Weeding the Web

Are we heading for a fruitless summer?

The RHS has reported that we could be facing a fruitless summer this year, as the winter chill, supposedly required for various fruits to crop, has been mostly absent. Bushes are also flowering early. While frost might be a real problem in killing off early blossom, the high winter temperatures aren't necessarily a cause for despair. It seems that we probably don't know as much about the temperature requirements, certainly of apple trees, as we think.

For an alternative view, do see my post from last November, A Chilling Time for Apples Ahead?  Or go straight to the Apples and Oranges blog for an eye-opener on parts of the world that grow apples where convention says it possible.

Strange life in the garden - or My Most Unforgettable Characters (with apologies to Readers' Digest)

Do you think the weather's bad enough in your neck of the woods?  Spare a thought for Patrick Vickery who writes the hugely enjoyable Ramblingbloke, and gardens for a living forty miles past Inverness (good grief! So far north and not swimming!). Consequently he's on intimate terms with chilly conditions that would make most of us wake up in sweat.

Here's how Patrick described himself to me:

I am what is known as a ‘jobbing’ gardener, moving from garden to garden throughout the working week. I drive a battered Ford Mondeo and wear a woolly hat. I am one of those scruffy-looking guys whose car is crammed to the gunwales with all manner of garden tools and accessories.

I can average eight gardens a day throughout the summer months, sometimes more. A diary is essential. By late afternoon I have often forgotten where I was in the morning. Two hours in one place is my limit. Anymore than that and the boredom threshold is breached. Variety is the key – a different location, a different cake (I am offered many cakes – perk of the job).

I'm delighted to say that Patrick has taken time out to guest on Weeding the Web. When he moved from the clement climes of Hampshire 25 years ago he found, "The growing season is short and the winters long, making life a little precarious at times for full-time gardeners." But he's not dwelling on the weather.   

What the Dickens has Dickens got to do with gardening?

Happy New Year, in keeping with the situation! as Scrooge’s housekeeper might have said.

If you vegged out with the TV over the festive season, you can’t possibly have missed the fact that next month sees the 200th anniversary of Dickens’ birth. This obviously presents an irresistible reason for shoehorning him into a gardening blog; the only question being how.

Then, the BBC made a huge fanfare about Great Expectations. Shall I veer off into our great expectations of gardening or how plants have characters: how some sulk in a dark corner and never progress (Miss Haversham), others look delicate but have an iron will (Estella), some look hearty but are sensitive souls (Joe)?  

No, I won't (and you needn't sigh with relief). I’m going to mention the portrait of a dedicated gardener.

Some of you will immediately know who's coming, but if your only experience of Great Expectations is this Christmas’s three-part adaptation, you won’t have a clue. This dreary, lifeless, “it’s Victorian England so get out the brown filter” production sucked all the subtlety from a tale filled with humour and memorable characters.

Inexplicably many critics loved it. I suspect that many critics, not only haven’t read the book, but haven’t watched the next best thing: David Lean’s 1946 film. A few hormones went into overdrive, too, at the sight of Douglas Booth’s knitting-pattern features (I think Radio 4’s Woman’s Hour team might actually have tripped over each others' tongues as they discussed him). Still, some maintained their sanity, and there’s a fulminating condemnation from Howard Jacobson in The Guardian, a cry of anguish from Paul Bailey at its being "as crude as an episode of  EastEnders", while Michael Deacon and Anne Billson of The Daily Telegraph moaned about miscasting.

Meanwhile, I opened the book, found my gardener and fell in love with Dickens all over again. Here’s Mr Wemmick, assistant to the enigmatic, powerful Mr Jaggers, talking to Pip in his garden:

“At the back, there’s a pig, and there are fowls and rabbits; then I knock together my own little frame, you see, and grow cucumbers; and you’ll judge at supper what sort of a salad I can raise. So sir," said Wemmick, smiling again but seriously, too, as he shook his head, “if you can suppose the little place besieged, it would hold out a devil of a time in point of provisions.”

Then, he conducted me to a bower about a dozen yards off, but which was approached by such ingenious twists of path that it took quite a long time to get at; and in this retreat our glasses were already set forth. Our punch was cooling in an ornamental lake, on whose margin the bower was raised. This piece of water (with an island in the middle which might have been the salad for supper) was of a circular form, and he had constructed a fountain in it, which, when you set a little mill going and took a cork out of a pipe, played to that powerful extent that it made the back of your hand quite wet.

“I am my own engineer, and my own carpenter, and my own plumber, and my own gardener, and my own Jack of all Trades,” said Wemmick, in acknowledging my compliments. “Well, it’s a good thing, you know. It brushes the Newgate cobwebs away, and pleases the Aged.”

He’s you, isn’t he? And me. Wemmick, the ordinary man with a tough job that strains his humanity, goes home, pours creativity into his garden (designed, note, to feel larger than it is), and is as proud as Punch.

