RHS Chelsea Flower Show 2013

As a plant lover it might seem strange that I’ve never visited the RHS Chelsea Flower Show before. My lack of attendance has often been due to being away at the same time of year or down to a lack of organisation when it comes to ordering tickets. I’m always glued to the TV coverage every year though, kicking myself that I’m not there. But all that changed yesterday when at last I got a chance to see the show gardens and the great pavilion for myself.

I’m not sure why but my brain always conspires against me when I need sleep the most. For some reason knowing I need to get up early for something a little out of the ordinary say to catch a flight, or in this instance to get to Chelsea, means I spend the night tossing and turning trying desperately to sleep but failing miserably. I had that sinking feeling as I looked at the alarm clock and another hour had passed and I STILL wasn’t asleep. So I collected my press pass after having had about only two hours sleep and feeling more than a little bleary-eyed. I was worried I’d have to seek out somewhere for a surreptitious snooze but fortunately the excitement to be there kicked in.

Held in the grounds of the Royal Hospital Chelsea it might not be the largest flower show in the world (that’s Hampton Court) but it is seen as the most prestigious. And, this year it was celebrating its 100th anniversary. On press day the gates open early. I was there just after 8am but it was already a hive of activity with photographers busy capturing the best shots, TV crews recording footage and RHS judges making their way around, marking the designs in preparation for the medal awards today. Seeing this whole aspect was fascinating in itself.

Strawberries in wellies

Of all the flower shows it’s Chelsea that is really about garden design. In preparation I had read about the individual gardens and the ideas behind them so I had been eagerly anticipating seeing them for real. Perhaps though there is a danger in putting out too much preview material because some of the gardens didn’t live up to the hype in my opinion. They weren’t bad just not as good as I had hoped they would be. I’m a huge fan of the Swedish designer Ulf Nordjfell but found his planting a bit of a let down. It’s fair to say that the growers and designers have had a dreadful year trying to get plants into leaf and flower after such a cold spring and I think it was quite visible in some gardens and Ulf’s was one of them. I had also had high hopes for the Brewin Dolphin sponsored garden by Robert Myers but sadly didn’t like it at all. The planting, although pretty just wasn’t different enough and I REALLY disliked the furniture that had been chosen.

Chris Beardshaw Garden RHS Chelsea Flower Show 2013

I did however love Chris Beardshaw’s garden. The planting was truly stunning, vibrant, colourful and plenty of it. There was an added element to this garden for me. Chris designed the garden for the Arthritis Research UK charity as he had been diagnosed with a form of arthritis at the age of 19. For me the garden was an inspiration. The idea that he has forged such a successful career as a garden designer and plantsman whilst enduring the pain and difficulties that his condition must have caused gave this garden a depth that was lacking in the other designs.

Un Garreg Artisan Garden RHS Chelsea Flower Show 2013

The artisan gardens are much smaller, between 20 and 35 square metres, budgets are less and, rather than spending a lot of money on hard landscaping, plants are always the main focus. Set away from the main avenue along a wooded avenue I loved the escape from the hustle and bustle and the fact that you could get up close to these gardens. The attention to detail was incredible. My favourite was Un Garreg which means ‘one stone’ in Welsh and was inspired by the landscape of the Brecon Beacons, the home to the young designers and brothers Henry and David Rich. I’ve spent quite a bit of time walking in this stunning part of Wales, not far from where I live, and loved the evocation of a piece of Welsh countryside in the heart of London. Details such as tiny ferns poking from the dry stone walls, the beautiful planting and keeping the carbon footprint to a minimum by using one boulder from a local quarry for the garden’s hard landscaping meant I was thrilled to see that they won a gold.

For a Chelsea virgin seeing the who’s who of the gardening world was fun. If I’d thought about it a little more I could have played celebrity gardener bingo but juggling my camera, notepad and pen, and the ever-increasing amount of paper about the gardens and nurseries I was collecting, as the day went on, meant I could have done with an extra pair of hands as it was.

Despite some misgivings about certain gardens, feeling ever so slightly ripped off by the price of food and drink available and the inordinate amount of time it took to order a cup of tea I really enjoyed my first visit to Chelsea. There was so much to like, there was a buzz in the air and a feeling that you were somewhere where people shared a common passion for plants. I liked the eccentricity of elements of it. The introduction of gnomes for one year only and the frog noises coming from the Australian ‘best in show’ winning garden. I’m not sure why some still feel the need to have young women in tiny outfits posing on their stand or for photos. I really felt for them huddled in coats trying to keep warm until the next reveal.

There was so much to see – the fresh gardens, the great pavilion and of course the plants that I can’t squeeze it all into one post so I’ll write more over the coming days.

