As above, so below...
No…not a horror film! I didn’t know there was one by the name of those few words (that particular genre is really not my thing!) ‘til I went a-googling for the true meaning of the proverb I couldn’t resist using by way of introducing this post! Nor am I referring to a religious, new age or astrological definition. I just couldn’t help being completely mesmerised a few evenings ago, by the exquisite colours of the sunset sky above, reflected in the glowing plumes of Macleaya Cordata below. The vision lasted but five minutes or so after that humdinger of a storm came through with winds and lashing rain…taking our power out once again.
Other than that, all was well in our earthly realm! Thank goodness for a gas cooktop - roast chook transferred from half-baked in the oven, to the heavy, lidded Le Creuset pot, and finished off on the hob sans drama and a few candles to get us through. I make sure during thunderstorm season, to always have a few bottles of our own rainwater on hand as when the power goes, so does our water supply. Needless to say I was in the shower…isn’t it always the way?!
Grapes! After bagging the half-dozen bunches or so a few weeks ago, I rather forgot about them. Once upon a time there were so many that being top of mind was inescapable, as those who have a copy of The House and Garden at Glenmore well know: I was more likely to be bagging the grapes twelve days before Christmas, than decorating the Christmas tree! Decking the verandahs with brown paper bags always seemed to coincide with that special date in the calendar, and how I loved the sight of the multitude of bags amongst the healthy vine leaves. By this time in the season, I’d literally be cutting paper bags filled with plump grapes to give away. But all that was before the possums arrived. I was bagging back then to deter birds, not possums…and on reflection, birds just ate the fruit, they didn’t kill the vine!
It’s funny…we didn’t have possum problems in the early days and even now, they seem to be very specific with their diet…choosing to decimate ‘climbers’. Hence I’ve had problems these last years with our climbing roses - all the ones I’ve gone to such lengths to grow for their romantic contribution and all of whom had reached maturity…Albertine on the Potting Shed, Cécile Brünner on the old Stables, Souvenir de la Malmaison against the laundry, Félicité Perpétue against the Barn; as well as the white wisteria on the kitchen verandah and the two grapevines we planted in the courtyard to soften the edges of that U-shape almost thirty years ago. It’s so…maddening!
Félicité does OK as I keep her growth below the roofline. Albertine you know I just hacked back severely in an attempt to get her strength up whilst I make a roof plan for the coming season. The other two roses I had to completely replace and the peculiar thing is that seemingly, while they’re small and not yet climbing, they are of little appeal to the pesky critters and both are putting on good growth. The replacement white wisteria is gathering strength and I’ve even begun tying it to the old wires this season. And the grapes? Well…we haven’t replaced the White, but the old Red Muscat is trying very hard to make a comeback, and I’m thrilled to have these few delicate bunches of intensely sweet fruit to pop…as each ripens to perfection.
The first fig! Along with the grapes…which is how the season rolls…the garden and our tastebuds completely intertwined. The colours too…are all in harmony…amplified as each evening basket lands on the kitchen bench.
No two evening collections are ever quite the same. Although some produce is on repeat day in, day out…every one of the leaves, fruit and herbs will land on our plates in a different combination, so they never seem remotely monotonous. Surely if mother nature is providing them right now, they’re what we should be eating right now?
Although the tiny amaranth leaves and fresh fennel seeds seem to have featured every day for weeks…it’s inevitable they’ll come to an end. Natural sequence gardening equals natural sequence eating: you know by now that so much of my kitchen gardening is guided by allowing plants to travel their full, natural cycle; and as a result our daily diet benefits enormously…from the vitality these beauties contribute from both a visual and digestive perspective. That they’re a daily treat for our tastebuds goes without saying…but I’ll say it anyway!
There was such a lovely crop of aubergines last week, I was tempted to make a mini Aubergine Torta. I shared the recipe last year…here’s the link to that post where if you scroll down, you’ll find it. Really, it’s hardly a recipe but use it as a guide. I find these days I’m using a lighter and lighter touch, and make in whichever baking tin might suit the quantity of aubergines I might have on hand…that is, if I bother to go to this stage without just eating the slices direct from the baking tray!
