No Garden Gardening

It's only with the luxury of a 1 acre garden, that I realise you don't need a garden to be a successful gardener. If only I knew this when I had a small back yard in London. In truth all you need to grow some vegetables, is a bit of mud. And of course something to stop the mud from running away in the rain.

This Morning

You can of course use large flower pots, but they cost a lot, or a bath, or a bucket or a small nuclear submarine. But I quite fancy these old animal feed troughs. They cost around €30 and each contains two self contained compartments. 

Last Month

This compartment is for herbs and in the top photo you can see how productive these units are. Ok, they are a bit ugly, but that's where camouflage comes in . . .

Where did that Trough go?

OK, the trailing nasturtiums are still small, but in another month they will be in flower. As well as herbs, salads take well to these containers.

Mixed Salads

Here lettuce can grow away, safe from slugs and with the trough on the patio, fresh salad is never far away.

Or here, salad leaves and parsley

Just remember to drill some drainage holes

What a Difference a Year Makes . . .

This day last year I dug my first new potatoes.

Red Duke of York - 2011 Vintage

They were delicious. Being a traditional kind of guy, I insured they went into the ground on St Patricks Day (March 17th), and that was after the hardest winter in living memory.

By contrast, this winter was mild, mild, mild. So balmy in fact that my new spuds went into the ground a full three weeks early, in late February. We had a glorious March, I could almost taste the earliest-earlies ever, but I hadn't reckoned on fickly Miss April. It was the coldest in over a decade, the frost bit hard and I lost all my Ash Leaf Kidney. They were grubbed out in early May, which was colder and wetter than average, with Cork Airport 1.8 degrees below normal.

But according to the Met Office, summer officially starts tomorrow with temperatures in the mid-20's, so to celebrate, here's a little know verse about a hard spring, written by the Bard. *

It's nearly feckin' June,
My garden's yet to bloom . . .

The chives just haven't flowered,
The bees are under powered . . .

The Elderflower's just twigs,

There's no movement from the figs . . .

I cough, splutter and wheeze,

Nothin', just frozen peas . . .

I'm told summer starts tomorrow,
But still I'm filled with sorrow,

For there's dark clouds o'er this poem,
while outside, it's bloody snowin'.

* The Bard of East Cork is probably the worse ever poet, and should not be mistaken for that other guy what wrote Shakespeare and other plays n bukes. 

Amish Pole Beans & Paper Pots

One of the good things about travel, is that it gives the enthusiastic gardener a chance to get in touch with their inner plant hunter.

Back in March I found myself in Lancaster PA, which is pretty much the Amish heartland. Prior to visiting all I knew about the Amish came from the movie Witness. So I didn't get much beyond strange beards, a fetish for barns and a love for doing things the old fashioned way. That includes horse drawn ploughs and farming pretty much as our forefathers did for centuries.

I was anxious to take a bit of this heritage home with me, so contacted Lisa Von Saunders at Aimishland seeds, she specialises in rare varieties grown locally since the 1700's by the farmers who settled in the rich central Pennsylvania farmland where she now lives and works.

The vast selection of Pole, or French Beans on offer talks to a time when there were no fridges, and beans were a staple of the winter diet. One of the most interesting French Beans that caught my eye was the True Cranberry Pole Bean. Which probably means there's a False Cranberry Pole Bean out there somewhere.

This is one great looking bean, it's plump round and looks well, just like a cranberry, what's more according to Lisa it's probably one of the oldest varieties of Pole or French Bean available in the US. 

The Cranberries: Dolores O'Riordan is top right

I never had much luck with French Beans, last year's was a washout, they need a good blast of dry summer weather and since the economy went into free fall, Ireland Inc can't afford to turn on the sun any more. But these beans do look lovely, I'll just have to try again. 

I am told the True Cranberry Pole Bean is a very slow-growing and finicky bean, well suited to growing in Maine and Pennsylvania, but not that adjusted to life in Ireland's cool moist climate. So given the damp cold May we are enjoying, there was no way these babies were going straight into the ground. I need to get them started, but if I can wait until Mid-June before planting them out, I will.

