Food glorious food

The after work gardener, Tuesday 5 July

It dawned on me yesterday, as I happily picked, washed and cooked my dinner, that I haven't had to buy any fresh green veg or salad from the shops for almost a week now.

Last night it was a stir-fry medley of French beans - pictured languishing left, mange tout, spinach, and my first few carrots (compared to last year's non-starting carrots, this year's harvest is proving positively gigantic - well thicker and longer than my index finger which is a startling success in my book).

It's a shame to add any spices to cooking at the moment, as I'm keen to taste the individual flavours of each item I've grown.  I've now a real comprehension of each vegetable's flavour, which I've discovered with home grown food is very tasty: French beans are peppery; mange tout is slightly sweet; and carrots have an almost coriander type tang that is delicious.  Crisp and crunchy green side salads with lettuce, spinach, parsley and radishes have become somewhat of a norm, and yet not a discarded pre-packed plastic salad bag in site - I love it, and feel so very smug.

In fact, I was so dizzy with the excitement of all my harvesting that I nearly put pay to both myself and my forest of tiny tomato plants.  My cunning cobbled brick 10 inch walk-way along my plot, dividing the beans against the fence and the rest of the patch, proved somewhat unstable and precarious when I swivelled around to pick yet more and more French Beans yesterday.  

I was so focused on picking the beans that were touching the soil - and right in the path of the clearly famished snails - that I lost balance and started falling towards my patch of courgettes, pumpkins, aubergines and tomatoes.  This part of the plot is like a bed of twiggy nails with 2ft high spiky sticks filling the patch to prevent next door's cat scratching them to kingdom come. As I fell, the short lives of my plants flashed before my eyes and I weighed-up saving them or impaling myself on spiky sticks.  

I've no idea how, but I managed to fling one arm onto the patio to break my fall, and halted only millimetres above my nervous looking tomato plants, accompanied by only the slight crunch of twigs against my chest - all the while next door's cat sniggering from its warm vantage point on the roof of next door's shed.  Until now, I hadn't known the true precariousness of harvesting.  So, nothing damaged or broken - apart from my pride, and no plants ruined, I promptly did exactly the same seconds later.

My good fortune at actually having produced some part of my meals for the past week has clearly left me slightly unbalanced, so who knows how I will react if the pumpkin plant - which is currently threatening to take over the runner beans - becomes pumpkin soup and a haunting Halloween lantern, or if the cucumbers - which despite the packet saying grow in a greenhouse - survive against the sunny, sheltered, south facing fence where I've positioned them, and produce an accompaniment to a cream cheese sandwich?  

If all this comes to fruition I may need more that a home-grown mint tea to calm my dizzy excitement.

And then there was rain

The after work gardener, Tuesday 21 June

Following stinky Wednesday, I've been steering clear of the cesspit smell of my garden for a few days, but am pleased to report, that following a period of torrential rain, the putrid pong has finally subsided.

I think the home made nettle nitrogen feed - smell withstanding - was a success (not that I am sure I can ever repeat the experience).  The sweetcorn and tomato plants have visibly perked up, the beans are looking better than ever, one of my aubergine plants finally looks like it's undergoing a much needed growth spurt, and the solitary courgette has started producing flowers. Needless to say, as warned, some of the smaller plants didn't quite survive, with the brew proving too strong for their fledgling roots.  I've lost one tiny tomato plant and the pepper is looking a bit unsure.  However, ever the gardening optimist, I've now utilised this little bit of dead space with a further couple of short rows of carrots and radishes.  Having now learnt to thoroughly dig, weed, de-stone and water the radish patch - I am now producing a perfectly purple crunchy crop.

With all the rain we've been having it's been quite hard to get out into the garden - who would believe that this overcast day is in fact summer solstice? Anyway, on Sunday I managed the mundane task of mowing the lawn.  The nitrogen feed seems to have given the grass a much needed lease of life, and it was like wading through a meadow.  The grass was so high that I had to perform a surreptitious pre-mow shearing job, creating my own mini bale of hay, reminding me of wishing for a horse as child, and promising my unconvinced parents that I would be able to feed it from lawn grown hay bales alone - unfortunately no horse, so onto the compost it goes. 

Whilst moving the lawn, I also discovered that the clover I had dug up from my parent's garden to fill balding patches has really started to take off.  I'm hoping this will continue to add some much needed nitrogen to the soil, as the lawn's just not cricket at the moment. 

Golden Bamboo

The other grass related thing to have shot up is my  bamboo.  When I first established this in the garden - in an attempt to save money (bamboo's really quite expensive) I bought only one plant and sliced-up the root clump into individual bamboo stalks to plant along one side of a patio.  It was touch-and-go for a few months if I'd killed it, but now, a year later it's really clumped up, and with the recent nettle feed has been firing out more and more shoots.

The other task this weekend, following the various growth spurts, was tying plants to sticks to prevent any more wind disasters - I feel a bit bad binding them to stakes, but assured them that it's for their own good. The sunflowers have reached a meter, and the lupins have finally come into flower - it's all looking ever so cottagey next to my gravel path. Although it dawned on me this morning, as I was walking through Russell Square in London, that I'm either heavily influenced by the planting in London's parks, or all my plants are extremely common - the mixture of lavender, Salvia, Holly hocks, Delphiniums and Lupins seems to be a classic Camden Council mix , however, I guess even councils have to make the most of 2-4-1 offers in B&Q.

Serene Salvia

Luscious Lupins

Languid Lavender