I know that in the recipe, I suggest gently pan frying the slices in batches…but I’ve come around to a better way! As ever…the garden is inclined to guide. We don’t necessarily want to eat aubergines every day and left in the fridge uncooked for more than a day or two can equal them going into decay (they’re organic!)…which I can’t bare the idea of, given the lengths I’ve gone to, to nurture and coax them to size in the first place. So it’s a better idea to cook them; and truly…I think slicing, then laying them out on a baking sheet in an oven at 180C for half an hour or so (I don’t time precisely…keep checking them…it might be 20 minutes!) is much easier than cooking them in a pan. Although I paint each slice with a good drizzle of olive oil, they seem to gobble up less of that golden substance when oven baked compared to frying. So there’s a 5 minute prep job…repeated over say two or three days with two or three aubergines as they come off the plant, and if we haven’t already scoffed them just like that, I layer them into a baking tin, with just the tiniest smattering of just-grated parmigiano…just enough to vaguely glue the thin slices together. When turned out, it resembles an eggplant mille-feuille! I made this one in a very small but high-sided tin, and although not ‘springform’; lined with a circle of baking paper on the bottom and around the sides, it slipped out when I turned it over onto a plate without any problem at all. It was the night of the storm, so I didn’t go out to pick extra herbs! It should be drizzled with basil pesto but I’m not complaining! Next time…I reckon there will be a few more of these ahead yet!
While I’m here…a menu thought: Roast Chicken with a big chunky slice of Aubergine Torta and a leafy green salad tossed with chopped cucumber and vinaigrette, all scattered with fresh fennel seeds, tiny leaf amaranth, torn mint and a smattering of thyme…makes for a very good dinner!
Remember the deep red stems of tightly budded Pineapple Lily I showed you a few weeks ago? Ever since, their tiny waxy flowers have been gradually opening, beginning at the base and finally making it to the tip. What magic they are!
There’s a great deal to be done in the ornamental garden at this time of year. Sometimes, it’s when plants are at their very best, that for the sake of their health and continuous sturdy growth, they’re best pruned. So it is with Rosemary! I’m so often asked by visitors how we keep ours in check. Often I miss the absolute right time myself - usually because it looks so enchanting and I can’t bring myself to forsake the vision! This is when one must be ruthless quite frankly…so…in the pic above you can see the lovely feathery growth behind that I’ve been so enjoying (under the citrus trees just outside the kitchen windows). The ugly flat section (behind the lavender) gives you an idea of how much growth I like to take off the top. I can hardly look at it now, but give it a couple of weeks and there will be a sea of new tips emerging, then all will be well again! It’s a big bed of rosemary…all of it grown from cuttings, and the aim was always for the orange and lemon tree trunks to be surrounded by a sea of that pungent herb. Some seasons I do the job, others I ask Thalia to do it. I did it last time, she did it this week!
Other ornamentals are at their own particular stage of rebirth, which can be quite ugly. You all know how I love the flowers of Solandra maxima, the Hawaiian vine…I know I’ve gone on about them at great length from time to time! The funny thing is, their huge, waxy yellow trumpets look for all the world like a mid-summer tropical beauty, but in fact we’re more inclined to see their flowers here in winter and spring. And so it is that right now, that vine is at its most ugly. Fortunately, it’s miserable stems of sparse, yellowing leaves are well disguised at the moment, hidden by the bounty swirling all around. Uggghhhh….poor thing, I thought to myself earlier in the week…
And then…new life! As ever, one must just be patient! The Solandra awakens to share her golden trumpets once again this year!
The reason the Solandra’s ugly cycle is so well disguised is that it’s surrounded by gingers below, frangipani overhead and the rampant vine of Burmese honeysuckle nearby, that although no longer in flower, is inclined to burst with new tendrils at this time of year.
I’ve mentioned a few weeks in a row that the Tree Gardenia, Gardenia thumbergia has thrown a few flowers to fill the air with intoxicating perfume. Well…at the weekend it simply exploded into flower…as if all its pent-up energy could be contained no longer and a profusion of pinwheel blooms erupted all at once!
I cannot begin to describe the resulting olfactory sensation…the form of each flower itself a whirl, their combined perfume enough to induce a dizzying response!
This specimen, for those who may be curious, must now be, I think 30 years old…or close to, give or take a year! I bought it (as tubestock, mail order) on a whim, on reading about its beauty in a Diggers catalogue, and thought it might be just the thing to anchor the corner of the newly forming courtyard that would occupy the space between the two ‘wings’ and ‘gallery’ we were adding to the rear of the old stone house.