Dicentra spectabilis alba

Writing my blog has shown me how much my mood is affected by the weather. It’s a fairly obvious observation that we feel happier when the sun shines and glum when it’s grey and wet but somehow seeing how I write over the course of the year, my choice of subject matter and how these reflect the weather outside has emphasised just how much it impacts on me. I had the pleasure of meeting the lovely Sejal again on Saturday night. A fellow attendee at Lia and Juliet’s supper club in Bristol she also reads my blog and it was interesting that my preoccupation with the weather and, in particular the amount of rain we get in Wales had been noted. Of course, my last post will have done nothing to change the perception that I am obsessed by the weather. So I thought I should try to redress the balance a little and write about the plus side to all the rain we’ve had in the last week or so. And I promise that’s the last time I mention the ‘r’ word, in THIS post at least.

The garden has become lush with leafy, green growth at last. I love this time of year when the plants fill out. The crab apple in full blossom, followed by its leafy canopy and the acer in the far corner of my garden screen the fence, neighbours’ out-buildings and houses. The garden starts to feel enclosed once again and I no longer feel like I’m on display to the whole world as I potter about. There’s a point where the change in the garden is quite sudden and it always takes me by surprise. One day I’ll be stood, looking out of the kitchen window and think ‘wow when did that all happen?’

Lathyrus vernus

A wander around brings a few squeals of excitement as plants I had completely forgotten about have reappeared like my Lathyrus vernus for instance. I first saw this at Painswick Rococo Garden in Gloucestershire flowering in late March and thought it was a lovely little plant. Last year I tracked one down but when it didn’t seem to be poking through the soil I feared I might have lost it. But fear not, it must have just been biding its time through the cold spring and it has emerged with its delicate purply-pink flowers.

There’s also been the discovery of a small patch of red campion by the side of my path. I’ll admit I do have a tendency to forget which plants I’ve bought and what I have put where. I do envy people who have an encyclopaedic knowledge of their plants, especially when their garden stretches to acres but it isn’t something I’m blessed with. I’m convinced, however that I have never purchased a campion plant so its appearance is an intriguing but welcome addition to the shady border.

There’s reacquainting myself with favourite plants. The pure white hearts of my white dicentra which would normally be going over by now dangle above the foliage of geraniums. The white and purple forms of viola cornuta which edge my paths and self-sown aquliegias that have popped up all over the place. I’m also eagerly anticipating the new plants added to my back border. I finally got around to removing some of the astrantia that had taken over but wanted to keep a soft, feeling, almost hedgerow-like and so have planted some foxgloves and wild carrot in there. They are still a while off flowering but should look good by mid-June.

The espalier apple is looking good and has timed its blossom opening perfectly with the crab apple so that pollination should be ensured, just as long as the bees can brave the cold. There are fewer forget-me-nots than I would like. Even though they self seed I would normally sow some extras in June or July for the following spring but I forgot last year. So I’m making a note to remind me when I come to sow my biennials in a month or so.

Geranium phaeum ‘Lily Lovell’

Geranium phaeum ‘Lily Lovell’ is just coming into flower. I love its rich purple colour which stands out so much more now that we have painted the fence. I love the contrast between the purple flowers and the bluey-green background. It doesn’t have a long flowering season but is out just long enough to grab any available light before the canopy of the crab apple casts its shade on this corner. It has been a bit on the chilly side recently to linger in the garden but if I shuffle the plants around in the greenhouse I can linger in there with a cup of tea and appreciate my spring garden at last.

My crab apple in bloom at last

So it appears that pesky old jet stream is playing havoc with our weather again. Chilly nights, possible frosts and even the ‘s’ word has been mentioned for some parts of the country and yet it’s nearly the middle of May. I can empathise with the central character from the film Jean de Florette at the moment when he’s down on his knees looking up to the sky hoping that his prayers will be answered for the torrential, seemingly never-ending rain to stop. For me, and I’m sure all gardeners out there we’re hoping for some warmth to return.

My crab apple finally came into blossom last week, a whole five weeks later than last year. My dicentra, a plant that is normally one of the first herbaceous perennials to flower in late March is only just sending out its pendant-like blooms. But, more importantly, I have a serious blockage. Windowsills are now groaning under the volume of pots, the greenhouse is so full I can’t even stand in it and there’s no more space left in the cold frames. Plants should, at this point, be moving through – some going into the ground at the plot, some being hardened off and second batches being sown of others. The plants are growing at a pace in the more clement conditions of my greenhouse and home but knowing they will either sulk or die if planted out I’ve had to embark on some serious potting on. I would normally only pot on into 9cm pots and then once those had been filled it would be time to plant out. This year I’ve got plants in 1 litre pots and some in 2 litre pots. The logistics of it all are proving somewhat trying.

