galadhir: a blue octopus sits in a golden armchair reading a black backed novel (Oh no!)
I was absolutely determined to get a cherry from the cherry tree this year. It produced loads of little green cherries, and I swathed it in bird netting as soon as they began to change colour. But then...

During the summer I had made friends with a blackbird in the garden who had a ring of white spots where the jaw would be on a person. I called him Spot, and he would swoop down from wherever he was perching as soon as I went into the garden, and hop about my feet, while I talked to him.

Spot had a nest in the wisteria, where he raised a brood of little cheeping baby blackbirds along with Mrs Spot. And soon the baby blackbirds were scruffy looking juveniles scurrying about the garden with even less fear of me than Spot had.

The babies would come close enough to me to touch, while Spot sat on the fence nearby and watched, and I was delighted and honoured to be treated as trustworthy.

But then the babies started to get into the bunched up netting at the base of the cherry tree. I had to go out and scare one off before it got its foot caught. That was the point I started thinking 'maybe I should take the net off. I don't need the cherries. I can't get Spot's babies killed.'

But I didn't do anything, because that one cherry had begun to go pink, and I'd had zero cherries last year from this tree I had planted because cherries are my favourite fruit - the birds had had them all.

Two weeks later, the cherry was almost ripe, and one of the babies had got themselves properly tangled. I went out and - while Spot and the baby both screamed at me - I untangled it and it scrambled off, cursing. And that was the end. I ate that one cherry while it was still not-quite-ripe and then took down the netting from the cherry tree, so the birds would be able to eat all the others without risking their lives.

At that point, I still had netting on the raised bed where the blueberries were ripening. But as soon as Mrs. Spot got off her eggs, she started making her way under the netting, eating the blueberries and then panicking because she couldn't find her way out. That was when I christened her Berrythief.

I couldn't have Berrythief getting tangled in netting either, so I took that down too. So that was the end of my blueberry harvest.

Not very encouraging results from my plans to feed myself from the garden!

OTOH, Spot has recently started coming down to walk with me again - so I feel forgiven for giving the baby such a fright. And Berrythief has decided the raised bed is the best place to go hunting, and has earned the name Berrythief Slugsbane for her ruthless consumption of the damned gastropods that keep eating every leafy vegetable that I plant in there.

Birds 2: Fruit 0

Otoh, I do have a shop nearby where I can get frozen blueberries and cherries, and money can't buy the friendship of a family of blackbirds. I think I'm ahead on the deal.
galadhir: a blue octopus sits in a golden armchair reading a black backed novel (Default)
Today I feel as though I’m making some sort of progress on the ‘novice gardener attempts to plant food forest’ front.

This morning I went out and picked myself a pot of tea. I took a few flowering heads of lavender, two peppermint leaves and two lemon-balm leaves, put them in one of those individual tea-pots that comes with a cup and had three cups of tea out of it. Very fragrant and lovely it was too!


It hadn’t occurred to me that I could grow my own tea before reading Martin Crawford’s Creating a Forest Garden about a month ago. But I had space for more plants, so as soon as I did, I ordered a chocolate mint and an anise hyssop plant. And on Monday I was in town at the bulk buy shop and discovered a very bedraggled, unhappy lemon balm plant in their ‘please take these away because they’re dying’ bin, so I brought that home in my bike pannier too.

The lavender and the peppermint were already in place.

Having tried for a couple of days now, I discover that there is something very special about being able to start the day by picking your own tea blend from the garden. It’s a revelation almost on a par with how much difference fresh herbs make to the taste of your cooking. They give much more satisfaction and pleasure than it seems like they ought to.

Other successes–there are slugs in the slug trap. The little bastards have been chomping their way through three quarters of the tender baby plants I put in. I fully intend to let thrushes and toads deal with them later on when things are established, but for now I have neither of those things, so drowning in beer it is.