When that tiny specimen arrived in the post, we were going through that ambiguous stage of living in Sydney and weekending at Glenmore (a stage we loved and loathed in equal measure, but it was a two - three year stint that had to be done!). I probably should have just taken the wee plant to Sydney, but gardening there at that time was just not on my radar…it couldn’t be. So it was that I gave this tiny sprig of a plant to a very good gardening friend, in the hope she might keep it alive. Which she did. Eventually, once the builders had cleared out and I had the opportunity to begin planting the courtyard, Tina returned my little specimen with relief, and I duly planted it in this spot…not entirely sure what the end result may become. These days it gives me a bi-annual headache as a big haircut must be undertaken…requiring ladders! I skipped it last year…which means Thalia and I have our work cut out when the time comes this year!
Still there are newly emerging treats in store that I’ve not yet mentioned in all the posts to date! I’m aware that we’ll soon come to the anniversary of a year of substack posts, thereby bringing me full circle. Where to from there? I’ll think on that when we get there!
How I look forward to the emerging spikes of Yucca flowers in the Arc. The sword-like leaves occupy such a pivotal position. It’s one of those ‘punctuation’ plants I mentioned back in the winter posts and has a weighty task to perform. Being at the corner where the Juniper hedge divides the Arc from the Barn Garden, it sits atop the drystone wall that lines the drive to the Kitchen Garden and is a focal point from various directions. Softened by the mound of Teucrium, purple flowering Heliotrope and yellow-speckled Immortelle, a favourite little seasonal vignette is about to be realised.
At the front of the old house, the Rainbow Lorikeets have vacated the flowers of the enormous Agave flower spike, where they chattered amongst themselves for weeks on end, hopping between each arm of fresh, nectar-filled flowers. The huge spike itself has cast morning shadow-play over the upstairs bathroom window…the like of which we’ve never enjoyed before and quite likely, may never experience again - given it’s been 24 years since planting in this position!
As the fresh flowers journey towards seed pods and new life above, so the giant leaves that were once so handsome, shrivel below.
Down in the Kitchen Garden, the spectacular thistle-like seed heads of purple globe artichokes have reached their pinnacle. With those fluffy seeds literally taking off, it’s time to cut the stems holding the spent flowers aloft…
As down below, new leaves are taking shape. It’s a cycle I’m happy to encourage…part of me feels that in allowing free reign to the artichokes to complete their cycle, regrowth is the reward. At least that’s how it seems. Over the years I’ve noticed that if I cut the stems early, I’m unlikely to be rewarded with regrowth. Whereas if I leave them, it’s almost certain new growth will emerge…as and when the plant is ready. How often have I suggested patience is a prerequisite for gardening? All in good time…may be an old-fashioned adage, but it’s certainly rings true in so many instances…not just in gardening terms.
The Kitchen Garden kept me busy over the weekend (once I’d finished pruning the roses in the Field!). It’s a tenuous moment…I don’t want to lose the wild…and yet, there’s no doubt plenty of spent material truly needed to be removed. Each specimen (and you may laugh cos sure…we’re talking carrots, fennel, chard!) needs to be evaluated: Is it feeding us? Is it feeding or providing shelter for good bugs? Is it providing useful shade to its companions…or overshadowing and reducing airflow? Is it still visually beautiful, even if journeying towards a state of decay and rebirth? Or is it detrimental to the effect?
I can see some of you rolling your eyes and can only imagine what many may think! I care not! For me…it’s a systematic and pleasurable way of working through the garden…a gentle task of care and nurture…easing the garden onwards to the next phase which will soon be upon us. Along the way I discover all kinds of thrills…mating ladybirds, exquisite dragon flies (there’s one with a fire-engine red ‘body’), burrowing blue flower wasps, newly germinating seed, complex basket-like capsules of seed heads…and all the while as I work gently away, the atmosphere is bathed in a dusty, honey-like aroma, the result of drying fennel seeds and tansy flowers combined.
