Horticultural

Shed chic

     As may have become clear from my last shed post, I don't want a shed that's purely functional - it's got to be picturesque, not least because although in a corner it's not exactly tucked away in my garden, but also because I am planning to spend as much time as possible in and around it.

Given that I can't do anything much about the colour of the exterior right now, I am thinking about how to make the interior work from a practical point of view, in terms of storage and easy access to tools etc, but also capture that "shed chic" vibe that Deb of the blog Carrots and Kids detected in the greenhouses on display at Chelsea. So far there's not much to show for my efforts: a couple of jumbo gravel trays from Garland filled with, er, gravel are keeping water off the wooden floor, and an old Ikea Billy bookcase exiled from the office to store pots and the like. An old galvanised watering can I have got around to de-gunking is going to store bamboo canes and brooms in the corner, and I may even get around to painting the interior a soothing shade at some point too.

But in the current hot weather there are more pressing issues. Given the shed is south-facing and meant for duel use as a greenhouse/shed, I really need to think about shading. My sister suggested net curtains, possibly ironically, in the comments on my last post, but maybe this isn't such a bad idea - they offer a bit of shade and are easy to pull into position when they're needed. But I am such a greenhouse newbie I have no idea if that'll work. A quick scan through this thread on the Grow Your Own mag forum suggests that it doesn't matter much what you use, provided you use it. Time to get down the junk shop and see if they have any old nets I can buy. 

A post in which I achieve a lifelong goal: becoming a sheddie

I have been promising pictures of my new shed for days now, and finally, here they are. It's a funny old time at Perrone Towers - I am due to give birth to child no 2 any time now, yet my mind is somewhat preoccupied with the changes taking place in the garden: no bad thing, I figure, as lots of heavily pregnant women drive themselves (and their families) crazy getting angsty about when they're going to pop, so this is a welcome distraction. In case my mother in law is reading this, yes, I am getting lots of rest and no, I am not overdoing it (I'm paying someone else to do the heavy labour).

As you can see, not only have I got a new shed (a 10ft x 6ft half glazed apex roof potting shed from Addison Ousebank, if you're a person who cares about that kind of thing) but the back end of the garden is undergoing a major transformation - two 2.4m sq timber raised beds from Harrod Horticultural have been put up in front of the shed, in what will eventually be either side of a brick-style path. The area around the beds will be laid with heavy duty landscape fabric and bark chips, then there'll be a little picket fence to cordon this rear "business end" of the garden off from the rest. 

 I've also pimped my compost bin: well, I stained it, after Rick emptied its contents into a rubble sack for me. It used to be a bit of a disgrace - left untreated it looked ugly and bad management meant it was overflowing and desperately needed turning. A coat of Cuprinol Garden Shades in 'Seagrass' did the trick, and it was promptly refilled with the right proportion of browns and greens. Now it's going like the clappers, giving my two wormeries a chance to catch up. It's amazing how making something in the garden look good encourages me to take better care of it.

The raised beds, the picket fence, the boundary fences and the shed will also get pimped: in fact the compost bin was a bit of a trial run colour-wise. I like this shade of green but think it's a bit too strong for the shed etc - sage green with cream accents will probably be the order of the day for them.

I've learned a lot as a newbie sheddie: apparently I can't just slap on a tin of water-based colour like Garden Shades - I need to wait a year (A YEAR!) until the wood weathers. I don't think I'll be able to hold off that long, but maybe until next spring. I also need advice re tool racks and shed storage, but I'll save that for another post.

This is another view of the raised beds, partly showing the motley collection of shrubs in the brick raised bed in the opposite corner of the garden to the shed. Current plan - as when time and newborn baby allows - is to whip out the prostrate conifer (ugh), variegated euonymous (double ugh) and dark-leaved hebe (ugh etc) at the front, at the very least, and maybe leave the photinia and spruce behind them. Suggestions for replacements welcome. The ornamental quince 'Geisha Girl' and Osmanthus x burkwoodii to the right of the shed (but not in the brick raised bed) will stay for the moment, and will hopefully thrive once freed from the grip of the hideous conifer.

Herons, sheds, and other works in progress

(Let me say, before we go any further, that the willow sculpture you see here is a heron. A HERON. Not a giraffe.)