I had a bit of a paradigm shifting moment as regards the lawn this time last month. I had very much been of the 'lawns are a waste of space’ persuasion previously. But we have one. We may not always have one, but while we have one, it finally occurred to me to treat it as an area of soil covered with a ground covering plant.

Namely–not as a waste of space, but as an area of soil that also needed its soil carbon levels building up via nurturing and encouraging the soil lifeforms.

So, two weeks ago, I raised the cutting height on the lawnmower to 6.5 cm and put on it one of those plug in things that cuts up the grass cuttings and scatters them on the lawn behind you. I’m no longer removing the nutrients from the soil by taking the cuttings away to go in the compost bin–I’m letting them accumulate and feed the soil.

I also scattered some chicken manure over the whole garden, and watered it in with some powdered mycorrhizal fungi in solution. If I’m improving the soil, it doesn’t really matter so much what’s growing on top of it, right? It’s still drawing down carbon dioxide and breathing out oxygen like a tree.

And I’ve got to say, two weeks and two cuts later it’s noticeably thicker and lusher. It’s still full of wild flowers and weeds, of course, but that’s a bonus imo–I have a prairie.

I also have clouds, absolute effing hoards of hoverflies, bumblebees and ladybirds. I like to think it’s a sign that the biodiversity is improving. As is the fact that there’s a frog in the pond, and that five of the golden-rod sticks, two of the skirret sticks, and one of the perennial kale sticks seem to have taken and sprouted.
galadhir: a blue octopus sits in a golden armchair reading a black backed novel (Default)
If you have houseplants, it’s galling to discover that one of the things they breed is small flies. Tiny flies breed in the soil and soon you have swarms of them.

Also, in the summer (in the UK) you have your windows open and flies come in. That’s when you could resort to fly-killer sprays (bad, toxic) or you could put up fly-paper (medium, not very recyclable.) Alternatively you could make house-room for old Barley here:

a butterwort plant in a spotty pot

aka the common Butterbur.

It hasn’t got soil on it, it’s not dirty - that’s flies that it’s captured with the sticky surface of its leaves, and which it is slowly digesting. That big splotch where you can still see a wing is a mosquito.

Never did I think I would love a plant designed to live in a rancid bog which digests flesh for nutrients, but I do. It had a beautiful, delicate purple, violet-like flower in early May and now it’s chomping down on my unwanted flies.

I don’t know what to think about the fact that Tolkien named his friendly innkeeper after a plant that lures creatures in with its lush green leaves and then eats them, but as living fly-paper goes, I couldn’t be more thrilled with it.

…[edit]

Ugh. That’ll teach me to rely on common names and then misremember them.

I went off to google my butterbur last night and discovered that it isn’t a butterbur at all. It’s a butterwort! It is in fact Pinguicula Grandiflora, the Irish butterwort.

Butterbur (Petasites hybridus) otoh looks like this



its big leaves were apparently originally used to wrap pats of butter before they were put in the storehouse, and it’s also the name of a kind of felt hat. So that makes a lot more sense from the perspective of a Tolkien innkeeper.

My Barleyman Butterwort is keeping its name though. It’s fond of it now.

Weeds

May. 12th, 2021 10:20 am
galadhir: a blue octopus sits in a golden armchair reading a black backed novel (Default)
Ugh, I'm going to stop weeding the garden. Or at least, I'm going to make sure what the weeds are before I pull them up.

I pulled a plant out from underneath the comfrey this morning, thinking "Well, you are definitely not something I planted!" And then I thought, "let's check to see what it is." So I turned my plant identifying app on it. Lo and behold, it was Wood Avens, aka Herb Bennet, which I have been trying to grow from seed for two years without success.

Wood Avens, aka Herb Bennet, aka Cloveroot has edible leaves and a root that smells like cloves, which can be dried and used to keep the moths off your clothes - while also giving them a spicy scent. And we have such a problem with moths!

I fished it out of the compost bin and replanted it asap.

I'm really beginning to think that there is no such thing as a useless plant. And if it has uses, why would I not want it in the garden?

