Weeding the Web

Presents for gardeners: a smock for all seasons

It struck me, as I set forth into the garden this weekend, that some things make themselves surprisingly indispensable.

At a Wisley craft fair in 2012 I bought, with a little scepticism, a gardening smock. It wasn't cheap, but producer Liz Wilkin of Cornishwear won me over. Based in (you've guessed it) Cornwall, and with the help of a team of outworkers, Liz produces modified Cornish fishing smocks. The gardening version has a couple of deep pockets and is made of extremely sturdy twill.

She's also designed them to be long enough "to keep the kidneys warm" and the thick twill shrugs off thorns, protects surprisingly well from drizzle and really, really keeps the wind out, which makes weeding quite cosy in miserable weather.

It's a little warm for high summer, but worth putting on, even then, for prickly areas. I now spend much less time unhitching woollies from the rose bushes, or saying 'ouch' to no one in particular as a thorn penetrates a forearm.

I also no longer have to hunt for secateurs and string (as these fit easily into the pockets). Best of all, I hang it from its loop on a hook by the back door, which means my best tops (invariably what I'm wearing when opportunity knocks) are protected at last.

The only thing I would say is that, if you find it difficult to pull clothes over your head, you'll find these (being of very sturdy, unstretchy material) a bit of a struggle. I've learned for the first time in my life to take a top off like a schoolboy - grab the back of the neck and haul upwards.  (Liz does do fleece versions, though, which would, no doubt, be more forgiving.)

When this one finally goes the way of all threads (which will be in some time to come, since it is so sturdy), I will be beetling back to Liz to get another.

What with this and proper gardening boots, I will finally start to emerge from the undergrowth looking like a grown-up, rather than a mud-encrusted hoyden.

 

 

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.

Gardening gloves for women: product review

If there’s a large choice of anything in the gardening world, it’s gloves, and especially for women. I once stood in front of a large display and, really wanting to know, asked, “What are the different uses of all these gloves?”

The company rep’s reply was masterful. "All these dozens of pairs mean women can choose their own style."

Huh?

Oh, pattern! Pattern was their only difference. I was about to question this superfluity of choice when I heard a squeal. "Oooh, strawberries! I love that strawberry print." And once again it hit me; as Husband explains occasionally, I'm not a proper girl.

Still, plethora of pattern aside, there are plenty to choose from, and as I've got small hands and have always struggled to find a really good fit,  as well as an all-round useful pair, I've spent the last couple of years testing out six different pairs.

Different construction

First, construction. Some are stitched together (which tends to be the way of thicker, thorn-proof types, often with the disadvantage of a bad fit); others are “dipped”, made of a thinnish knitted base which is then dipped (mostly in Malaysia, it turns out) into a coating which covers the palms and fingers and at least part of the backs of the fingers (they usually fit more closely, but tend to be less protective). Although these also offer a degree of waterproofing, I find they make your hands sweat.

Gloves on Review

Joe’s The Essential One and Joe’s The Dexterous One

Joe’s Garden launched with the idea that they would “redefine the use and purpose of gloves in the home and garden.” (No, I don’t, either.)

Joe Page, the founder, also said he was “concerned about how cluttered and confused the market place had become [well, he has a point there] and felt it was time customers were introduced to a brand that is clean, fresh and simple”. Joe’s consists of only 4 styles, each available in 3 sizes and distinguished by colour.

To be honest, I can’t really tell much difference between the two I’ve tried. They’re both of the “dipped” variety and The Dexterous One has a slightly smoother, thinner coating and washes off more easily.

The bright colours make them easy to spot, but the elasticated cuffs are too short to cover my watch, have loosened their grip and acquired an annoying tendency to roll inwards, making it difficult to pull down their full length. The coating doesn’t reach much beyond the base of the nail on the back of the fingers, so you get damp quite quickly when dabbling in wet soil.

Fit: bit long in the ring and little fingers, bit short between thumb and forefinger.

With Garden Soft n Care

Another "dipped" glove. I didn’t expect much difference.

I was wrong.

These are dipped in natural rubber and employ MicroFinish (“The Intelligent Grip”). Whatever that is, it adds noticeable traction while pulling out weeds.  