Once I was done, the plants that require most space and airflow now were the ones most visible, liberated from the smothering of too many nearby stems: the tomato plants hitting their stride and displaying a bounty of burgeoning fruit; the zucchini leaves filling out and sending leaders to the north while harbouring newly formed fruit at their centres. The cucumbers, aubergines, corn and at last…some twirling bean vines that I hope will soon, although rather late to the party, produce abundant pods!
The once pretty yellow parsnip flowers that were dancing under the Quince tree down the back just a short while ago, have evolved to seed - a telling sign we’re entering a new phase.
And as I pushed the barrow back and forth, Sibyl puss sat transfixed…
What a gardening-filled post to bring this idle month of January to a close. It must be time for the cogs to begin whirring once again!
I’ll look forward to catching you next week.
With warmest wishes
Mickey x
Productive garden notes:
Eating from the garden:
Potatoes, onions, garlic, cucumbers, aubergine, zucchini, coloured chard. Lettuce, rocket, leaf amaranth and a mountain of newly germinated micro spinach and chard leaves. Grapes! Figs! The very first little yellow pear tomatoes. Basil, lovage, mint, rosemary, thyme, chives, fresh fennel seed, fennel pollen. I probably shouldn’t have picked the asparagus I did…a chance eruption of spears after the downpours, they ought to be left to grow into their ‘fern-like fronds’ to strengthen the crown but I simply couldn’t resist - a dozen made such a delicious accompaniment to Wednesday’s omelette!
Going / gone: fennel pollen, micro leaf amaranth
Seed saving: parsnip, beetroot, spinach, chard, parsley, land cress
Sowing: I took the stems of land cress with its dried out seed pods in tact and laid them down where I intend to plant brassicas in a few weeks time. Equally, I took some of the ripe parsley seed, still attached to its stems too, and laid it down where I like the idea of having the next row of parsley, in what will become the autumn/winter root veg bed.
Planting: Mentioned last week I was tempted to pot up some of the newly germinated chard seedlings but on second thought, and on looking up the chart in Phoebe’s Almanac, I decided to wait for this weekend’s designated ‘leaf’ days and might instead sow some of the seed I collected into punnets. I also want to pot up some of the tiny leeks sprouting from a flower head I left growing down the back!
Ornamental garden notes:
Picking for the house: Roses, magnolias, frangipanis, tansy, dahlias, Cottonwood hibiscus, jasmine, gardenia thunbergia and ginger…
Perfumes and aromas: frangipani, murraya, Chinese star jasmine, magnolia, summer wisteria, fig leaf, rose, Gardenia thunbergia, nicotiana. The dusty aroma of fennel flowers drying to seed still permeates the kitchen garden and will do for many, many weeks ahead.
Pruning and other: I took to row two in the Field and so the Gallica, Alba, Centifolia, Damask and Bourbon roses have all be pruned back to new growth. As well as the numerous Quatre Saisons behind the Dairy (I’ve been increasing the original’s size by ‘pegging-down’ over the years) and the two other special Damask rose specimens whose stories I’m saving for a relevant moment! I tackled the David Austin row too, which is still being eaten by whatever animal is fixated with its new growth and buds, and then deadheaded the row of Rugosas…they didn’t need such a heavy prune but all four rose rows are now up to date. Subsequently on Tuesday (to make good use of the opportunity the previous evening’s downpour provided) I scraped back all the mulch, fed, watered and replaced the mulch of all four rose rows - with help from Thalia in fluffing back up two rows! The heat was stifling so I sent Thalia off to cut back the long shoots that had shot up on the Pomegranate hedge that was in the shade, while I was determined to complete the final two rows in anticipation of further rain that afternoon no matter the heat. Sadly the rain didn’t eventuate! Oh well. At least I completed the job and I just couldn’t devote another day to the garden this week! Thalia has since cut back the rosemary under the citrus (see above), the rose geranium and plumbago in the Hayshed, the rose geranium at the corner of Glenmorenstoren down the back and is about to tackle the Phormium in the Borders which need reducing in size…yet again!
Do you really have a walled garden Sally? How utterly divine. I'm sure you do miss the time you once did tending...but I bet you're an expert at giving directions! Watering...I think is one of the most nurturing things you can do - for the garden and for you...it requires close inspection and attention, and you are well-rewarded for your efforts. I do understand your fear of falling - that trip I had late last year was not a good experience - I go a little more slowly on that path now as a result. Mx
I love this Kathleen! Mxx