Admittedly, this is from the perspective of someone whose garden has a lot of bare soil that I need covering asap. I may feel different when the Wood Avens is fighting with the strawberries for dominance. At that point it may need to watch itself. But rn I'm definitely going to check everything before I run rampant with the hoe.
galadhir: a blue octopus sits in a golden armchair reading a black backed novel (violet)
This is year #2 of my garden - the second year since I tore up all the ivy and weed suppressant membrane and scraped up the weedy shingle to start putting plants in the soil.

Last year - year #1 of the garden with the new plants - I had such a slug problem. OMG, the damn things were everywhere. I couldn't grow anything except naturally slug-resistant plants like onions and garlic. If salad plants went in the soil they were devoured whole overnight.

I had heard that this is how it normally goes - the pests arrive first, and for a period you have unrestrained pest problems until eventually the huge amounts of pests start to attract the creatures who feed on the pests. At which point the system starts balancing itself out.

I didn't really believe this would happen (any more than I really believe that my weight will eventually stabilize if I let it do it's own thing,) but this year, year #2, it does in fact seem to be the case that my salad plants are thriving, and even the lupins, which are notoriously vulnerable to slugs, are surviving.

So it seems to be true. If you let the system look after itself, it will eventually balance into something sustainable. Good news!

I still think I'm losing my wasabi, though that's mainly because I planted it down slug corridor - the part of the garden closest to where they breed in the compost bin. I thought they might not like wasabi, on the grounds that they don't like garlic, but no, it seems they enjoy a bit of spice.

Speaking of spice, one of the hostas the slugs ravaged last year has come back, right in the middle of a sprawl of mint. It's the only hosta that has. I wonder if the mint is protecting it. I might try planting some mint around the wasabi and see if that keeps them off.
galadhir: a blue octopus sits in a golden armchair reading a black backed novel (violet)


I've had the first salad of the year out of the garden 😀 The tomatoes aren't ours yet, but all the green stuff is. These are all from perennial plants, so I didn't have to plant anything new this year, but I did have to wait until the plants were growing again--the sweet cicely and wild garlic only recently re-emerged from underground, and everything else was focussed on just hanging on through the winter until it began to leaf out again this month.

In this bowl, wild garlic, perennial onion leaves, wasabi leaves, sweet cicely, perennial kale, wild rocket, sorrel, fennel, salad burnet, chard, mint and marjoram.

No more plastic wrapped salads that go off before you're half way through them!

Last year we stopped harvesting salad stuff at the end of November, but I only have one of each type of plant at present, so I bet I can close that gap a bit as I add this year's crop of seedlings.
galadhir: a blue octopus sits in a golden armchair reading a black backed novel (morning hux)
Having thoughts about how restoring ground is all about encouraging it to do the things it was going to do naturally if it had only been left alone. About how the earth's ecosystems are complex interconnected systems that exist in a beneficial equilibrium and can self-correct in order to stay healthy... IF they are not pushed too far out of kilter by unwise forceful intervention.

Then thinking about how the same is probably true of the human body. Also a self-correcting ecosystem of many interconnected systems.

Maybe the human body evolved to keep itself at a weight that was healthy for it. Maybe it's the human intervention of unwise forceful starving to try to bend it into a form that we like, for arbitrary reasons, that throws the whole system out of kilter.

Maybe if we just trusted the hugely complex system that we are to know what to do, things would be better with us?

Idk, but the parallels feel relevant to me as I'm currently trying to learn to eat intuitively after a lifetime of dieting. I've tried to control my body so long I have no idea what it would be like if it was allowed to do its own thing. But maybe... maybe it would pleasantly surprise me? I hope so. Watch this space.
galadhir: a blue octopus sits in a golden armchair reading a black backed novel (Default)
One thing I love about gardening is getting new plants, putting them in the garden and going out the next day to find that they have breathed a sigh of relief. They're looking healthier and glossier, more spread out and/or more upright. Most of the time, you didn't realize that they were in distress in their pot, but it's a delight to look at them in the ground and think oh, little buddy, you're so much happier here.