Of course, the little water feature wouldn't be everybody's taste. Nor would his home. This tiny cottage in Victorian suburbia has sham gothic windows, an impracticably small gothic front door, a roofline with pretend fortifications, and a flagstaff (up which Wemmick runs "a real flag" on Sundays).

Even more ridiculously, he fires a cannon every evening, which thrills the Aged (who is, of course, Wemmick’s very deaf father—“Nod away at him, Mr Pip; that’s what he likes.”).

It's exaggerated in the best traditions of story-telling, but for Wemmick his home is truly his castle, and who among us doesn't recognise that delight in getting home, metaphorically (indeed, literally, in Wemmick's case) pulling up the drawbridge, and losing ourselves in the flowerbeds? 

I doubt if Dickens had much time for gardening himself, but with his extraordinary ability to capture the essence of personality and depict human foibles, he surely makes us warm with affection to a fellow gardener, and smile at our own pretensions.

In the next post: working gardener and columnist Patrick Vickery relates the ups and downs of working with some eccentric clients.

Dreaming of a White Christmas with Bailey the Unknown Reindeer

Well, despite the best efforts of the media to play up what snow has fallen so far, we can't really pretend we've had anything like last year's experience. Shame in a way - nothing like a white Christmas to put you in the mood, so, in celebration of the season before I sign off for 2011, here's a video of someone that really does enjoy some of the white stuff.

I wish you all a very Happy Christmas. See you again in the New Year.

 

A Ruralist's Idyll for National Tree Week

To celebrate National Tree Week, which is happening as we speak, I thought I'd draw your attention to the exhibition at the Twenty Twenty Gallery in Much Wenlock, Shropshire.

Annie Ovenden was a member of The Ruralists, a group influenced by music and literature, but aiming to understand the elements of nature. Their work tends to share a mystical, dreamy quality, with flat-looking surfaces and strong graphics.  They continue to paint, but the group held its last exhibition in 2007.

Annie is known for her tree studies and landscapes of Cornwall where she lives, and a number of new works are for sale, both originals and prints. I think you can see elements of Ravillious and Samuel Palmer in her pictures, though her work tends towards greater stillness, perhaps.

Meanwhile, more prosaically, National Tree Week is this year emphasising trees' role in reducing the chance of flash floods, given their ability to moderate the impact of rainstorms. More poetically, Pauline Buchanan-Black, Director-General of the Tree Council, said," To be able to look out on a tree simply lifts my soul and gladdens my heart... Everyone should be able to see a tree from their window."

The message is, of course, to go out and plant one, but if you can't, one of Annie's pictures on the wall might be the next best thing.

 

 

 

Presents for Gardeners: Hand cream for dry skin

Dry skin's an occupational hazard for gardeners, especially at this time of year. So one of the more practical presents is hand cream.  There are a couple that I've found recently and particularly liked.  Both producers are small family businesses, who turn out creams without the ingredients that cause concern - such as parabens, mineral oil, SLS and synthetic fragrance - and both use essential oils for scent.

The first I picked up in Shropshire last year at the enticingly named Bog Visitor Centre on the edge of the Long Mynd (actually, the area is fascinating - the centre used to be the school for the lead miners' children). The Garden Angel hand cream by Pure Scents (a small family concern), contains calendula, to help heal scratches garnered from the rosebush, and incorporates essential oils chosen for their healing, moisturising effects on skin. It's a pure white cream that sinks into the skin quickly.  If you're anywhere near Ludlow, you can also buy it in The Wear House, Corve Street.

The others I found at the Country Living Christmas Fair. B Skincare products contain, unsurprisingly, beeswax. Their Hand and Foot cream is totally different from Garden Angel, being much thicker, but very smooth, leaving a slightly waxy feel to the hands when first applied. As someone whose hands get very dry (especially after delving in soil), I thought it felt very soothing. They also do a lemon barrier cream, which smells gorgeous. Neither of these, however, are in their Gardening Gift Box, but you can mix and match, and all four together would surely give a gardener's great nutmeg-graters great relief.

They are also offering free postage on all gift orders over Christmas.

For more gift ideas click on Presents for Gardeners.

Presents for the Mug in the Garden

I doubt if you could find a gardener who doesn't enjoy a mug of something hot while he or she contemplates the next step (I find gardening involves a lot of contemplation, myself). And there are loads of gardening themed mugs which would make a useful gift.

Presents for Men features a couple of good, old-fashioned enamel mugs with the gardening legends Dig for Victory and I Garden Therefore I Am. As someone who equates taking mugs into the garden with returning to the kitchen with shards of china, these appeal to me. They might possibly chip if you hit the paving with them, but at least they wouldn't shatter.

Winter gardening with English Heritage

One November, we made the mistake of going to Norfolk.