Too many plants

I’ve noticed recently on twitter the difference having a polytunnel seems to make. I read with envy the tweets about the crops that are already producing under cover and wonder whether climate change means that the  only real way to grow in Britain in the future will be in polytunnels. I live in a part of the country where there has been quite considerable debate about the merits of covering vast swathes of land in plastic. There are parts of the Wye Valley and Herefordshire where field after field is under cover. Whether it’s to grow strawberries or asparagus, to produce early crops or simply to protect them from the weather, many argue they are a terrible blot on the landscape. The rolling hills and patchwork of fields are beautiful and it would be sad to see them swallowed up under polytunnels but the reality of what it must be like to earn your living from growing has really hit home since I took on my own allotment. For me it doesn’t matter if a crop fails. Don’t get me wrong it’s annoying, frustrating and disappointing but we won’t starve, I can simply pop along to the supermarket or farmers’ market and pick up something for dinner. But if your living depends on the crops you grow being a success then the British climate can be your downfall. And, how agriculture and horticulture deal with the weather should matter to us too if as consumers we want a ready supply of food. The idea that we could have another year like the last one makes me wonder how many businesses could cope and how many of us gardeners would lose the enthusiasm for growing our own.

Polytunnels, particularly when used on a large-scale bring their problems. Where does all that rainwater go that runs off the plastic? Some argue it causes flooding. Then there’s the glare created from sunlight, if we ever get any, bouncing off the plastic covering. There’s the manufacture of all that plastic, although a lot of it is now recycled once finished with. On the other hand growers say they use fewer fungicides and they have almost eliminated problems caused by wet weather on soft fruit crops. I know how many strawberries I lost last year to mould caused by too much rain. Whether you believe in man-made climate change or not it is hard to deny that our weather is becoming more unpredictable. In the nineties we were told a warmer climate would be of benefit to growers in the UK. We’d be basking in Mediterranean temperatures growing olives and all manner of exotics. It’s a complicated business predicting the weather let alone our future climate and so it seems those initial suggestions are fading away. Instead, the seasons are becoming quite muddled and when it rains it doesn’t seem to know when to stop. Parts of Wales had a month’s worth of rain yesterday. Growing under cover certainly seems to be one way of coping with whatever the weather may bring.

My small, unheated greenhouse even on a cold wet day feels quite warm, and protected from the wind and rain it’s no wonder my plants inside are growing quickly. The reality outside is somewhat different. Our growing season is short enough so at the moment I’m weighing up my options. Emigrating sounds appealing but for the time being unrealistic, putting up a walk-in polytunnel on my allotment is prohibited and getting a larger garden where I could erect said tunnel isn’t the cheapest of ideas. For the moment I think some cobbled together mini tunnels with the help of Wellyman this weekend is the only solution. Oh, and making an offering to the sun gods in the hope that Mother Nature will be kinder to us this year.

The Ethicurean Cookbook

I’m passionate about local and seasonal food. If I can’t grow it myself then I’ll try to source it from a farmers’ market or at least look for British food at the supermarket, When it comes to eating out the provenance of the food is equally important. Years ago we went out with a group of friends to a restaurant which, as we were to discover, was a very loose description of the place. Chosen by another member of the group it wasn’t somewhere we would have ordinarily picked but we persevered. Unfortunately it was one of those eating establishments that helped to give British food such a dreadful reputation. One of our friends on the table muttered under their breath, as he attempted to cut the slab of insipid looking meat on his plate, that the chicken hadn’t had a happy life. It ended up being one of the most soul-destroying meals I think I’ve ever had.

In complete contrast is the Ethicurean. A restaurant just south of Bristol it’s based in the Victorian glasshouse at the heart of a productive walled garden. The team of young chefs behind the restaurant are passionate about local, seasonal food and they have built up an impressive reputation in a short space of time for tasty, inspiring food.

I first heard about the Ethicurean about a year ago and have been lucky to eat there a few times. Initially, the location in a walled garden was probably as much of a draw as the food. I have a bit of a thing for walled gardens, there’s something so magical about them. The location is impressive with views from the restaurant out across the south sloping garden and the Somerset countryside beyond. The food didn’t disappoint either, being inventive but not in a snail porridge sort of way and, most importantly, it was delicious. And now the foursome, Iain, Jack, Matthew and Paula have created their first cookbook.

First impressions on receiving the book were good. I loved the design. It’s unusual to find a recipe book without a picture of food or some celebrity chef adorning the front cover. Immediately this said to me that this book might be something different. The photography by Jason Ingram is beautiful. Images not just of the food but also of the walled garden, the team and traditions such as the wassail all give the book a real sense of place. There’s a feeling that the team really do have an affinity with the landscape, nature, the seasons and the walled garden and that it hasn’t all been conjured up by a TV producer.

Seasonality is crucial to the chefs making them ethicureans and not just epicureans. Gardener Mark grows fruit, vegetables and herbs and the chefs seek out other ingredients from the growing number of small-scale producers in the local area, whether it’s goat meat, salt-marsh lamb, water buffalo or local cheeses. They also forage and make use of the abundant game in the countryside. Reflecting this seasonality the book takes us through a year at the walled garden. I loved this element. The descriptions of the frost clothing the vegetable beds and apple trees, the first signs of spring, the abundance of summer to the fruits and fungi of autumn. In the days before air-freight, cooking was inextricably linked with growing and the seasons and the team at the Ethicurean are trying to rekindle these connections.

