Life in the fast lane

Now Artur is happy.   I have given him a choice of lovely sleeping spots in the sun in the potting shed.   Occasional chats and strokes optional.

My potting shed is now complete.

It is cool and windy here today. Perfect weather for getting on with a mighty job of strimming lower terraces and generally making that part of the garden tidy.   But somehow or other I’m still drifting around in a happy daze reluctant to use any petrol powered devices.

I made the first batch of mirabelle jam last night. Along with a few pots of raspberry jam. I must try and get that huge volume in the freezer down to manegeable proportions in the next few weeks.

So my first job this morning, after spending cat time with A, was to look at the mirabelle trees.   There is a lot of fruit on the ground below the trees.   I can’t really use it as it’s probably wormy and waspy.   So I picked them all up and delivered them to the compost heap behind the potting shed.

Ulysse, munching on the other side of the fence, looked on greedily as I tipped the fruit in.   He is lawn mowering at Jean Daniel’s this week.   But I didn’t think the large number of plum pips would be good for his digestion.

Once the ground was clear I gave the trees a shake and down came a lovely bucket load of fruit.

I decided to do the jams in the afternoon (while I could watch the Tour de France) and started in on small but necessary tasks.

Up in my potting shed I have the most exciting germination of seedlings all year.   Cabbages and salads and beans may all be well, but nothing beats something a little different.   Can you tell what they are yet? Baby eucalyptus trees.   And the rest of the seeds have started to germinate as well.   I’m going to wait just another week and pot them on.   Baby trees in pots will probably be their destination, but the Australian plant collection has just increased.

This is the last jostaberry to be planted out. It was struck from cuttings a few years ago and I have been trying to think of where to put it.   I’ve added it to the hedge up on the road edge near the potager.   It is keeping company with some lovely sambuscus and a sturdy beech.   They are under the oak tree, but I’ve mulched like mad and will water as much as I can in the future.

Next up was to use some of that lovely mulch in my compost bin.   The miscanthus hedge is growing well where there is water.   But some of the plants are decidedly stunted and stubbon to grow.   And of course there is the embarassing one at the far left end which I accidently mowed.   It doesn’t feature in the picture.

I mulched the little ones, and gave them a good talking to. Who knows? It may help.   The lawn really needs some work. But I’ll save that for Friday I think. I have to build up my heavy duty raking muscles. And maybe find some topsoil to add to the lawn.

Next up was to do a spot of weeding on the bank in front of the house. The olive tree has heaps of small fruit, and the weeds underneath are lush indeed. I really need to rethink this area.   But first I have to have the plants. If I had all the resources at my disposal, I’d place an order for twenty more lavender grossos, and add them to this part of the garden.   But I’m going to give a go at making more for free.

So that naturally had me surging up to the potting shed (and waking up Artur, who was cross) to get my secateurs and a plastic bag.   I’ve taken dozens of cuttings of the lavender grosso which is growing quite well here on the olive bank, plus lots of verbena bonariensis and some achillea.

It’s so much fun to do.   Just imagining you will get so many growing plants for free is a great inspiration.   I was crawling about the verbena hedge (not thriving) in search of possible cuttings and noticed that there were two ripe figs on the new plant in the strawberry bed.

You can’t imagine how juicy and divine they were. So sumptuous.   I planted this fig as a tiddler two years ago, and in about ten years, this plant might just be espaliered along the entire stone wall of the potager. Or the deer will find it and eat it to the ground next week. That’s the excitement of rural gardening.

And that’s my day: all except for the jam making.

Lovely, lovely pots of mirabelle jams.