Well...hello!!
Where are we going on today’s weekly ramble together my friends? Possibly not much further than the kitchen garden (for it’s that time of year); but as ever, who knows what may unfold as my fingers take to tip-tapping the keyboard! Friends (by dint of the fact you’re still here!) I consider all of you to be…but this character above? I do not! How innocent this fluffy-feathered, beady-eyed, crested individual looks - spied as I was busily working away, filling barrow after barrow of last season’s spent material at the weekend. “It wasn’t me” he/she (I’ve never thought about it before - is there an easily distinguishable feature about the appearance of a Sulphur Crested Cockatoo?) seemed to be suggesting. “No…I wasn’t part of that hoard who recklessly chomped through your fruit trees in the orchard; the quince, apple and almond trees, leaving a detritus of half-nibbled immature fruit and a mess of branches all over the ground”. “It’s not me who’s been taking the heads off your experimental planting of oats and barley either”! “And again not me behaving like a screeching kamikaze pilot in the dusky hours”. Innocent on all counts? I don’t think so! (Though very cute glimpsed here, as you can see; and we did have a conversation of sorts!).
Would you go to the trouble of staking a carrot flower? I do! I love them, and am a bit disappointed there aren’t quite as many self-sown ones this year. Not that they all need staking, but I couldn’t bare to part company with this one, as I worked my way through the ‘guild’ side of the kitchen garden at the weekend. You will recall I mentioned last week, that I’d got the ‘skeleton’ planting of the traditional side of the kitchen garden done (with a great deal more seasonal infilling to do). But I hadn’t yet had a chance to work my way through clearing out the spent material from last season on the guild side, so at the weekend I got seriously stuck in - what fun!
As stormy skies built, dissipated and gathered momentum again, creating a stifling kind of atmosphere on the ground which equalled hot, sweaty work; I stripped yellowed-off fennel leaves, removed spent rocket, radicchio, celery and kale, a mis-formed cauliflower or two, hidden under a flurry of other leaves - the kind of ‘miss’ that can occur on the guild side of the garden, though I don’t much mind…as I treat this side of the garden in a completely different manner to the traditional side - it’s so much more free to roam; to behave as it wants, which yields a vision that’s romantic and dear to my heart, as well as being insect and microbe friendly (not that the traditional side isn’t!). But this approach does mean more ‘misses’, because individuals are inclined to become overgrown.
Part of me was thinking to chop ‘n drop all the material I was gathering…which I do in some places, but instead I cleared the decks! I need a clear and ‘clean’ space to be able to see…to feel what to do next. So I left tall clumps of fennel standing, staked a carrot and chard stem here and there; left the globe artichokes that have become gigantic purple thistle-like flowers (cut those stems early at your peril if you want them to make a comeback…I wait to see leaf regrowth at the base before I cut them down) and took to moving and re-tying the wigwams and reo-panels with gusto, to ensure as I begin anew, that I don’t plant a ‘same family’ veg in the same position as last season.
As I went about that work, I collected seed too…on the stem or by the pod. The bleached, dried heads of Red Elk mustard had contributed such a handsome clump, a contrasting layer between the feathery fennel fronds and their pollen-laden, yellow umbel flowers; but if they were not to spill everywhere, and I was to save them for next season, they had to come out. You can see in the image above that I pulled them, rather than cutting their stems off at ground level. This is a practice over which I question myself, as I move through the process of clearing: some roots I leave in - certainly those of the legume family, for the nodes produced on their roots will release nitrogen into the soil as they break down. Whereas these…I could have left…perhaps should have left in, for their roots too, would break down, feeding the soil microbes as they do so. And yet - I felt the soil where they’d been growing seemed a bit listless - for want of a better description…hmmm…a bit compacted? When I pulled the first one, the earth almost seemed to sigh ‘thank you’! As if it needed to take a deep breath…a gulp of oxygen? So I decided to pull the entire clump, stem by stem, shaking off excess soil as I went. The roots of course, (which smelt divinely earthy) were compost-bound, where they will break down and contribute towards encouraging microbes to multiply there; and will eventually be returned to the garden bed. So it’s a circuitous cycle - nothing wasted, everything nurtured.