The food looks and sounds delicious and I can vouch for the goat meatball recipe which I have sampled at the restaurant. I would say this is a book for more adventurous/confident cooks though. Some recipes include techniques such as smoking and there are quite a lot of ingredients that won’t be so easily available to everyone or will at least need some tracking down. Having said that the nettle and squash soups, the milk stout and chocolate steamed pudding and the Eccles cakes all look easy to make.

It’s impressive to discover that the chefs are self-taught and they’re generous with their hints and tips throughout the book. They extol the virtues of pressure cookers (I’ve always been nervous of them since my mum’s exploded!) to pickling nasturtium seeds to produce something akin to capers. And it’s not just food that’s covered. The Ethicureans love their drink, from the cider and apple juice made from fruit from the garden and pressed on-site to their tempting cocktails. You get the feeling these guys know how to party.

I’ve already earmarked a patch of newly emerging nettles for some soup this weekend and Wellyman is eyeing up the apple, pear, cardamon and chocolate cake. For me the only real disappointment about the book was discovering that they already have a flower gardener. Growing flowers in the Barley Wood walled garden with all that tasty food so close-by, now that would be a dream job.

Thanks to Sarah at Ebury Press for a copy of the book.

The Ethicurean is out on May 16th.

For more details about the restaurant visit the Barley Wood Walled garden website. http://www.walledgarden.co.uk/cafe1.html

Pear Blossom

On the vegetable front the past few weeks have been mostly about peas and beans. Not only have I been sowing mangetout, ‘Sweet Horizon’, a maincrop pea, ‘Hurst Greenshaft’ and broad beans, ‘Masterpiece Green Longpod’ but we’ve been feasting on peas shoots for a while now. I absolutely love broad beans but it wasn’t always that way. My memory of broad beans was those dreadful grey, dry, woolly things I was fed in the eighties. *shudders* The broad beans we eat now bear no resemblance, pick them when young and double pod them and the vivid green captures early summer on the plot. It’s difficult to buy organic broad beans, and even non-organic are sooooo expensive. For me, they are a must on our plot.

Until last year I had never thought it was worth growing my own peas. Frozen peas are nutritious and easy to come by. I did grow some sugar snaps though, and occasionally some of them swelled so much that we needed to discard the outer casing and eat the peas inside. Eaten straight away, and raw in salads they were so incredibly sweet and tasty. So, last year actual peas were introduced to the plot and despite the weather were a real success. Both sets of peas and the broad beans are all planted out now.

Making a bid for freedom – my forced rhubarb

Everything is crazily busy at the moment, hence my absence from blogging for a while. I’m either at the computer writing or in the greenhouse. My apologies if comments don’t go up for a while and I don’t get back to you or I don’t make it over to your blog. I still read all your comments and really appreciate you popping by. I would really love it if there were a few extra hours in each day. I did, however manage to get out for a bit of a walk on Saturday. Pentwyn Farm near Monmouth is an idyllic spot even if the cold wind had returned. It’s an area of unimproved grassland owned by Gwent Wildlife Trust.  A habitat that’s quite rare now, the fields are managed to protect the wide variety of wild flowers that grow there. We tend to come up here in early summer to see the orchids. It was strange to wander around through the fields in late April and there be so little to see. If you didn’t know what was hiding away in the soil waiting to appear you’d be forgiven for wondering why Pentwyn Farm is so important. This was the first time we’d used the new nature trail the wildlife trust have created. It took us down the valley and out past a field of Hebridean sheep which are being used to manage the grassland. There was also the slightly disconcerting sight of a couple of alpacas. It’s not that unusual now to see alpacas in the British countryside, brought in to protect newborn lambs from foxes, or kept for their wool. I still find it funny to see them, a touch of the Andes in Wales.

Cowslips

It may be May in a few days time but the landscape feels like it is only very reluctantly emerging into spring. Trees are coming to life but it was hard to imagine the fields in a month or so’s time, covered in orchids, eyebright, and yellow rattle. Then, just as we were leaving, we came across a field of cowslips. It’s been a great year for primroses, the cooler conditions meaning their flowering season has been long but we hadn’t come across any cowslips until yesterday. Unlike its cousin the primrose, cowslips need more sunshine and an open site in order to thrive. Once an abundant plant it played a significant role in the celebration of spring’s arrival but intensive agriculture and spraying of herbicides lead to a dramatic decline in their numbers, along with so many of our wild flowers. My own garden is teeming with primroses but I have only one cowslip plant which my mum gave me last year. The first thing I did when we got back from the walk was to go and see if it was flowering yet. And there they were, a couple of stems with delicate yellow trumpet-like flowers.