They feel substantial but still communicate what's beneath your fingers. The longer elasticated wrist covers my watch with over an inch to spare and grips well one year on. There’s still a tendency for it to roll under, but less so, and it’s easier to unroll.  The coating covers more of the back of the fingers, so you keep drier.

Fit: bit long in ring and little finger but otherwise they were great, even at the join between thumb and forefinger.

Ethel These are the girliest of all my pairs, their “Canterbury” pattern described ridiculously in their brochure as “intricately symbolic”.  However, as well as having a wide array of pattern and colour, they are shaped especially for women.  

They’re certainly well thought out. The elastic at the wrist is good and sturdy, still gripping two years later. They’re made of breathable stretch fabric and synthetic “suede”, the latter offering more protection for the palm and fingers than the Soft n Care, and wrapping round the back of the fingers to protect the tips.

My main beef is that they get soggy quickly in the wet. But in drier conditions, of all the gloves, I find these the most comfortable – a bit short between thumb and forefinger but otherwise the seams sit well between the fingers, all of which are a perfect length; they're stretchy, easy to work in, and reinforced in the right places.

NB Their website, which did have a useful downloadable sizing chart, has disappeared as Ethel seems to have been taken back into the fold by Mechanix.

Town and Country Aquasure These are aimed at women, but for those with rather differently shaped hands from mine.

I find they’re short in the finger, so the seams don’t sit properly between the old digits, yet still manage to put empty space between the end of my fingers and the end of theirs.

The cuff is an elasticated knit which lost its elastication quite early on and now flaps around, letting soil inside. And, after a year (of not constant use), the stitching along the inside of the thumb went and the vinyl started pulling away from a forefinger’s seams. As you’ll spot, this rather compromises their raison d’etre.

However, my bright pink pair were certainly easy to spot when I took them and, despite the dodgy fit, I found myself using them a lot when the ground was wet as, intact, they certainly did keep me dry. They're the cheapest of the pairs, so I guess you can't expect everything. Their website has a sizing chart.

Briers Washable Gardener

These are the sturdiest I’ve tried. Of sueded leather, they’re thick enough for me to don when I prune the blackberry.

They fit extremely well, fingers all the right length, sitting properly between thumb and forefinger. They only lack the extra stretch that makes the Ethel gloves so comfy.

The wrists are quite short but, being chunky, if they weren’t they would interfere with clothing. Partial elastication over the back of the wrist helps the fit.

Washability

I don’t normally wash gardening gloves, but in the interests of review, I tried. Ethel, Soft n Care and Briers Washable Leather all came up a treat on 40C in the washing machine: no shrinkage, still soft. Joe’s gloves recommend cold wash only.

Which is the best gardening glove?

So which is my favourite? Well, horses for courses. It all depends on the job "in hand" (sorry).

If I have something prickly to deal with, the Briers handle it well and their good fit adds dexterity (unlike those one-size-fits-all leather gauntlet types that only fit where they touch).  Of all the gloves I've tried, these are the ones I would travel to find again.

For wet soil, the Aquasure served well, and they're cheap enough to buy more often, but I prefer Soft n Care, especially if I’m weeding, and am willing to suffer a bit of water ingress for them.

While I love the Ethel gloves, I often reach for something else more specific to the above conditions, and to be honest I'm not sure I'd rush out to buy another pair for that reason. But Ethel is better in summer when getting wet is less of a problem and the breathable fabric is a definite plus. 

I'd probably ask for these as a present.

Do read the comments below. Julianne at Gwenfars Garden has lots to say, including this comment:

My favourite glove for really tough tasks, dealing with thorns, brambles etc, is the Gold Leaf ‘Tough Touch’ glove, which I blogged about a couple of years ago http://www.gwenfarsgarden.info/2011/11/solving-thorny-problem.html. They are perfect for tough jobs and they fit my fingers well.

And Rita Rushmore tweeted:

@HelenGazeley Current fav - Master Gardener thermal lined, haven't split, are warm, thornproof, waterproof. Should 'dip' the whole glove.

— Rita Rushmore (@RitaRushmore) February 6, 2014

And thank to VP for drawing attention to her review of Ethel gloves a couple of years ago.

I'd love to hear what other gloves you think worth buying, so do leave any recommendations/observations below. If your comment doesn't appear immediately, then it's probably caught in the spam filter and I'll instate when I do my daily spam inspection. Or you can email me (address above, right) and I'll add your response here.