And goodness I got those stems inside in such a great rush, just as the first big drops of rain fell! With a great rumble of thunder, it was one of those downpours one can hear coming, like a train approaching…passing over the leaves on the trees that bound the creek, across the paddock and the potting shed roof, in an oncoming kind of whoosh. I picked up those stems from where I’d rested them against the fence, roots and all, leaping up the shallow steps and in through the Dairy door, leaving a trail of soil behind me! As the fly screen door snapped shut, clouds of seed pods fell to the floor…and I spent the next quarter hour or so, as rain gushed and thunder rumbled, chopping off said roots, propping the tall dry stems against a wall in the big white space where I so love to see my seeds on their stems…and sweeping up the great big mess I’d made in the little entrance where the yellow cupboards are! Oh how I love a concrete floor…no matter what a mess I make in the Dairy - from soil to seeds (and the remains of every workshop and event!) it is so easy to sweep it all up in a trice!
Seeing as I was stuck, umbrella-less in the Dairy (and I’d cleaned up my mess!); I took the opportunity to slip the broad beans I’d collected earlier in the day from their dried pods. So often over the years, I’ve eaten all the broad beans, without heed to leaving a few pods for next year’s sowing! Greedy…yes I know, but I do love broad beans so! This year I kept reminding myself to leave some of the ones on the guild side, and so it is that I have enough seed now, to sow next season. Bravo! And then the rain stopped and the sun came out…but by then it was too late to carry on in the garden - it was time reluctantly, to call it a day…
On Sunday we turned the compost…two heaps! One that had already had a first turn some months back, and I thought while we were about the task and the new heap had built to such an extent I couldn’t reach to even throw any more material on top, that we ought to turn it too! By adding some inputs - blood & bone, pelletised chicken manure, a few broken cow pats (and of course that all-important ingredient water), the pile will reduce quite quickly in size, and though there’s more material to add, at least we can get a head start with that one ‘cooking’. The first one had already broken down considerably, with some layers already resembling good colloidal compost - sticking together beautifully if pressed gently, sweet smelling, yet crumbly too. But there is still a lot of material to break down in that heap and I’m in urgent need of coaxing it along, as we’re making our way swiftly now through the previous heap and there’ll soon be nothing of it left to use!
And now? Much as I didn’t want to…as it’s a job I like to take slowly myself; in the name of expediency (and sensibility) yesterday I asked Thalia to barrow our lovely compost to each of the three guild beds and to cover them with mulch. You can see how the guild beds are never completely devoid of plants; but now I can clearly see where I might plant and sow between them. Remaining clumps will offer shade or dappled light to new additions; some of the structures I dismantled and rebuilt at the weekend are already providing support to tall stems left behind and I want those tall stems! They’re each supporting flowers for bees and ladybirds, for good bugs. And it was imperative to me, to smother soil that had hitherto been covered in plant material, but was now exposed by my clear-up to the elements - the harsh and drying sun; with compost and mulch as quickly as possible. So now this weekend, hopefully, I will have the chance to play!
The reason I couldn’t continue that job just mentioned myself, was that there were other pressing tasks at hand…as there always are (whether on-site or off!). First…the main crop tomato bed needed all the stakes putting in, before the placement of ag-pipe sections for root-watering; compost, mulch and planting. I cleared the decks in that bed too at the weekend, so with Thalia on Monday, we might make a quicker job of lining up the nine stakes for my San Marzano tomatoes! All that hopping back and forth to see if the stakes are lined up (and if one is putting them in straight!) on one’s own is so time consuming! Which is fine if one has time…it’s not an impossibility…but there was more to Monday’s plans…
I had the dahlia bed on my agenda, so having decided just where it should go this year, I got all the stakes and reo-panels out at the weekend too, then on Monday morning cleared the designated bed, and the two of us got to work on erecting the annual set of three dahlia support structures. By Monday afternoon we had the tomato bed all but complete, the dahlias planted, their bed composted and mulched…so that on Tuesday (after we’d completed the annual job of tying the shade panels between the wings - see below!) we could return to the dahlias and tie on the three layers of flat reo-panels per structure. Again…while it’s not impossible to do this on one’s own, and I have done…it’s oh so much more quick and easy if one person can hold the position of stake or panel, and the other can hop back to say yes or no, high or low…back, forth or there!