Asparagus spears

To complete the spring theme we came across the first bundle of asparagus spears in a local deli. I was surprised to see them to be honest. I had thought the cold spring would have delayed the harvest but it appears not. It was impossible to resist them even if the price tag was a little steep. The season is so short that they are such a treat to have over the coming weeks. Herefordshire and Worcestershire are proud of their asparagus growing, there’s a festival to celebrate the green spears with food, music and even inflatable asparagus. When it comes to cooking asparagus I prefer simplicity. I do occasionally put it in quiches or frittatas, but steamed with a few shavings of parmesan or with goats cheese and parma ham are my favourites. When it comes to snapping off the woodier base of a spear, my asparagus tip (sorry, dreadful pun, I know) is don’t throw the ends away. If you make your own vegetable stock they make a great addition giving it a lovely sweet flavour. I put the ends in a freezer bag, collecting them over the course of the asparagus season and keep them in the freezer. When you’re making your stock just get a few out and put in the simmering water along with your other veg.

R A Scamp Daffodils at Cardiff Show

I’ve lived in south Wales for nearly six years now but today was my first visit to the RHS show in Cardiff. It’s the first of the outdoor shows, kicking off the gardening calendar and for the last two years has been the culmination of National Gardening Week.

I think in the past I’ve been put off by the timing of the show. Held in April it does suffer from the vagaries of the weather. I have a friend who has visited for the last few years and needed her winter down-filled coat one year and was in a summery dress the following year. Having said that with our changing climate you could probably say that about August. I did think it was about time I supported my local show though. I recently read that the Edible Garden Show, normally held near Coventry, is now moving to a new home in London and think it’s a pity that everything gravitates towards the capital. I’ve also been hunkered down in my study and/or greenhouse for the last few weeks working on my book and growing my plants as the deadline looms ever closer, so felt like I deserved a day out. So with that in mind Cardiff beckoned.

The Sea Spring Seeds Stand – inspirational veg growing

The show is set in Bute Park, the grounds of Cardiff Castle, in the city centre.  It’s smaller than other RHS shows and more compact but these weren’t negatives by any means. You need stamina for the other shows, particularly if you’re on a plant buying mission. My day at Cardiff was a much more relaxed and leisurely experience. That’s not to say I didn’t come armed with a shopping list. Thanks to the RHS’s great website I had already had a look through the nurseries that would be participating, so I had an idea about what I’d be looking for. Staddon Farm Nurseries and their Primula sieboldii collection was too hard to resist particularly in light of my new found primula plant addiction. There was a visit to Sea Spring Seeds’ stand. I had seen their stunning collection of colourful chillies at the Abergavenny Food Festival last year and having run out of space to germinate any more seeds I made a bee-line for their young plants. I plumped for Hungarian Hot Wax. A paltry 6,000 on the scoville heatness scale but then both Wellyman and I are wusses when it comes to spicy food.

Wheelbarrow garden competition

I loved that there were quite a few school groups there, wandering around, having a look at the show gardens and the floral marquees. Some of them had entered the wheelbarrow garden competition that was on display near the entrance to the showground. An inspired idea with some brilliantly inventive designs, lets hope it inspires some budding gardeners for the future.

Considering the prolonged cold start to the year and, up until very recently, the lack of anything remotely spring-like it was amazing that the nurseries in the marquees put on such a stunning show. I think my favourite had to be R A Scamp Daffodils from Falmouth in Cornwall.

‘Up-cycle’ show garden

Perhaps the weakest element of this event were the show gardens. They were small and some lacking in any great design or even plants in some cases. Having said that I loved the colours and ideas behind Wade and Nicol Landscape’s ‘Up-cycle’ garden. Wellyman has already been tasked with making some wooden pallet seats for the garden this year.

The weather is looking settled for the weekend so if you fancy a spot of gardening indulgence pop along to Cardiff, you won’t be disappointed.

For more details about RHS Cardiff Show

On the theme of RHS shows, would you like the chance to win tickets to this year’s Chelsea Flower Show. The clothing company Jacques Vert contacted me to say that they are running a competition and would I mention it on my blog. This isn’t an endorsement for them and I don’t receive anything for this but I thought it could be a great opportunity for you to be in with the chance of winning tickets. The prize is two tickets to RHS Chelsea Show for Friday 24th May 2013. Travel and accommodation are NOT included. The closing date is midnight Tuesday 7th May and the winner will be notified by email by 9th May. You need to be over 18 to enter. If you fancy giving it a go you can enter at the Jacques Vert blog.   Good Luck!

Newly mulched garden border

For a couple of years now I have been searching for a good source of compost to mulch my garden and allotment, with no success. It has been frustrating to say the least. It wasn’t as if my soil had gone completely without any new organic matter. There have been toppings of leaf mould, spent compost from containers and the occasional dollop of home-made stuff but none of it goes very far. There’s something about mulching your soil, covering it in rich, crumbly organic matter, that makes me feel like a proper gardener but the soil levels in some of my raised beds had dropped and I knew I needed to get hold of a large delivery and soon.

