Weeding the Web

Special offer: picturing a garden with PicStick fridge magnets

If you're anything like me, your photos end up on the hard drive and rarely see the light of day. So when PicStick offered me a free trial, I thought at least it would liberate some pictures.

PicStick will turn nine photos of your choice, uploaded from your computer, tablet, phone etc, into fridge magnets 5 x 6.5cms.

I was about to trawl my computer for garden images, when a blog post on Picstick's website caught my eye - instead of nine smallish images, why not create one big image by splitting a photo into nine pieces?

I took ages to choose the picture (heaven knows how long I'd have taken choosing nine different ones). This one is from the garden of our favourite Shropshire B&B and reminds me of holidays and the delightful couple who run it.

Unfortunately, PicStick doesn't offer an image splitter of its own, so I used Image Splitter. That divided the image without fuss and it was easy to download the pics to the computer. My worry was that the size of the individual pictures wouldn't be a high enough resolution for the finished product (each jpeg portion was around 50Kb file size), but there didn't seem to be any info on that on the PicStick website, so I just took my chances.

You load the photos on to a grid, and it looks as if you have to ensure that all your photos are landscape-orientated, so I wasted quite a bit of time turning pics round 90 degrees and reloading them. Then I discovered that you don't actually have to do that - it turns them round for you if you just save them.

When you've finished uploading you have a grid of nine pictures, in the arrangement in which they'll be printed. PicStick promises to have them posted within one working day of the order. Sure enough, the next day I had an email to say that the magnets were being shipped, and the day after that they plopped through the letterbox. It couldn't have gone any more smoothly.

And the magnets themselves?  They arrive in a sheet that you have to separate yourself. It needs to be done with a bit of care but isn't particularly difficult. PicStick uses 200 gsm art board, with a glossy finish, backed with a magnetic sheet (so the pictures are bendy, rather than the rigid plastic I was, naively, expecting. They stick well to the fridge, but aren't really there for retaining notes - any more than a single sheet of paper between them and the fridge door and you're likely to find yourself picking them off the floor.

But they've added a real splash of colour to my fridge. The resolution is fine and, to my surprise, I've discovered that, artistically, I'm rather fond of a somewhat abstract array - my Cubist rendition of a poppies and lupins.

At £9.50, p&p free, it's a fun way to remind yourself of favourite garden scenes, or make a display of flowers and plants, or give someone a memento of an enjoyable outing shared.

Picstick are offering a 25% discount to anyone entering the code HELEN25 when they make their purchase. (Offer ends 5th November 2014.) 

Gifts for young gardeners: getting a (Munakuppi) head in gardening

It's not a new idea, but these small pottery Munakuppi heads from Mr Fothergill's are unexpectedly charming. I 've grown rather fond of this chap on my kitchen window.

 

There are six different characters - dog, frog, elephant, crocodile, duck and pig. Each character is accompanied by a compost disc, providing just the right volume for the cavity, and a seed choice which lets you choose to grow long (rye grass) or short (basil) "hair". Old Deputy (as I call him) had a quick snip for the picture. He'd been there for a couple of weeks and definitely needed a haircut.

I've implied these are for children (and obviously they are) but, equally obviously, yours truly is an adult who hasn't grown up.  In fact, a sneaky little part of me would rather like the whole range.

The frog would definitely have short hair.

(Munakuppi provided by Mr Fothergill's for review.)

 

The vicious side of gardening - was this a Blandford Fly bite?

Gentle pottering, late summer sun, the buzz of bees. Somehow, you just don't expect gardening to get up and bite you, do you?  But that's exactly what something did to me on Monday evening.

I wouldn't mention it, except it's made me rethink my behaviour in the garden and it might prevent the same thing happening to you. (It also preoccupied me for most of last week and, honestly, what's a blog for if not to share?)

I was kneeling in the shaggy grass near the compost bins when something nibbled - probed, penetrated? - the inside of my calf. I saw nothing at first, then wondered if the tiny black thing that wandered across my skin (the size of a rice grain) had something to do with it, and thought nothing more of it.

Hah! What the hell was that vicious little beast?

Next morning, at the site of the original pain my calf was red and there was tiny fluid-filled blister. By lunchtime the whole inside of my calf was red, swollen and burning hot. The tissue near the bite was hard and congested and it hurt to walk. The bite itself oozed. The skin felt tight enough to burst.

By evening, when Husband finally saw it, I was hobbling. "I did tell you," I pointed out, with some asperity, as he said that if only he'd known he'd have picked up the insect venom suction thing-y that (for some unfathomable reason) he'd once bought and now resides at his father's house. Quite obviously our main regret at this point was that this never-used piece of emergency kit was missing its moment of glory.

He applied some excruciating massage to the area (he's qualified as an osteopath), cleared some of the congestion and suggested I'd live, while I was wondering if you could die of itching.