With these two lots of structures in, I can do the rest on my own! I’m waiting for the rocket to dry on the stem in the bed between the dahlias and tomatoes, but have nominated the place for a wigwam. It will be a few more weeks before ‘down the back’ is completely rotated into the current season, but just as with the kitchen garden ‘proper’ itself, getting the bones (along with soil prep) and skeleton planting in first, frees one up to play…whether on a whim or with a sense of urgent intent!
Oh those shade panels between the wings! What a job…It’s one neither Thalia or I much look forward to, but the difference they make visually and atmospherically, to that little space where the ‘tropicals’ grow, is immeasurable. And though the two of us dislike the task - it’s fiddly as we balance and unroll bamboo panels over our heads, supporting them partially on the ladder we’re each on either side of, feeding each other lengths of string back and forth as if a combined, gigantic sewing project; with each length ‘up’, we both revel in the immediate expulsion of heat and direct light, the new ambience of shaded dapple and strié shadow-patterning on the walls. You can almost hear the potted plants saying thank you - by way perhaps of an exhalation that contributes instantly to an air of humidity akin to being in a glasshouse. We were all smiling - plants and us, by the time we picked up our tools and breathed a sigh of relief that job was over for another year!
And now? The windows that look onto that little collection too, are protected from the days of harsh summer sun that lie ahead. Why oh why we always seem to leave tying the panels to a hot day I do not know! But the relief, both inside and out, is immediate; and it’s in this way, that the atmosphere inside has been altered too, causing a frisson of summer expectation to permeate those adjacent spaces, now deeply affected by nothing more than a few panels of bamboo.
Do you recall last week’s plump bud? I couldn’t resist bringing it inside yesterday! It’s reached that moment I love best, peak perfection…with a froth of individual starburst lilies as well as so many more to open, yet not a one yet ‘over’. The delicate perfume it’s oozing into our bathroom is completely divine; its reflection in the mirror amplifying the visual effect. This stem is probably the only one I’ll pick, though there must be a dozen or more in flower; for each head of flowers left on the stem in the garden will develop into a bulb, that if left alone will drop to the ground, and with any luck ‘take’, and evolve into a new plant. It’s in this way the number of Crinum pedunculatum have increased in number over the years from the three or four I originally planted.
And now the flowers of the Burmese Honeysuckle, Lonicera hildebrandiana are opening at a rate of knots, causing cascades of golden flowers to spill across the laundry window awning, its soapy perfume wafting in through open doors and windows. With gardenias to pick too, surely this is a moment in which to revel in perfumed garden glory? The pink froth of spring has long gone and as we stride into summer, it’s the sturdy and waxy now, who lead the way!
That’s not to say there’s no pink at all…it’s just that it no longer dominates as it did for a brief moment in time! How excited I am, to pick the very first fresh fennel seeds of the season - I went in search of some yesterday, to explain the reason to a couple of lovely visitors, just why I’ve long considered fennel to be the most valuable plant in the garden, and was thrilled to find a head of flowers that had indeed reached this point (the pollen stage is abundant, so wasn’t hard to find and of course the fronds are in abundance too, so two points easily divulged as well as the fact those flowers attract the good bugs and look beautiful to boot!). So…hello fresh fennel seeds - yesterday was just the beginning of a long season when they will be scattered over pretty much everything we eat!