For sowing and in containers I tend to use New Horizon’s multi-purpose compost but it would be an expensive habit to use this as a garden mulch. I have a compost bin in the garden for kitchen and garden waste and another at the allotment but it’s surprising how little compost they actually generate. The regular supply of horse manure that used to be delivered has dried up too. My local council used to sell green waste, once it was composted, at a local garden centre. It was pretty dreadful stuff though. We went along one day to have a look at it but we could smell it as soon as we got out of the car and the aroma wasn’t good. As you approached it you could feel the heat coming off it. I’m generally of the opinion that if something smells bad it’s best avoided, and there was no way it was going inside the car. A few days later I heard how it had been used by a local Britain in Bloom group and that it had killed the plants they had just planted into it. Something was clearly not right with the composting process and last year I read that the company had their licence removed for breaches of health and safety legislation at the composting site.

There’s one plot at the allotments with bags piled up of truly gorgeous black stuff. The plot holder is a dentist and has a lot of farmers as patients. A couple of us think he extracts agreement from them to supply him whilst he’s also extracting their teeth. I’m not a fan of going to the dentist and I’d probably agree to anything if I had a drill coming towards me. Without such contacts or powers of persuasion I ended up spending the best part of 2 mornings last week on the internet, the phone and on twitter trying to track down some compost.

I found places which sold farmyard manure but I’m still wary that this could be contaminated with the herbicide that caused so many problems a few years ago. The other alternative was mushroom compost which I’ve heard is great stuff particularly for brassica crops. But even that has animal manures in it and is no to be used around acid loving plants because of the lime it contains. Green waste compost was really what I was looking for. We thought we’d cracked it but then discovered that the product had added fertilisers in it, artificial ones and as I grow organically this was no good either. Then there were places that had the right product but would only deliver loose and as we don’t have a driveway I don’t think the neighbours would have been too happy with a small mountain of compost dumped in the access road.

Finally, I was put in touch with a really helpful man from a company who deal with the green waste from several neighbouring counties. I think he could tell I was on the verge of giving up. Apparently there was a recycling centre that wasn’t too far from us and they sold it by the bag for £2. I did the sums and it was significantly cheaper than anything else I had been quoted. Wellyman picked up a test bag and later that night as I spread it around of the beds I was hoping it wouldn’t be riddled with rubbish. I nearly did a little dance because it was gorgeous. Dark, crumbly, not a sign of plastic and it smelt, like it should, of woodland floor.

So, on Saturday, we made several trips, filling the boot. Ideally Wellyman wouldn’t have picked up a brand new car the day before and we wouldn’t have spent the journeys worrying that the suspension was going to break. And, in hindsight, it would have made more sense to do it on a day when it wasn’t raining. By the time we had emptied the bags around the garden and the plot, the combination of compost and rain meant we looked like we had just emerged from a swamp.

I’m a happy gardener now though. It’s strangely satisfying looking out on to the dark mulch that now covers the borders. I love a bit of neatness and order and it certainly appeals to that side of me. We need to make another trip to finish off at the plot but at last the quest is over.

Buds on my crab apple

I’ve been feeling a little bit grumpy of late. The weather has been preoccupying me somewhat. With my book deadline looming and photo shoots booked I’ve been anxiously looking at a garden and allotment that should be springing into life. Instead I’ve got bare soil and plants that are sulking, sitting there waiting for some warmer weather. The first photos of the year have already had to be postponed and now it’s a waiting game with me wondering whether spring and summer will arrive in time.

Over the last week or so I’ve started to write a post but I’ve heard my words as I type and I just sounded pretty fed up. I don’t like writing when I feel like that. Sometimes it can be cathartic but most of the time I find it just compounds my thoughts rather than relieving them. I promised myself I would only post if I could write something more positive, rather than inflicting my rants and frustrations on you all. So today I bring you flowers to cheer, green shoots and seedlings galore.

Heartsease

Last week I finally managed to plant up my purchases from my break in Cornwall. My run-in with some ropy seafood and a spell of decorating indoors has meant that they have languished in my cold frame for nearly a month now. I’d chosen a selection of shade loving, spring-flowering plants. a pretty little heartease and a sweet violet which was in bloom when I bought it in mild Cornwall, but a spell in colder Wales has made it a shrinking violet and there are no flowers to be seen at the moment.

My gold-laced primulas don’t seem too perturbed by the lack of warmth though. I’ve developed a bit of a primula addiction recently. Lynne Lawson from Barnhaven Primulas recommended a book to me, ‘The Polyanthus’ by Roy Genders. Written in the 1960s I managed to track down a copy on the internet and I’m now hooked. Hence my other purchases of Primula ‘Francisca’ and P. sieboldii ‘Snowflake’. Francisca has really unusual green, ruffled flowers which are tantalisingly close to opening and ‘Snowflake’ has small, white flowers with intricately cut petals which are held on tall stems above the foliage. My P. denticulata are just coming into flower. This is my first year of growing them and I’m intrigued to discover that they have quite a strange way of producing their flowers. Rather than sending up a stem and then the flower buds opening, the flowers are opening in a tightly packed rosette nestled in amongst the leaves, instead. I had thought it was something I had done but in the last few days I’ve noticed the stems are starting to elongate, carrying the globe of individual flowers upwards. Apparently this is perfectly normal and what these drumstick primulas do.