Of course, you may wonder why I hadn't skedaddled to a doctor or chemist. Well, given that grim images of gangrene leap easily to mind (or at least, my mind) whenever I pick up a splinter, I had already consulted the inhouse doctor (or Internet) and can highly recommend the NHS Choices rundown on "bad insect bite".

I was in the midst of a Large Localised Reaction (LLR).

But otherwise I felt fine - no temperature, no sickness, no aching joints. The swelling and redness spread discernibly but in a contained manner, there were no enlarged lymph nodes, and no red lines ascending the thigh (which would have indicated spreading infection). So I remained (moderately) sanguine.

By Thursday (Thursday, note) I could walk without pain, it was barely hot, all scabbed over but - what the...? - my lower leg and ankle had swollen up. 

Only on Friday, after frantic massage (this time from me - my ankles are, for heaven's sake, one of my better features), can I say that the leg finally looked normal, if still feeling extremely itchy. And I am humbled and relieved at the amazing ability our body has to contain and vanquish poison and infection.

Does anybody have any idea what it might have been?

Of course, I might have suffered an idiosyncratic allergic reaction, but could it have been the Blandford Fly?  This vicious little brute is well-known in Dorset, where the yearly controls that seem to have kept it in abeyance are under threat. And, although it mostly frequents watery areas, and is supposedly most active in May and June and in the middle of the day, it seems to be spreading, with possible thanks to garden water features. This July the Gloucestershire Echo queried if there were now Blandford flies in Cheltenham when a doctor and his wife experienced painful bites.

Blandford Fly or no, I'll aim to be a little more circumspect. Aiming to convert the late summer sun to as much Vitamin D as possible, I was in shorts, but I think jeans might be more to the point, at least in long grass.  And an anti-histamine in the medicine cupboard seems a reasonable addition.  All precautions that the Oxonian Gardener found useful for the same reason.

If you think you've had a similar bite, let us know and let's see if we can map anything out around the counties.

Garden Bloggers' Bloom Day: tough as old boots and dancing on the breeze

I was about to pass these over as my GBBD contribution this month. They're hardly new or unusual. But they're looking gorgeous as they dance in the gentle breeze:

As a garden stalwart you can't do better than Autumn (or Japanese) Anemones. No maintenance, no fuss. Tough as old boots. Flower for weeks on end (ours started at the end of July).

For a long time we had a group just outside the dining-room window. We still do, but others decided to insinuate themselves further down the bed. I groaned - have you ever tried to dig out an unwanted autumn anemone? The roots go down forever.

But then I realised how having a more distant group really enhanced the view - in late afternoon, the near group is in shade, the further in sunshine, and two groups make the bed look longer.

I don't know why I bother really - I should just let Nature get on with it.

This is my contribution to Garden Bloggers' Bloom Day. Visit May Dreams Gardens to see what else is blooming around the world.

Garden Ponds: priming the pump of decision

"Just as a room without a mirror is dead, so a garden without water is never quite alive."

Of course, you could speculate on the personality that thinks that every room should have a mirror, but the moment I read this in Beverley Nichols' Merry Hall I felt he was right. And what that really tells you is that I've always wanted a garden pond.

Have you got a pond? If not, perhaps Beverley's description of his pond explains why:

It's the sort of thing the Daily Herald will tell you can be dug over a weekend by a not very bright child with a not very sharp spade. I need hardly say that in fact it required an army of workmen and cost the earth.

My fear, exactly. Except I'd be doing all the work.

Positioning a Garden Pond

Still, that was written in the days before butyl liners and pre-formed plastic, and a pond doesn't have to be big. In his excellent book How to Create an Eco Garden, John Walker makes one out of a container 16 ins diameter by 12 ins deep (picture of pond) and suggests putting one in a flower border. 

Personally, I fancy something a bit larger, though. Where to put it?

General consensus recommends a site away from trees (to avoid falling leaves in autumn) and in the sunniest space available to attract the greatest variety of wildlife and ensure that your waterlilies flower well. According to H L V Fletcher (The Feature Garden, 1960), it should also be south or south-west of any shrubs that will form a windbreak against the coldest air.

So, not under the apple tree and not near the back of the house (north-facing). Which pretty much leaves us mid-lawn.

Choosing the shape

Now, formal shape (meaning rectilinear or round) or informal (uneven edges)?

G C Taylor advises in Gardening by Example:

Generally speaking, the formal pool is the type best suited to the well-defined outlines of the small garden. Possibly its best position...is in an axial line with any doors or windows on the garden front of the house, steps, a gateway or archway, or borders.

Sounds plausible, but turn to the photographs and you find that the author's idea of a small garden (book first published 1932 by Country Life) is an expanse that, these days, would be sold to developers for a large housing estate.

Besides, there are enough straight lines in my garden. I'll leave those formal ponds to London courtyards and gardens like the one at Morville Dower House (pictured).

So, we have an informal pond, mid-lawn.