Which brings to mind a podcast I began listening to earlier this week, during a bout of very necessary ironing (another prompt - I read recently that ironing is good for you - apparently it’s a scientifically proven fact - so no more teasing of my ironing habits please!). You all know that on numerous occasions over the years I’ve had naturopath Anthia Koullouros here to run workshops, whereby in her capacity as walking encyclopaedia on plants as medicine, we’ve connected the garden to overall health and wellbeing…well, Anthia has just released a podcast, called This Is How We Heal. Whilst I confess to personally not feeling sick and tired - you’ll see what I mean if you tune in (and I truly believe that gardening has such a great deal to do with that personal state of mind and body), although I do admit to feeling utterly perplexed and anxious at the heavily surveilled, AI direction our world is taking, let alone all the other ghastly daily news; I find listening to Anthia and the information that she so generously shares to be compelling (just as I know, have all those past participants at those handful of beautiful, gentle workshops here). Anthia is a font of such wide-ranging, health-related information; she’s a wise, wise woman. Already I’ve shared the link to her shiny new podcast with a couple of friends who I thought might value her wisdom, so why not link to all of you here? I’ve only listened to the first two episodes (I tend to only listen to podcasts when I iron, which is not so often as I’d like, to get through the mountains that seem to build!). But it just may be, that something Anthia mentions might be relevant to you, or to someone you know. The link above takes you directly to the podcast, and episode two may give you an insight into why my mentioning fresh fennel seeds prompted my thought to share this with you! I know…my poor brain is quite addled…
I am being told once again, that I have exceeded my limit! I do hope these letters to you arrive in one piece, and are not all chopped up because I’ve gone on for so long! You can read them in full in the app, should that be the case! I’m pretty sure it’s the images that take up my allowable space…but where would the fun be without them?
As you can tell, I have another gardening weekend planned! Two in a row must be some kind of record for the last while…and it’s the last one as well! So you see…I need to get my skates on!
Wishing you all a terrific weekend and week ahead, with warmest wishes,
Mickey x
Productive garden notes:
Eating from the garden:
Potatoes (new), coloured chard, parsnip (going), leek (going), beetroot, garlic, asparagus, lettuce, rhubarb. Lovage, mint, chives, parsley, rosemary, sage, thyme. Nasturtium petals, chive flowers, fennel fronds, fennel pollen, fresh fennel seeds (new), poppy seeds
Going / gone: broad beans, parsnip, leek, nasturtium petals
Seed saving: peas, poppies (kitchen garden and peony poppies), broad beans, red elk mustard, rocket (Australian yellow lettuce leaf on the way)
Sowing: beans*, corn*, sunflower*, zinnia, (could sow zucchini and cucumber but I’m inclined to sow seedlings of these two instead), rocket and parsley (under shade); beetroot*, parsnip*, carrot, radish (also under shade) *be sure to soak the seed before sowing
You could also sow pumpkins…I know many peeps do, but I find it better here to sow or plant seedlings in late November/early December - we all get to become familiar with our own microclimates…eventually!
Planting: lettuce, coloured chard, tomatoes, aubergine, capsicum, cucumber, zucchini
Ornamental garden notes:
Picking for the house: Roses, Crinum lily, gardenia, Burmese honeysuckle
Perfumes and aromas: Burmese honeysuckle, Crinum lily, gardenia. There are so many oakleaf hydrangea flowers this year that their number are creating a lovely honey scent in the courtyard. Buddleja ‘Black Knight’ is in full flower now, casting a rich honey scent through the borders and loggia. R.Brunonnii is on its final few flowers and the Chinese Star Jasmine flowers are fading fast. But on a positive note, I noticed the very first frangipani flowers this morning! The Cistus ladanifer spreads its labdanum odour when the weather is just right…always catching one by surprise
Pruning and other: kitchen garden aside, I couldn’t wait to take my secateurs to the thyme whose flowers have finished, the pineapple guava I’m trying to coax into a mound next to the cubby house and the saltbush for which I’m trying to do the same in the Barn garden. Thalia has taken some dead sections from the English lavender at the Dairy and the rosemary at the Hayshed and thank goodness, cut down all the peony poppy stems from under the fig trees…I simply haven’t had a minute to do it, though I will need to decant their seed heads into something and set them all straight in some fashion, before our first event next week!