I am born again

My Lady Balfour potatoes have been delivered from Thompson & Morgan and I have put them in an egg box to start the process of chitting. Experts may say I've started late in the day, but they do say everything has been put back at least four weeks because of the poor weather we have had.

Mentioning to friends about the potatoes, I realised no labelling had come with them (other than general instructions for growing potatoes) and that I could not remember whether they were maincrop or what. Turns out they are early maincrop, named after the Soil Association founder. They are claimed to have impressive blight resistance and to give huge yields, even in poorer soils.

Doing a couple of hours of overdue digging this morning, I was reminded of how poor the soil is in my garden and how very many stones there are. Hardly surprising really as our neighbourhood was once noted for its quarries and stone mines. I was surprised today to find three or four pieces of broken glass turning up as I dug the earth over. Where did they come from?

I was pleased that the Lady Balfour spuds are produced in Perth, not far from where my mother came from. Let's hope they live up to expectations.

The answer lies in the soil

I wandered - lonely as a cloud* - through the composts and manures at Kershaws Garden Centre and came away none the wiser. What do I need to revive the soil in my ailing vegetable patches? There's so much stuff out there that I couldn't decide. Ah, the modern matra of choice, choice and choice. It isn't very helpful to someone who doesn't know what they're doing. But decide I will have to do before winter sets in properly. And get Susan to come with me in the car to shift these huge bags.

* apologies to William Wordsworth

On the road again

Such a beautiful spring day today, so I was up early to test my hand/arm with a spot of gentle digging. Not too bad.

I'm digging out a new patch and resumed where I left off by giving the ground a good turning over and then dug out a bit more of the lawn towards the point where I am aiming. Very enjoyable.

Feel as if I'm getting somewhere now. Must remember not to get obsessed with ailment.

Any excuse

My mate Steve has sent me a message entitled Trenchant Thoughts, ie bloody get digging. He doesn't actually say that, but that's the gist of his explanation about the science of soil preparation.

Sound advice, which I followed immediately by getting out in the garden with spade and shovel. Ignoring a slight problem with my left hand, I got stuck in with my version of gusto - until a bit of a hiccup followed. Striking down hard with the shovel against an awkward root, a severe jolt went up my hand and arm. The pain!

Four days later and I am still not right despite extensive easing up on using that hand (the left one, not exactly convenient for a left-hander). Yesterday and today I have had to resort to Ibuprofen.

Who remembers now the great Robertson Hare? He would have a phrase for it - Oh calamity.

Much ado about nothing

I'm reaching the stage (and may even be past it) of needing to dig and prepare the ground for potatoes. Apparently the traditional day for planting spuds is April 10, which is looming fast. But a walk in the woods just now with the dog has revealed to me just how slippery and muddy it is underfoot after the past few days of snow and rain.

I'm reading a terrific book called Close to the Veg, by Michael Rand, sent to me by my mate Steve, which has turned out quite unexpectedly to be good stuff. The author, who knew nothing about such things before taking on his London allotment, is full of good advice and one of his tips is that it is fruitless to dig a soaking-wet clay soil as you won't do the ground any good by squelching all over it. I've no idea if my soil is clay or not (how are you supposed to tell?) but it seems to me to be sensible to respect his wisdom and lay off until the patch dries off a bit.

This is rapidly turning into a journal in which nothing much happens.

Just a bit baffled

As I have said before, my opportunities for tending to the vegetable patch are a bit limited these days. It's dark when I get home and fairly soon it will be dark when I get up.

Today being Saturday I had the chance for a look. There's nothing happening much there at the moment, just a some chives and a bit of garlic planted and waiting.

What puzzled me, though, was the green manure - the phacelia tanacetifolia. Now the patch is divided into two distinct halves with a bit of paving down the middle for met to stand on. The phacelia is growing fine on one half, but not on the other. The bit where it is not taking is also the part where I had the lettuce and spinach which didn't take.

Is there something wrong with the soil? And why? It's virtually the same patch, after all. I'm mystified.

A tiring day out in the lower field

Dig...dig...dig...dig...dig...dig...dig...dig...It's a hard job, but I've broken the back of the initial digging now.

Some people may think I'm making too much of it, but it's a big step for me. Bereft of exercise for years, overweight and out of condition, this really is a major challenge for me. It's dead tiring, but I'm happy that I've got as far as I have.

I've cleared all the ground today of weeds and, I suppose, plants, and given it a perfunctory turning over. Tomorrow I'll give the soil a really good going over, removing all the stones and roots I can see. Then I'll sling in some fertiliser laden with chemicals and stick in some of those genetically-modified tomatoes (only kidding).

I shed about a gallon of perspiration today with this unaccustomed work, so I'm off now to have a well-deserved bath.