This is a bean with history and worth growing for three reasons, firstly it looks great but just as important, it comes with not one, but two great stories - and I am a sucker for stories. This bean probably predates the Amish and was grown by the Abnaki Indians who originally lived the area now known as Maine. It is recorded as early as the 1700's but thereafter goes missing. It was thought lost until after an 11 year search, it was eventually found growing in a garden is Steep Falls ME by legendary bean collector John Withee.

Lisa also gave me a free gift (thanks!) in the shape of five mysterious beans, so we are into Jack and the Beanstalk territory now.

The striped beans at the back are Zebra Selma. I am told they are very early to mature and will continue to set pods profusely throughout the summer. They are supposed to be delicious and turn an appetising green colour when steamed. 

The lovely brown beans are Kentucky Wonder. Introduced by 1864, this bean was originally known as Old Homestead. Thirteen years later, in 1877, seedsman James J. H. Gregory & Son renamed this bean, calling it the Kentucky Wonder. By 1907, the USDA described it as the best known and most widely grown pole bean in America. Over a hundred years on, it's still one of the widest grown beans in US gardens.

The pretty white bean was a bit of a mystery. Initially I though it must be the notorious False Cranberry Pole Bean, in which case it's a pretty crap cranberry colour. But then I found a wee note telling it it was Romano, an Italian cultivar.

By the time I had planted all these beans, I had run out of small pots, and with a pile of leeks to sow it was time to make busy with the paper. It may look fiddly, but making pots a very relaxing thing to do.

Get your self some newspaper

And one of these paper pot makers

Slice the paper and roll it around the mould

Crumple in the end . . .

. . . and there you have it!

Note the personalised Brendan Coyle pot. He's an old mate so I know he'll approve!

A Herb Spiral

A Herb Spiral is a pretty easy way to add a little bit of Herbs de Provence to your Soup du Jour. What is it? Well it's basically a spiral, full of . . . ah, Herbs. It can be as wide and as tall as you want and this one, from start to finish was an easy days work.

So first things first, pick a sunny spot and mark out your circle with some rope or a giant pair of dividers.

Decide how large you want your Herb Spiral to be. Some people use a measuring tape, others use their children, as you can see this one is twice the length of a three year old (around two metres in old money).

Mark a Circle then Dig a Trench

A good deep trench is important, it will help give anchor the spiral and provide the soil you'll need to give the spiral height.

Next line the trench with the largest stones you can find . . .

Base Stones in position

But don't go full circle, just before the stones meet, angle the last stone in behind the first. The gap between the lines of stones is where you will plant your herbs. Continue laying stones sloping the soil upwards as you go. 

The Stone Spiral is Complete

Wash the stones, brushing the soil into the gaps as you do. Next go for a cup of tea or coffee, you've earned it.

Milk no Sugar

Then start planting, start at the top and work your way down. This pot bound trailing Rosemary is perfect for on top . . .

Rosemary in position . . .

at the top of the Sprial.

While underneath I used a mix of small plants from the garden centre, some of my own herbs which I had split and finally a scattering of Borage and Chervil seeds.

Plant up and Water

It will be a few weeks yet before the herbs fill out and the Herb Spiral looks like anything but a pile of rocks in the mud, but herbs do grow quickly and by mid-summer no doubt I'll be giving guided tours or the spiral.

Right now, time for another coffee.

Smell the Coffee

Hanging in there. . .

At this time of the year, too often garden blogs are just full of moans. You know, slugs, bugs and 'where the hell is the summer?' I'm not beyond a moan or two of my own, but sometimes we gardeners need to kick back and just smell the coffee.

All the photos on this post were taken early this morning, sometime after 7:30am, when the sun was low and the air fresh after a night of rain. 

Still Climbing

Yes overnight the slugs had chewed my peas, the wood pigeons had eaten my brassicas and the killer ants had run off with one of the hens, but the sky was clear and bright with birdsong, and the morning surprisingly mild.