I made this chap at a willow sculpture workshop taught by Hazel Godfrey at Albion Arts in Harpenden a few weeks back. I don't know what you think of my efforts, but I was rather pleased with him. My friend Sarah also did the course at the same time and  made a heron, which you can see below. It was interesting how everyone in the group followed exactly the same instructions, yet everyone's sculpture came out different. Sarah's heron looks more realistic than mine - mine looks a bit, well, shocked, whereas hers is more naturalistic.

It was enlightening working with willow - the wood has to be soaked for a day per foot to make it supple, then the work of bending it to your will is all down to the strength of your hands. It definitely inspired me to make some willow obelisks for my garden as and when I have the time and materials - they're ridiculously expensive to buy and now I've made a heron, I can make an obelisk, surely?! I just need to lay my hands on some willow. Hazel said she gets most of hers from the wild, so I just need to scope out some harvesting spots ou in the countryside.

My heron - who may well end up being called Horace - is about the only point of interest in my increasingly bare garden right now. Rick kindly got rid of the mostly dead but huge ceanothus bush, a rogue forsythia and a suckered lilac to free up a huge space for my not-yet-bought potting shed. I would've done it myself, but just under 6 months pregnant I've been banned from heavy work in the garden. With any luck by the summer I should have a new shed, possibly a new patio and with any luck, foundations for the garden office, oh, and a new baby. The latter may mean the garden office will take a little longer to get around to, but just getting rid of the algified ice rink that is the decking will be a great relief.

Shed of the week - Edwardian charm

Welcome to the thirst shed of the week entry for 2008.

Elaine Willett has a plot on the Hungerhill allotment site in Nottingham - reportedly the oldest such allotments/community gardens in Europe, and a grade 2* listed site. She writes:

One of the features that made me fall in love with my plot (despite the thicket of brambles) is this little house, complete with tumble-down greenhouse.

Elaine, you lucky, lucky thing! The summerhouse - which admittedly is perhaps a little too grand to be called a shed - looks utterly charming and potentially very useful. How wonderful to have a mini greenhouse, even if it does need some TLC, and I have visions of toasting marshmallows in the little grate of an evening. Elaine continues:

I have grand plans for the greenhouse section, which will be ship-shape and Bristol fashion by spring next year, but I simply love the charm of the run-down little house, with its giant doors that open up to let the outside in.  It's also been a complete life-saver over winter - my trusty partner and I spent many snowy weeks in February chopping down the years of bramble growth across our plots and the fireplace is a splendid place to warm up and have a cuppa. 

Elaine even has photographs of an Edwardian family who worked her very plot - talk about bringing history to life! If you are interested in the history of Hungerhills allotments, there's more info on the St Anns Allotment site, plus some interesting photos, including one of the summerhouses.  There are some ambitious plans to restore and revive the site, which is wonderful to hear.

If you would like to see your shed as the next shed of the week, just drop me an email with a pic or two and details of what, why, where and so forth. I'll pick my favourites to feature here on Horticultural.

And finally, and I've been meaning to perform a large hat-tip to the uber-shed site of the web, Readersheds.co.uk. It's a far more ambitious effort than my modest shed of the week endeavour, and is definitely worth visiting if you are a confirmed sheddie (or should that be sheddite?).

Shed of the week - the seafarer - AND the Horticultural Shed of the Year 2007

These sheds - which are the final entry for shed of the week for 2007 - were spotted on Lindisfarne by Matron of the blog Down on the Allotment. Apparently local fishermen use their old boats as garden sheds.  I've seen smaller boats in people's gardens used as flowerbeds or planters, but nothing on this scale. There's something rather romantic about these structures - the curve of the roof/hull is bordering on the poetic, and probably rather good at handling adverse weather conditions such as storms and heavy rain.

I can imagine pottering around inside with the salty tang of the sea still pervading the atmosphere. But what do you do for light? Are there windows or do you just prop the doors open? Any Lindisfarne readers of this blog who can fill us in? Either way, it's a fine form of reusing boats that have reached the end of their practical life on the ocean.

Now it's time to move on to the other business of the moment - announcing (drumroll ...) the Horticultural Shed of the Year 2007 - my favourite shed from all the entries showcased this year. This was a really hard decision, but I decided in the end to plump for a shed that I felt embodied the true "reduce, reuse, recycle" spirit of the green gardener and allotmenteer, and was also handsome to look at and the product of a craftsman's hand.