Wildlife-friendly ponds

Water should be deep enough not to freeze solid in winter, and we surely all know now that stones should be placed in the water, allowing amphibians and wayward hedgehogs a way to scramble out.

But how about baked frogs? That's the horrible experience related by Gillian Dunkley in her helpful guide to pond-making. Ensure that there's plenty of vegetation for baby frogs to crawl into when they leave the water for the first time - wide expanses of sun-hot stone just won't do it for them.

Frivolous fountains

The Garden of Solitude, Hampton Court Flower Show 2014

And the finishing touch for me would be a fountain. It adds the lovely dimension of sound (would you happen to know if they draw in wildlife by alerting creatures to the presence of water?) but the downside is that they're not, according to Mr Fletcher, good for plants (which prefer a constant temperature not supplied by sprayed water) and waterlilies in particular, which resent being spat on. His ingenious solution is to create a pond within a pond, with the fountain playing in the central one.

Still, a water feature doesn't have to feature fat cherubs or dribbling dolphins. And I certainly wouldn't want a thunderous waterfall like that in Garden of Solitude at this year's Hampton Court. That Gold-winning design would drown out extraneous noise, but would surely drive your neighbours potty.

A gentle ripple over stones, giving the appearance of a spring is what I'd aim for, to go with the somewhat blowsy, overgrown look of the rest of the garden.

And here's another reason I'm so far pond-less. Because I don't want the hassle of connecting a water feature to the mains.  But pond pumps no longer have to be mains-powered. In fact, the idea of solar-powered pumps rather appeals. No, they're not (so far) as powerful as plugged-in pumps, and even with a battery to store energy they won't work all the time, but the cooling sound of gurgling water is most welcome is when the weather's sunniest, so that's no hardship.

Autumn is a good time to start a pond. Have I just talked myself into it?  If you have experience (good or bad) with ponds, I'd love to hear your advice.

In association with Swell UK.

 

Tree Following: does the lilac know it's autumn?

Well, despite the anxieties of last month, the lilac is continuing to grow and its tallest shoot is now  taller than I am.

The leaves that last month were looking brown round the edges and wilted are now, additionally, somewhat frayed. Have they been eaten because they weren't doing so well or is it all part of the original problem?  I'm not sure what's had them, as there's been no sign of pests when I've been around.

However, whatever it is hasn't spread enough to do any obvious weakening. Some of the other leaves are beginning to brown, but this I recognise. The lilac always seems to turn autumnal before the other trees in the vicinity, and every year I see leaves like that below and wonder what's wrong with them, until I remember that they have to drop some time.

Meanwhile, what on earth is going to happen to the cutting?  The new leaf, as you can see has hardly grown since last time. I fear it has ground to a halt, but why? Because it actually isn't going to root, or because this cutting too is getting the message about autumn? One leaf has already dropped off (though it didn't turn brown). I'm keeping it damp and no longer keep it under a plastic bag as the soil was beginning to go mouldy. Fingers crossed.

This is part of Lucy's Tree Following meme at Loose and Leafy. Why not pop over and see what's happening to trees around the world?

A useful garden tool I didn't know I needed

I don't buy much. I'll bet that you don't, either. I don't think, on the whole, that gardeners do. Combine a pastime that needs little in the way of equipment with the fact that I hate shopping (really, really hate) and you have before you someone who is remarkably cheap to run. Faced with a new tool, I consider whether something already exists in the shed with which I'm happy to Make Do. And there generally is.

You've probably noticed that it's possible to Make Do without a lot of the gardening equipment that shops would like to sell us - twine tins, seed tins, metal spikes with string wound round to make straight lines, and a growing variety of differently shaped trowels.

Some, especially of the latter, must be useful, but useful enough to justify their purchase? Probably not, in my book.

Thus, in the past, when I've seen a scoop amongst gardening equipment, I've passed on. I'm perfectly capable of balancing a ridiculous quantity of compost on a trowel, and I have another hand to clutch it with just before it tumbles off the edge.

However, I'm also sucker for a reduced price. Last month I came face to face with a compost scoop at the our local market. Stainless steel, ash handle, Wilkinson's Sword.

I hovered. (Quite brave. The stall holder's given to announcing loudly that you're an idiot if you pass up his bargains.)

I ummed.

It was £2.99.

I ahhed.

Then I bought it, using the "barely more than a cup of coffee" criterion (do you do that?).

And I'm so pleased. I had to fill a trough (for the mesembryanthemums) and did it in half the time. Soil stayed securely in the scoop, not scattered around the pot. Bonus discovery - £11.99 usual price.

Husband, who refuses to perform a task unless he has the correct tools for the job, is hoping this discovery will have far-reaching effects (it won't - just because the scoop is great, it doesn't mean we need that weed-puller).

But I do wonder what other tools I might be missing out on. Is Pippa Greenwood right, for example, about that odd little hook that she praises to the skies? Are there any that you've discovered that you absolutely wouldn't be without now?