Beech Hedging

If you look carefully the Copper Beech is about to burst into green, while the large Quince flowers are ready for pollination. It's as if the world, tired after struggling to the top of a roller coaster was just holding its breath, waiting for the inevitable, slowly inching forward, before at last, yielding to the rush of summer.

The River Bride

It was a prefect morning to cycle to the shops, to do everything a bit slower, to stop on the bridge, listen to the rush of river, watch the first swallows reel and know that summer was unstoppable. It will happen in its own good time.

Work in Progress

The Back of the Shed Door - 10 am

To a greater or lesser extent every garden is a constant work in progress. There's always something to cut/plant/trim/tie/execute. This particular Kitchen Garden is now entering its fourth season and each year it's got a bit larger and a bit more organised. Some of the things (like this new coat hook) are quite small steps forward (no more leaving jackets on the damp grass), others like the latest garden extension are a bit more ambitious.

The Kitchen Garden as it was three weeks ago, with the three new beds in place.

This morning 10:30

There's still work to be done, but it is coming along. Expect more photos are the garden develops and matures. 

The three new beds all contain main crop potatoes, Records, Maris Peer and Pink Fir Apple. Spuds are great for breaking new ground and next year these beds will enter an expanded crop circulation plan that will (for the first time) include grain.

Artwork by 11 year old Artist-in Residence

In this house we just love Oatmeal and I have been inspired by Madeline at Brown Envelope Seeds whose Naked Oats allowed her to grow her own breakfast. The main problem with DIY porridge Oats, is getting rid of the very coarse outer hull that protects the bit you want to eat. For example at the nearest mill, Flahavans in County Waterford, the hulls that are stripped from the grain are burnt to help power the plant. Growing Naked Oats sounds easier than installing a furnace.

11 am

The first week of Summer (ha! ha!) was a total wash out, I think it rained every day so this morning the beds were like something Sponge Bob would sleep in. However as I had some precious free time which I didn't want to waste, I broke out the potting compost and started off a variety of seeds that were burning a hole in my dibber. I have dispensed with the colour green this year so sowed Black and Yellow Courgettes, and Blue and Orange Pumpkins. Just to make myself clear, that's four separate cultivars and not a couple of striped/polka dot ones.

Noon: Not at all Magic

By Midday it was time to stop for coffee, and on my way into the house some proof (if proof be needed) that as summers go, so far this has been a very moist one.

May Day

At least the Ladies are Keeping us in Food

So this is it, May Day.

In the old Celtic calendar May 1st was the festival of Bealtine (pronounced B-ow-l –tin-a), the first day of summer. Traditionally this was when bonfires were lit to signal the move to summer pastures, yes in this corner of Ireland when hail turns to sleet, you just know it's summer.

April was as cold and miserable as month as I remember. In the Kitchen Garden anything that had been fooled into growing by a warm March got pelted by hail, blasted by frost, or flattened by a plague of frogs. Ok, I lied about the frogs.

Frog Blasted Spuds

Out there it’s like A&E on a Friday night. My potatoes are scarred beyond belief, while the Broad Beans have been transferred to the Intensive Care Unit. The usually reliable spinach and radish, stunned by nature’s mindless violence, have just stopped growing. That or they are on strike and I haven’t been informed. It goes on. The Early Onward peas have changed their name to Late Retreating, while the Lincoln peas are as active as the US president with the same name. That or they’ve been eaten, by something. 

It’s a jungle out there and the Chav weeds, loaded up on red bull and vodka and the slugs in their shiny shell suits are in their element. Everywhere there are little pots jammed with compost and very little signs of the green shoots we take for granted this time of the year. It’s as if the politicians and bankers who drove this country into the ground have diversified into running our weather. 

However all is not lost, outside there are eggs while inside little miracles are unfolding. Those of you who remember my rant about growing parsnips will be thrilled to know that my experiment with pre-sprouting seed has worked. Maybe this year I will finally harvest some parsnips. If you want to give your parsnips a head start this year, try this.

Get a plate

Add Kitchen Paper and Water

Get Your Parsnip Seeds

And Sprinkle them . . .

On to the Wet Paper

Cover with cling film and leave in a coolish place for a week to ten days.

Success!