Lady Muck entertains

As the evenings draw in and a chill fills the air, we are gathering around the fire with two jumpers on (as recommended by gas company after they hiked their prices). It is a time for reading and my favourite at the moment is Common-Sense Compost Making, by Maye E Bruce.

This little book was first published in 1946 by Faber & Faber. My copy came to me via a car boot sale and is the 1967 revised edition by Lady Eve Balfour. The author spent a lifetime trying to perfect the art of compost making and this is her account of the quick return method which she devised after much experimentation.

Ooh, and she weren't half posh! Look at this for a sample:

Before the war I had a staff of three men: a chauffeur-handyman, who also mowed
the lawns, and two men in the garden...the whole place is 150 acres...in 1940
the whole staff joined up and in their place I had one very old
man.

I'm thinking of getting Susan and daughter Dorothy to do all the stirring when I finally get my compost bin.

Oo, I am awful!

Today I have mostly been pricking out. What state is my brain in that all the time it's trying to think of a good bit of innuendo to go with this? Where is Kenneth Williams when you need him?

With initial guidance from Susan, I transplanted herbs from the seed trays into pots. It's a pleasant and relaxing activity, as is all this vegetable and herb lark. The only anxiety is when you're waiting for the buggers to pop their heads above the soil.

Still, the herbs seem to have come on nicely so far. Except, and there's always an except, for the cress and mint. The cress doesn't seem to have taken at all and neither does the mint, which was in a slightly smaller container. No idea why, but they don't get a second chance. Everything has now either been potted up or ditched on to the garden outside. 

Suppose I'll have to think about taking up cooking now. 

Doing the Monster Mash (not)

When I had my first trip around the garden centre, I saw they had seeds for monster vegetables. There's been an interesting review in the Independent of The Biggest Beetroot in the World, a book by Michael Leapman. He follows five growers of big vegetables through a year of expensive upkeep and brutally competitive judging shows. There's no money in any of it and the veg is inedible, apparently.
 
There's a mention in the book of the annual Dewsbury Onion Fair, not far down the road from me and which I notice is being held this year on October 4. Classes include single largest onion, three heaviest and best dressed. Think I will go along and have a look, but I'm not tempted in the slightest. What's the point of veg you can't eat?

Thoughts of nudism

I'm reading an interesting book by Lucas Bridges called Uttermost Part of the Earth, published in 1948 and the story of his life in the late 19th century and early 20th century on the island of Tierra del Fuego, on the tip of South America. He tells a story about visiting an elderly Indian native on her death-bed in the 1880s. She had been brought to London in the 1830s and presented to King William IV. Fascinating that in one bound I'm taken from someone who lived in my lifetime to the years before Queen Victoria's reign.

Any road, the point is that Tierra del Fuego is one of the most inhospitable places on earth. Think the wild seas of Cape Horn and very few days without rain, slush, hail or snow. Bridges relates in his book how there were gardens on these islands and relates that one couple managed to serve up strawberries and cream to visitors.

So why the hell haven't I been able to get veg to grow in my patch? Apparently, the nomadic people of Tierra del Fuego dressed sparingly, a remarkable feat given the cold climate. Should I give it a go?

A good wheeze

I'm slightly off track with this posting, but we visited Bodnant Garden in north Wales this morning. Not a single vegetable in sight as far as I could see, apart from seed packets in the shop, but it's such a beautiful and relaxing place. Mind you, they've got 14 full-time gardeners plus volunteers. I'm thinking of bequeathing my property to the National Trust so they can maintain it for me.

Now that's what I like - it's cheap

My friend Steve has been in contact today and has sent me an article from the Guardian about gardening on the cheap. It's fascinating reading and gives some useful and practical tips. Well done to writer Alys Fowler for inspiring me.

Obviously, no sign of the Phacelia tanacetifolia coming through yet. Steve says they're tough buggers and will probably see out any frost. 

Herbs are coming on nicely, though, and it seems highly likely to me that I will have to do something about them soon. Apparently, it's a process called pricking out. No comment.

Hunger stalks the land

The harvest has officially failed.

After taking advice from Susan, I have reached the view that the crops will not come through now after all the rain we have had. As I have said before, it was always going to be risky starting the plot when I did. The gamble has failed to come off.

This morning I gave the unused part of the plot a good turning over. Ditto with the other part, where I had been trying to grow lettuce, spinach and rocket. It all got dug over.

I then scattered the Phacelia tanacetifolia which my pals Steve and Marianne recommended as green manure. Or, as it said on the packet, 'broadcast' the seeds. What a delightful word! Roll on early next year when I'll start again.

With no food growing, I now face a trip to Tesco to top up supplies. Or Lidl as we now call it in these hard times that we are experiencing as the economy plunges downwards. (Hey! It's not my fault, says Mr Brown. Funny that,  I seem to remember he was taking the praise when it was going relatively well).

Or, I could book passage to America and start a new life. Except that I don't fancy dancing a jig in the hold all the way across the Atlantic.

 

The potato planter turns out to be...a potato planter

In a previous posting, I speculated on whether the potato planter tool had another name or not. I did a quick search on Google and failed to find an alternative.

My mate Steve, who sent me his photograph of one, says he's never heard it called anything other than a potato planter. I think he should know as he is an expert in his field (not to mention his allotment).

Yet my wife Susan still insists there is another name. She used to work in the Museum of Lincolnshire Life, where they had thousands of agricultural implements in stock, and believes she came across it there. Perhaps the name they used was peculiar to Lincolnshire. 

Eh! It's getting a bit like the hunt for the yeti or bigfoot. The truth is out there somewhere...

In the meantime, I have discovered the herb cutter, a handy device for the kitchen. I tried one in my friend Jan's kitchen the other day to chop her herbs as she was preparing a meal and it was brilliant. My problem as a left-hander is that I find a lot of implements and such like, including scissors, are set up for right-handed people and I can't handle them properly. (That's my excuse anyway, and I'm sticking to it). The herb cutter wasn't like that - even I got it to work.

Susan says I have had a very sheltered life never to have heard of a herb cutter.

Universally challenged

Marooned in the house because of the incessant rain, it's still constant thinking instead of action on the vegetable patch.

My mate Steve has sent me a message about potatoes and how he looks forward to the planning and the planting. He sent with it a photograph of his wife Marianne with their 'spud planter'. My wife Susan thought the tool had a proper name, but couldn't for the life think of it. Neither could I.

The gaps in our knowledge are remarkable at times - or is it a sign of memory fading?

There's a photograph of it shown above. I haven't edited Marianne out of it through aesthetic reasons, but rather because some people don't like their image put all over the internet. Ony right to respect privacy.

Planning ahead

Just spent an enjoyable 30 minutes or so looking through my vegetable planting book and planning ahead. Mapped out rough timetable for early next year to include planting of broad beans, peas, French beans, potatoes and lettuce. Might not be enough room for anything else, but we'll see.

It's amazing how engrossed you can get in the literature - and that's all I can do at the moment with the perpetual rain there's been. Had a brief look at the plot tonight and could have sworn I saw something coming through. I did, I did. Could I be wrong with my fears that everything has been washed out?

Watch this space, as the cliche goes.