All the gloves reviewed here were given to me by the respective companies.

Which is best - shoes or boots for gardening?

There are those who Make Do, and those who Make Right.

Putting up with a a hot tap, for six months, that needs rebuilding each time you turn it on is definitely Making Do [blush].  Researching thoroughly to find the perfect remedy to a problem is not (read: fundamental difference between Husband and self).

So, as I stepped back from the flowerbed onto uneven paving and fell off my garden clogs for the umpteenth time, I thought perhaps I should borrow some husbandly application before I twisted something.

What is the ideal gardening footware? A shoe challenge at May Dreams Gardens got people thinking (ouch to Ellie's favourites on my brambly bits) and, chances are, like them, you're building an ever-growing pile of old shoes by the backdoor. I spotted the flaw early on. Old shoes leak.

For some time, I used lace-up leather walking boots that someone had given me. Too much work.  I fear I wasn't up to the constant cleaning, polishing and dubbin-application that they desperately needed after being toe-down in mud.

Laces become unpleasantly soggy when jammed into wet clay (I garden mostly on my knees). And having to labour to get shoes off just encouraged me, in opposition to my admonishing self, to tread mud into the house when the doorbell rang.

No, gardening shoes need to be low-maintenance, easy to put on, easy to shuck off.

Clogs (I do love them) tick these boxes and are great for slipping on to cross the garden, but their soles feel unequal to the narrow edge of a spade, so I don't use them for digging, and (vide my undignified sprawl on the grass) support-wise they leave a bit to be desired.

What about wellies? All boxes ticked, not to mention trousers protected. But - how shall I put this? - some girls are more developed than others. I'm talking calves here! Give me an average welly and it jams halfway to my knee. (Although, more sophisticated models have an  adjustable girth.)

And memories of sweaty heels left naked by socks inching past my toes aren't enticing (though, of course, now you can get socks that tuck over welly tops).

Then I got another childhood flash.

My mother's Wellington boots weren't, to my hide-bound childish gaze, quite proper. They were white when they should have been black. And calf-length when they should have been knee-high (my calves, you realise, are Not My Fault). But now they make perfect sense. Easier to kick off, easier to access socks, easier to tuck in trousers.

So are calf-length wellies the answer? I'd have to try them. For now, I'd love to know what shoes/boots you favour, so please leave a comment and let us know what works for you in the garden.

Meanwhile, that quiet sobbing is me, as I realise I'm turning into my mother.

That scream of terror is my husband...

This post is sponsored by Burnhills. 

Small backdoorshoes in abundance

Back in February I told you about my new purchase of Backdoorshoes, which I can say are continuing to do their job and delight me every time I slip them on. This weekend the Daily Telegraph featured Stephen Avery, who set up the company. He's a lesson in entrepreneurial spirit, having launched innovative ideas for twenty years.

Consequently, he seems to have developed a gut instinct for what might work but, as with all new ideas, he had to be willing to take a punt.  One the problems he hadn't anticipated was that, as the shoes are made in batches containing a variety of sizes, he's growing a small mountain of the less popular size shoes. Obviously he didn't watch the Dragons' Den episode in which Lesley-Anne Simmonds was advised of the same problem. It's just as well, because Avery seems to be doing well and has already managed to direct some of his surplus into schools' projects.

If you need a large number of small clogs, he's going to pleased to hear from you!

 

My socks are safe at last

It’s the sort of thing I say I’ll never buy and then am really glad I did.

Last week saw the Garden Press Event 2010, a gathering of around sixty companies, showing off their wares to garden designers and various media writers, journalists and presenters.

Old hands use it to meet friends, liaise with editors and, no doubt, focus tightly on their particular interests. Others, like me (or perhaps just me?) bounce from stand to stand like an enthusiastic puppy.

Old hands stroll out with a few items of interest. Others (er, me) stagger out under the weight of brochures, price lists, press releases and samples. So burdened was I that the ten-minute walk to Vauxhall station was out of the question; I had to take a taxi.

My purchase? Well, I’m not the only person to think them really useful. One of the organisers told the stallholders that they’d never sell them (the show being about marketing, not selling), but by the time I swung by half an hour before closing, most of the stock had gone.