what is waiting at home; I felt around the base of one of my sturdy broad bean plants and found the long bean pods to be positively plump. Aha, new potatoes and broad beans on the same menu methinks. I pulled about 30. So much fun. This is the payoff for all that scrabbling about and weeding and digging and watering and sowing.

So it’s back to square one. Sow the seeds and hope that I don’t miss the growing season entirely this year. It’s enough to drive an organic gardener to the poisons shelf in the garden centre. I have placed netting over the last remaining celeriac plants. They do look rather forlorn. Luckily the corn next to the celeriac bed has taken off and looks like it will survive any attacks. But I wish I didn’t have to lose so much of my crop.

The weather has been so cool that my tomato plants are huddling. But the broad beans have put on a lot of growth. I may even have a crop soon. Just need to wait for the little pods to swell. Flowers on the peas, some flowers on the potatoes, some of the cabbage may just make it.

I watered like mad and checked over all the little seedlings on the potting table. They all seem fine.

Sorry this is all so desultory. I wrote detailed notes about what happened this trip and have misplaced them. So I’m making it up one week too late. And in that week a fantastic amount of rain has fallen. Over three inches I believe – I was away. But freezing cold too, which will have checked any growth that may have been hoped during this early growing season. I haven’t time today to go up and inspect. It’s most frustrating not being able to get there, but I have another trip to take Friday, and won’t be able to go up before Tuesday. Well into June. Talk about a part-time gardener.

My plants from Sarah Raven arrived by post: some battered and fading, and all definitely too small to risk planting out. Lots of artichokes and plump pretty perennial flowers. I would go outside to where they are getting their sun kicks and read the labels, but it’s just too far for one in a lethargic state.

The good news is that there is even more activity on my neighbouring plot. About 20 feet of soil has been turned over – and it may mean that they are going to plant this year. Thank goodness. The march of bindweed over the bed and onto the path and into my climbing beans was becoming relentless. Perhaps on Tuesday I will go up and meet the mystery gardener.

I have lost yet another cucumber – making a mockery of the elaborate climbing frames I have put up for the plants. And just to really slap me in the face with a grubby gardening glove – I even found lily beetle down at the lily pots. Grrrr.

On the good side I can say that the potatoes are fine (even though there is even a bit of slug damage on the leaves – they leave the tell tale slug slime trail), the flowers are all fine, so too the strawberries and little celery plants. My herbs are still there, but the pumpkins are looking battered. The peas are romping away – even the ones I planted recently. And the broad beans are putting on growth. And black fly. But the ladybirds are trying their best to eat their way through them. And if I wanted to be reassured that all is not lost I just have to look at the onion bed. All fine there.

I went to the shed and tried to think what to do. First course was to water the plants and hope that the ailing pumpkin and cabbage could fend off the pests with good growth. And I squished as many black fly off the beans (making sure not to hurt the ladybirds) as I could.

I even resorted to an ‘organic’ bug killer product to save the rest of the broad beans. I was squirting away when Mick came up to inspect my plot and tell me that he has sprayed some of the neighbour’s plot. He then pointed out the most glaringly obvious change in the plot next door. Someone has chopped the big overgrown shrub down. In my dismay about my crops I didn’t even notice. But that is good news: I don’t know if it is the absent Charlotte, but it does mean that someone intends to do something to the wasteland next door.
I checked my little potting table for any signs that the slugs have found the juicy climbing beans that are too small to be planted out. (Too small? I don’t know if I dare plant them out at all? Can’t I just keep them in a pot and save them this unnecessary ‘pruning’ by all the grubs known to gardeners?) And everything looks fine there. The grevillea really is poorly, but I’m hoping that its new growing medium will help it along.

I sowed the dwarf French beans in all the holes left by the missing plants, pushed in extra ones around the poles. And then added a few sunflower seeds for good measure. I suspect they won’t thrive in my tough old soil, but at least I can fool myself they are a backup measure for the ones I have grown in pots and thought I would plant out later. Now I’m not so sure.

So in all, not a happy visit. To cheer myself up I donned heavy gloves and secateurs and had a good old chop at the brambles growing through the fence and into Janet’s flower garden a few yards down from my shed. Felt better after that.  And I went home with the car scented with a handful of lemon verbena I plucked from the bush. Plus some sage leaves for dinner tomorrow night and two (count ’em two) French beans from one of my plants. It won’t quite make a salade niçoise but at least I can say I have harvested something.