Primula denticulata

The Bodmin Plant and Herb Nursery in Cornwall is one of my favourites and no visit to the area is complete without a trip here. They have the most amazing selection of herbs. I never realised there were so many different types of rosemary and thyme for instance until I wandered into one of their polytunnels. This time I was tempted by a pot of parcel or leaf celery. Celery itself is notoriously hard to grow and I’ve never attempted it but the leaves of parcel taste just like celery and can be added to soups towards the end of cooking to give a celery flavour. I’m also hoping they’ll taste good in omelettes and salads.

My herb planters are otherwise engaged at the moment, planted up with tulips I couldn’t get into the ground last winter because of all the rain. But once they have finished flowering the parcel can go in the zinc baths along with my other herbs which have spent the winter in the greenhouse.

It may have been unseasonably cold so far this spring, and this may have played havoc with plants outdoors but we have been lucky in this part of Wales to have had some lovely sunshine at least. And, behind the glass on my windowsills, seeds have been germinating at a pace. In fact, my seedlings are at the stage I would expect them to be for the time of year. I sowed some zinnias at the start of April and they had popped up within days. The addition of a heated propagator this year has made a difference, certainly with some flowers I’m growing which needed to be started off in February. I’ve also tried to do everything properly, using seed compost for seed sowing rather than just multi-purpose and incorporating perlite. Germination from most seeds has been good but there have still been disappointments and frantic resowing in the hope I don’t lose any time.

Broad beans ready and waiting

In the greenhouse the broad beans have finally started to grow. I’ve potted them on into bigger pots and they can sit in the cold frame for a few weeks now. I much prefer to plant out substantial plants if I can and my February sown broad beans are even a little further on than some of those my allotment neighbours sowed back in November. I’m pleased I ignored the weather and sowed trays of lettuce, peas, beetroot and spinach. We have a fairly short growing season anyway so anything to try to gain some extra time is worth it for me.

seedlings in the greenhouse

My windowsills are pretty much at full capacity at the moment so some milder weather would be welcome, allowing me to move a few hardy annuals into the greenhouse. Oh, and I did get quite excited yesterday to discover the first shoots of a dahlia poking through the compost. I let out a bit of a squeal, loud enough for Wellyman to come downstairs to see what was going on. I think he thought I’d discovered a mouse or something.

So I’m trying to defy mother nature as best as I can but soon my plants will have to go outside. Lets just hope by then spring, at least, has arrived.

Wood Anemone

I’m all for trying something new. Seeing and doing something different is not only fun but, as the saying goes, stretches the mind, makes us view people and places in a different light and challenges us and our opinions. But as with most things businesses and the media latch on to this and now we’re bombarded with the notion that life is a series of experiences to cross off a list. There was a time in the pre-economic doom years when travel programmes showed us the places we should be going to if we wanted somewhere interesting to show off about at a dinner party. There was the ever-increasing quest by the producers of said programmes to find more and more extravagant holidays or far-flung destinations. If you hadn’t yak herded in Mongolia or eaten mongoose with some impossibly remote tribe with an unpronounceable name then you hadn’t lived. Maybe these programmes had run their course or perhaps it was increasingly hard to justify holidays which cost more than a new car once recession had started to bite.

Then that dreadful word ‘staycation’ appeared everywhere, but I can forgive all those who used it, if it made people look at what was on their own doorstep in a different way. I have a friend who has been to every continent including Antarctica but has never visited Cornwall. *incredulous look at computer screen* I must admit to being rather jealous of her seeing penguins in their true habitat and not just in a rather dubious looking pool construction at a zoo but you don’t have to spend lots of money or travel long distances to come across the new and interesting.

This weekend we walked a stretch of Offa’s Dyke that we know well. One of our favourite places, the paths take us through ancient woodland clinging to the side of the Wye Valley. On one hand there is a comfortable feeling of familiarity, knowing the terrain, the sections that will be muddy because of the underground spring or the steep part that we need to descend to return to the car. On the other is the feeling of discovery whenever we visit. It might well be the same walk, through the same trees but it’s always different.

Seeing how the seasons and the weather affect the woods is the most noticeable difference. Last year we visited in mid- March,and in the warmth of the early spring bluebells had created a spectacular show and were joined by wild garlic and wood anemones. These bluebells were out about a month earlier than the previous year but this time around, unsurprisingly, there were none to be seen. The foliage was there but the first flowers may well not appear until May. The buds of the first wood anemones had appeared but only a few had opened; they, like us craving some sunshine. A carpet of wild garlic had formed though and we picked a few leaves to take home to make a pesto.