OK, before all you Fen-o-philes take umbrage, the mistake was (mostly) in the timing, rather than the place. Everything, but everything, was shut - Sandringham, National Trust houses, you name it, they'd all closed their doors three days earlier at the end of October. When we ended up in Walsingham to see the abbey, the eeriness of the deserted streets reminded us of nothing so much as The Town of No Return, the Avengers episode where the church reverberates with the singing of a non-existent choir, and the baying of bloodhounds floats across the Fens at night.

Things have moved on and stately homes are now less likely to shut up tight with leaf fall. This year English Heritage have special events aimed at gardeners at four of their properties, beginning next week at Walmer Castle, Kent, and continuing through December till March at Osborne House, on the Isle of Wight, Brodsworth Hall, South Yorks, and Witley Court, Worcs.  English Heritage members have other events to choose from, too.

The events comprise a nice mix of the practical and the recreational, with head gardeners offering talks and tips on everything from hanging baskets and plant propagation, to walks focussing on wildlife management and (the one that tempts me most) historic trees.

 

Chilling times for apples ahead?

Fog. Planes grounded. Finally, it seems, autumn has arrived, although down here in the south of England the temperatures still aren't exactly teeth-chattering. No sign yet of the predicted icy winter. This could be a worry for apple growers, as sufficient chilling is regarded as necessary for most apple cultivars to set blossom the following year. The snowy winters of 2009 and 2010 had a hand in some bumper harvests.

The excellent Orange Pippin gives details of the minimum chill requirements. Apple trees generally need around 1000 hours at temperatures between 1°C and 7°C (33-45°F), though there are “low-chill” varieties, such as Anna, that require only 300 hours.

Before we worry, though, about whether Granny Smith is going to get enough sleep this winter, here’s something that Jim Hester, a certified nurseryman from California, said back in 1996 when the state enjoyed unseasonably warm weather. While farmers fretted, he reassured home growers: “Most people probably won't notice. For the farmer, a full crop can mean everything, but for the home grower, whether you get 100 pieces of fruit on your tree or 85 isn't going to make that much of a difference.”

Meanwhile, apple expert Kevin Hauser, who also writes the informative Apples and Oranges blog, thinks that far too much emphasis is put on temperature. In fact, a recent posting derides experts who quote experts on the chill factor, without having any experience, and shows a Dixie Red Delight cropping on only 250 chilling hours. He writes: "The truth is the chilling hour needs of different apple varieties are not known and cannot be speculated, and the only way to find out is to plant it somewhere warm and see what happens... More often than not, the chilling requirement is much, much lower than anyone would have guessed." 

He and other growers in the region have another theory, too. The Sandy Bar Ranch quotes his opinion that leaf drop, and not low temperatures, triggers dormancy.  Dormancy is characterised by leaf drop, so it seems that it can be induced, whatever the temperature, by removing the leaves oneself.

So those of us who'd like to maximise our crop in these cash-strapped days can do more than hope for cold weather. So far temperatures haven’t risen so much that apple trees don’t lose their leaves in this part of the world but, while my russet has only a few yellowing leaves lingering on the branches, my Bramley is fully clothed and green. If its leaves don't drop soon, I'll consider stripping them off, just to make sure.

Christmas Gifts for Gardeners at the Country Living Fair

Last week I visited the Country Living Christmas Fair – all in the cause of research, you understand.

It’s a long-standing annual event at the Business Design Centre, Islington, and, never having been before, I was totally unprepared for its vast size and the enormous number of stands selling everything from clothing and food to soap and calligraphy.

Naturally, I kept a sharp look-out for anything gardening-related.

Kate Chidley produces fun illustrations, many of cows and sheep enjoying human activity. The print that caught my eye was The Good Life, the "Cowtoon" (ouch!) pictured, set on an allotment, and available in different sizes at around £25. Kate has a grindingly slow website (tell me if it’s just me) so it’s much faster to find at Somerset Art Works. Her website lists other West Country galleries that carry her work.

A charm bracelet was certainly something I'd have adored as a child, and a grown-up version could include some of the cute gardening charms from Scarlett Jewellery. They also sell a variety of suitable bracelets. Of course, you could buy them all at once, but at around £35 per charm, starting a bracelet could to tide you over in the present-giving department for several years.

Staying with jewellery, Michael Michaud uses bronze, silver and gold to creates rather gorgeous necklaces and pendants based on flowers, fruit and, my favourite, beans and peas.

Finally, Joanna Smith-Ryland creates rather lovely cushions and bags in silk patchwork. Her Garden Collection features Cathedral Window patchwork embellished with embroidered flowers and butterflies. They're not cheap, but they are gorgeously sumptuous and you could commission anything from a bedspread to a waistcoat in the material.

To enjoy a similar design in pink at a more everyday price, you could plump for her Garden Collection cotton tablemats which are printed with the silk design. A set of six costs £38 and is machine washable.

Another Country Living Christmas Fair is taking place in Glasglow 17-20th November.