My rest of the garden is gorgeous if I must boast. Full of lush growth. And on the death count it’s slugs three corn plants, gardener 17.  But that’s not as bad as last year. I also think a bird pulled off one of my cucumber plants in a search for nesting material. It’s a clean break of quite a lot of cucumber plant, so I can’t blame slugs for that one. But they did eat the other one earlier this week. I only have three plants left. Must do more.

Pause there in writing up my notes as I do exactly that. Two pots of Burpless Tasty Greens coming soon to a south facing window near you.

I then started on the mess at the water butts. This is to be a newly clean area after my slime work yesterday; and I pulled out all the plastic bags that used to hold bark chips and compost, and stuffed them into a black bin bag. (They would have to go back to South Kensington to be disposed of – the allotment skip is late again.) And amazingly, the area looked transformed. Not quite worthy of a photo; there’s only the nerdy who could feign interest in the sight of two wheelie bins filled to the brim with water and a head-high stack of compost in the bins behind, all framed by a big apple tree. The big old wooden compost bins are rather rickety. God help me if they collapse under the weight of this year’s garden discards. I’ve spent way too much money already this year on compost and bark. No funds for fripperies such as decently constructed compost bins.

At 1030am I went up to the street to let in David and Kevin and the sun decided to make an appearance as well.  All three were welcome and we had fun touring about the huge allotment site – something I never do as I always make a beeline for my own patch of land.

Wildlife was, ahem, rather in abundance. Standing watching David photograph the cabbages at my Vietnamese neighbours’ plot Kevin and I saw something climb through the fence beside my plot, creep over to my tomatoes and get stuck into the oatmeal around the base of the plants. Ah, a squirrel, I thought. But no. It didn’t have a bushy tail and I think the species is actually called Big Scary Rat. Huge. It spooked quite easily, but took two stones to get rid of it and I didn’t see it again that afternoon – but I’m sure it is feasting when my back is turned.

As it came from behind the fence in the neighbouring houses, I can’t do anything about it. There are way too many holes and gaps in that fence to keep wildlife, of all varieties, out. So naturally it did make me wonder whether putting down oatmeal is a big mistake.

But then there’s the rub. Slugs or rats? What a dilemma. Everyone seems to be liberally applying the slug pellets after all this rain. Even the club secretary who I thought wasn’t a believer in poisons has the little blue pellets all over his 30 or so potato varieties. We were making our way over to his plot when we saw our next bit of London wildlife – a large fox. It casually loped away in front of us – bold as you please in the middle of the day.

It was rather fun to range about over the whole site again – lots of healthy broad beans and artichokes everywhere, and some tremendous weeds. We visited Oswaldo’s plot which is bursting with life and nesting birds. He has offered me some artichokes – and I may take him up on the offer. Rino has promised me some, but I get the feeling they are not forthcoming. Poor Rino – I hope he doesn’t think me a bad neighbour by turning down his generosity. It is probably a language barrier – but offers in January just haven’t materialised and the growing season is getting on. First it was the tomatoes from Paddy and now the artichokes. I will strim his paths for him as I know he doesn’t have a strimmer next time I’m up and the grass is dry. It may mollify him somewhat for the slight he must feel for my accepting Other People’s Vegetables.

Once the visitors left it was time to get on with planting out the celeriac plants. They are going next to the corn (I will worry about shading from tall corn stalks only if they survive their infancy slug attack). Twenty little plants all grown from seed; quite lovely things. I mulched them with bark chips and placed as many beer traps as possible around the outside. Maybe the rat is enjoying the liquid refreshment I provide after the rather mouth-drying oatmeal.

Next it was on to the messy bit at the back of my shed. Rino arrived as I was hauling the pots about. No mention of artichokes, but he has kindly given me some celery seedlings. I have planted them next to the broad beans and wished them luck. They look so lush I would have been tempted to eat them myself. Hopefully they will get a bit more growth on before succumbing to whatever will ail them.

It’s the reason why I have eschewed strawberry plants in the past; I never imagined they would survive long but I have decided to give them a try. The ones at Marsanoux are so plump and abundant, it would be lovely to try and recreate the fruity explosion here. I only planted out six of them (all in flower) so we shall see.

I had rescued a big door shutter from the skip outside the climbing centre the night before and decided it would do nicely for a potting table that I wanted to create behind my shed. Bending down and potting things at a crouch inside the shed is just no fun. And it couldn’t look any worse than some of the frankly hideous structures dotted around the plots. And besides, recycling is much more satisfying. I didn’t have any table legs, or trestles, so decided to use upturned plant pots instead. Out came all the heavy soil from the pots (hurting back in process which is rather smarting today) and I planted out the Australian clematis plant that had been sulking in one of the pots for many years. With luck it will revive and grow up onto the roof of the shed.