The winter storms had taken their toll. A huge tree had split with two sections now lying at right angles to the trunk. As these had fallen they had taken out other trees in their path. It looked like a scene of destruction but as the wood starts to rot it will become the perfect home to so many creatures.

King Alfred’s Cake Fungus

Wellyman spotted these fascinating fungi which we’d never seen before. Whilst I was waffling on about them looking like those men, often with no teeth, who take part in the gurning competition in Cumbria he was off looking for a stick to poke one that had fallen on to the ground. Apparently he was looking to see if the inside was full of rings rather like the trunk of a tree and thought they were called King Alfred’s cakes. The fungus did have the said rings running through its inside and checking when we got home it turns out Wellyman’s fungi identification skills, on this occasion, were correct. Their name derives from the fact that the black varieties look burnt just like the cakes King Alfred is said to have overcooked. Apparently they can be used as kindling for those who like the idea of bushcraft.

The inner rings of a King Alfred’s Cake Fungus

Of course, even in such a beautiful spot as this there are always some who just don’t seem to appreciate what’s there. I really dislike seeing trees that have been vandalised. On this occasion it was initials and dates carved into the trunk of a tree. Some were obviously more recent than others as the bark hadn’t had a chance to fully heal. Banging nails into a tree in order to hang up a poster annoys me too. I know the tree doesn’t feel pain but it’s the lack of respect that frustrates me. Trees really are incredible and deserve more than being treated as a convenient spot to advertise some nightclub, a missing pet or as a place for RR to declare their ‘love’ for LT.

Then David became very sick and he discovered he was terminally ill. Devastating news for the family was compounded by the need to move from the home and garden they loved. But if all that wasn’t enough the land agents who own the property said the garden would have to be dismantled and returned to pasture as it would be off-putting to new tenants faced with maintaining it. If this didn’t happen then the private Llanover Estate initially said they would charge (although this is no longer the case) the Rolfes for the cost of making it more tenant friendly.

My raised beds which will no doubt be replaced with grass when we sell.

I wasn’t the only person the day the news broke to be incensed by the story. The gross insensitivity on the part of the landowners seemed quite incredible and how heartbreaking to have to take apart something you have so lovingly put together when you are going through such a dreadful time anyway. The story does also show the two sides of a supposed nation of gardeners. On the one hand you have a couple with more than just green fingers whose love for plants is obviously huge. Then you have those who see gardens as hard work, a hindrance and a chore.

I’ve lived in my fair share of rented places and if people are passing through it does make sense as a landlord to have gardens that don’t require a lot of maintenance. Our first home together was on an army base, the garden came with a scruffy, moss-ridden lawn and four of the scrawniest looking roses you’ll ever come across and that was it. Outdoor spaces were maintained under the threat of penalties when you ‘marched out’. That really was the term they gave to moving house (they didn’t make you literally march out the house though, fortunately). Accommodation on private estates in rural areas tend to be mid to long-term lets though. These aren’t commuter areas or military bases with people moving on after six months, it isn’t unusual for tenants to stay in estate properties for ten, fifteen or more years.

In 2010 the UK garden retail market was worth £4.6 billion and we think of ourselves as a nation of gardeners but what criteria make you a gardener? Does buying a ready-made hanging basket and watering it occasionally throughout the summer make you a gardener? If your garden only consists of lawn, does mowing it every week constitute gardening? What about filling your borders with bedding plants that you buy? You might plant them but they may need no more attention once in the ground, does that make you a gardener?

The idea that a beautiful garden is an encumbrance rather than an asset perhaps says more about the general attitude to gardening than statistics of how much is spent on gardening products. My own garden is smaller than the average, with no lawn because I wanted it to be full of plants. It isn’t high maintenance. In fact, without a lawn it’s actually pretty undemanding but I know when we come to sell that’s not what potential buyers will think. I’m already prepared for the conversation where I explain how easy it will be to take out the raised beds and lay some turf, just so they can replace low maintenance plants with a high maintenance lawn.

My front garden, once just scruffy grass.

Walk around most garden centres and it’s easy to see where the £4.6 billion is spent and a lot of it doesn’t seem to be on items with any real relevance to gardening. Outdoor living is the new gardening whether it’s admiring your meerkats or the bejewelled, oversized butterflies on stems plonked around the garden. A few plants that might attract some actual butterflies might be a better choice. I think, rather like my recent post on whether the grow your own revolution had died, there is a hard-core group of dedicated gardeners, people with a real passion for plants and wildlife and then there is a much more significant group on the peripheries. The success of the Alan Titchmarsh Love Your Garden programme on ITV has seemed to prove this point. Much more about make-overs than gardening, the instant effect seems to win out when faced with the actual growing of plants shown on Gardener’s World.

Maybe it shouldn’t surprise me then that the garden at Ochran Mill is to be uprooted. Many of the plants are going to good homes and Bristol Zoo is taking some of the more exotic and rare specimens but it’s sad that the beauty of the gardens and the hard work that went into them wasn’t appreciated.

I’d love to hear what you think defines a gardener.