On Monday I was in town, doing my usual grocery shop, and the place where I get my refills had a shelf of plants you could buy. I have a garden where at least half of it is in full shade (it gets about an hour of sunlight a day tops,) and I want to get the soil covered by plants asap. Ideally, I want that ground cover to also be edible, or useful for medicine/scent/pollinator food etc. This is a difficult ask.

So when I saw they had an English violet (edible in salads and sweets, makes a healthy sweet tea, full of vitamin C, grows in full shade, vigorous spreader,) I thought that's the plant for me! But oh, the poor little thing was on its last legs, absolutely flat in its pot and turning yellow.

I took it to the counter and said "Could you please give it a dribble of water, just so it survives until I get it home?" So the guy held it under the tap for a moment and sold it to me for £1. (Which was a bargain because not only did I get the plant but also the nice terracotta pot it was in.)

It had already started to recover by the time I got it home, so this was not at its worst:



but after rehydrating it properly overnight, and planting it out yesterday, this is what it looks like today:



It is genuinely a joy to see a suffering creature suffering slightly less.
galadhir: a blue octopus sits in a golden armchair reading a black backed novel (cranes)
I have a friend who drinks meadowsweet tea for her headaches, and I was telling her that I had a patch of meadowsweet in the corner of my garden. She wanted to know what it looked like when it wasn't in a tea-bag, so I googled for a picture--

And I discovered that whatever that thing I had was, it was not meadowsweet.

I knew I'd been getting it confused with the sweet-cicely I have in a different spot. The sweet-cicely is a really nice edible perennial that tastes of aniseed and goes wonderfully in a summer salad, and I knew one was edible and the other wasn't.

After some head-scratching, I realized that the patch of spiky ground-cover with tiny white flowers and glossy radiate leaves was in fact sweet woodruff, which is fragrant and traditionally used to scent linen cupboards. Probably just as well that I had not tried to make medicinal tea from that one last year while it established.

I have some actual meadowsweet seedlings germinating on the window-ledge, and it's going to be way too confusing to have three 'sweet' plants. So in future, I'm going to call the sweet woodruff by one of its other names - lady's bedstraw. (It used to be used for stuffing the best mattresses because it smelled so beautiful.) My brain is not equipped to deal with all these sweets.
galadhir: a blue octopus sits in a golden armchair reading a black backed novel (salad)
I don't think I'd make a good potion maker. I've only just realized that it makes a big difference which ingredient you add to which in what order.

To give context, I was making some kitchen-cleaning liquid. In the process of trying to use (and then throw away) less plastic, I stopped buying those neon-coloured spray bottles of kitchen cleaner and started making my own, which I put into a glass spray bottle which I then re-use continually.

This cleaning liquid is genuinely WAY better than the stuff I used to buy, and smells nicer. This is the recipe:

100mls castille liquid soap
2 tbsp bicarbonate of soda
400mls boiled water
Essential oils of choice (I use 3 drops each of lavender, tea-tree, citronella and peppermint, because they're supposed to have disinfectant qualities, and also they smell nice together.)

Previously I'd been adding the ingredients in the order given here, and I'd had a problem with undissolved bicarb clogging up the spray nozzle. This time I dissolved the bicarb in the hot water first, and only then added the soap and oils. Much better! It's amazing watching the misty clear of the dissolved bicarb water and the clear yellow of the soap turn solid white like milk when combined.

Anyway, I can't speak highly enough of this cleaning solution. It lifts dirt like the best 'activated oxygen' spray you can get from the supermarket, without smelling all throat-chokingly chemical. It does leave a white residue if you don't wipe it off thoroughly enough - but that helps you make sure you have wiped it off. And it means I don't buy plastic bottles any more.

(I did buy a 5L jug of liquid castille soap, but (a) it's lasted me a year and a half so far, and there's about 2L still to go, and (b) when it's finished it will be turned into a place to put a plant on my vertical wall in the garden.)

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