The table is now chest high and a perfect place for me to plant and propagate and store seedlings and generally pretend I have a greenhouse. I potted the leptospermum (an Australian tea tree) into a better compost than the one it has been in (John Innes 3, Ericaceous compost and perlite) and hope it will improve. It actually has flower buds on it for the very first time, so if the shock of being transplanted doesn’t kill it, I may even get pretty white flowers this spring.

Now the only pots left are the three healthy lily plants, a pot of pinks from Oswaldo, two pots of hellebores, and the sage. Far better than the dozen or so that were there before. Damp pots inspire slugs and I did have to kill some monsters (quickly) as I moved them about. I will use some of the empty pots to pot up more carrots. The one wine box of seedlings I have started has some lovely growth.

One may wonder why I don’t use slug pellets when I am more than happy to dispatch the creatures when I see them. But the thought of adding poisons to the plot – which may get into the food chain by birds eating poison slugs or just sitting in the soil doesn’t please me. I know a lot of people use the nematode worm to control them. I did try that rather expensive procedure last year; but it has no effect on the travelling slugs that can move over from the neighbour’s derelict plot. The worst of the slug damage is always on the perimeter.

Enough of death, onto life: I can also see tiny seedlings appearing where I planted the radish seeds; bright red just like the finished product. Beside these I planted out three basil seedlings, plus some thyme, oregano and mint. Quite the little Mediterranean garden.  I could hardly drag myself away from the now much tidier and organised plot. But there is another garden that needs my attention (on paper at least – I’m teaching myself how to map out the garden using scale and triangles and lots of colourful pens). So it was home in yet another rain shower, but felt satisfied that I’m weed free and neat for at least a week.
 

My first task once I had raced to the shed to get my rain gear on was to tie extra rows of twine on the bean poles. The ones at the end of the plot in front of the wheelie bins are finally putting on growth. I did manage to mix up the climbing and the dwarf ones (as I suspected) when I hurriedly planted them out. So I do have some interesting heights. But it shouldn’t matter too greatly. I have just one climbing bean amongst the dwarf ones in the main bed. And I placed a taller cane beside it, and tied it in for support.  With luck the climbing beans I planted out on Sunday would romp up the canes as well.

I had plenty of red kale, black Tuscany kale and cabbage seedlings that have been crowding the roof terrace. They aren’t hulking beasts, but I thought it best to plant them out as well now that I had all the time. They are all in their neat rows in the brassica bed – easily the largest part of the garden beside the potatoes. And all under the black plastic and the mulch. You can see patches of black through the bark chip mulch, so you couldn’t fool anyone into thinking it’s a normal allotment plot with carefully hoed beds and neat weed-free rows. But so far it is working. The only real weeding that needs doing is between the pea rows where I didn’t put down this much mulch. Lots of little potato seedlings are coming up from last year’s potato crops there. Not in the right place and very small, and irksome when they appear between your broad beans and your peas.  I don’t have the heart to yank them up just yet – maybe next week. Who knows, I may get a first little crop of very early last year lates for free.

On Saturday I had my first ‘go’ at the Australasian Plant Society’ away day. It was fun to meet like-minded gardeners keen on Australian plants. Mind you I was such a new girl when it came to plants. And a very junior gardener when compared with their astounding knowledge. But they were all very friendly and helpful. And Judy Clark was particularly keen for me to take lots of her little seedlings for the future garden.  I am now the proud owner of my first Australian garden plants:

Prostanthera cuneata (Alpine mint bush)
Callistemon citrinus (two little plants)
Banksia integrifolia
Grevillea barklayana
Plus a leuchadendron seedling (that’s an African protea) and a mystery plant which may or may not be an Arthropodium cirratum (a New Zealand rock lily)

I have high hopes for the mint bush; it’s meant to be a good ground cover plant and may do for Marsanoux. Judy did warn me that it may suddenly die, but hopefully I can get quite a few good cuttings from this one plant and build up a good stock.

The little Banksia plant is tiny, but it may grow well, and the grevillea is in sore need of the right compost. It is palely loitering right now in its pot. I have the formula for all these plants: ericaceous compost, plus John Innes Number 3 soil, plus grit. Shall do that this week. If I’m to get this Australian garden going in France, the propagating and potting on has to start now.