That craftsman is Simon Kirby, who writes on the blog The Plot Thickens. You can read the full tale of its construction from pallets and packing crates there, but here's a taster:

In all it’s taken me five weeks to build and has cost me £40. I love it. I wouldn’t have a bought shed if you paid me. It’s very environmentally-friendly because the pallets just go to land-fill and it’s a wonderful bit of self-expression, but not everyone can afford the 100+ hours it took to build so it’s probably not for everyone.

Well done Simon! A copy of my book, The Allotment Keeper's Handbook, will be making its way to him shortly.

And don't worry, shed of the week isn't going away. If you would like to nominate a shed for shed of the week in 2008, just drop me an email with a picture and as much information as possible about the shed - where it is, who it belongs to and what you think of it.

Shed of the week - the make do and mend

This week's shed embodies one of the central concepts of allotmenteering - the make do and mend approach that was so necessary during world war two. It was sent in by Jim Nye of the blog Hoe Hoe Hoe, who writes:

This shed belonged to our oldest allotmenteer Fred who sadly had to give up his plot this year as it became to much for him.

 

The new plot holders have demolished it, I personally felt that it should have had a preservation order put on it. So all that remains are my photographs.

This is where things get tricky on allotment sites - some of the older chaps have an allotment culture that younger plot holders sometimes dismiss, particularly when things look a little dishevelled, like this shed. But we'd be foolish to ignore the wealth of knowledge of the soil and locale that well established allotmenteers can offer.

On the other hand, some older allotment structures are quite literally about to fall down. or contain asbestos, as we've already seen, so there are occasions when sheds that have seen better days need to be replaced. Well done Jim for recording this one for posterity before it was dismantled (and, with any luck, the materials responsibly disposed of).

Next week will be the final shed for 2007, when I'll announce my favourite shed from all those sent in by readers - a copy of my book on allotments will be the prize who whoever sent it in. It's not too late to send in your shed, just drop me an email. You can see all of the sheds so far here.

Shed of the week - the pallet shed

I wish I was talented enough to build a shed like this.

You'll need to visit Simon Kirby's blog for the full photo story of its construction from pallets and packing crates, but this image gives you a taster of the nearly-finished product. Simon, who calls himself a bit of a "shedonist", says:

In all it’s taken me five weeks to build and has cost me £40. I love it. I wouldn’t have a bought shed if you paid me. It’s very environmentally-friendly because the pallets just go to land-fill and it’s a wonderful bit of self-expression, but not everyone can afford the 100+ hours it took to build so it’s probably not for everyone.

More power to your elbow, Simon!

Shed of the week - tumbledown doesn't do it justice

I think this has to be my favourite shed of the week entry thus far. It comes from Guy, who tells me:

"We (my allotment partner in crime Jon and I) inheritated it this summer on our new plot at Acton Vale, as you will realise when you've looked at the picture it has definitely seen better days. Clearing it out was something of a Time Team experience, layer upon layer of old seed packets, tools, random Tupperware and the like all giving a hint at previous tenants' lives and loves. The door came apart last week, so we now have to prop up the remaining timbers in a kind of jigsaw like manner to acheive any kind of closure."

What I love about this shed is its tenuous hold on the vertical; the sense that at any moment, the entire structure could collapse and become one with the organic material around it. A metaphor for one's ability (or lack of?) to control and direct nature? Perhaps. Or a testament to the "handiness" of generations of allotmenteers in making do and mending? I salute you, shed at plot no 16, Acton Vale allotments. Long may you continue your unsteady grasp on uprightness.

If you want to submit your shed to shed of the week, drop me an email. I'll feature the best ones on the blog, and my absolute favourite for 2007, which I'll select around Christmastime, will get a copy of my book on allotments.

Shed of the week - the asbo shed

That's "asbo" as in short for asbestos, not anti-social behaviour order. Andrew Gordon is the unlucky keeper of this particular shed. He's convinced it is held together with the rather unpleasant substance.

"Even the floor is covered in a thick layer of cement dust and what looks like broken bits of asbestos," he writes in a recent email to this blog. Eugh ...

"And we thought allotments were healthy places," he concludes.

Indeed. Well, it's quite often not the case. Asbestos was flytipped a while back on my site, and older sheds are often home to elderly cans of all kinds of dodgy, now-banned chemicals, doors covered in lead paint and the like. And soil can be contaminated with bits of plastic, glass and much worse (hence: always wear thick gloves when clearing a new plot).

On a brighter note, the greenery on top of this shed softens the industrial look. For aesthetics, this shed gets a healthy six out of 10. For health and safety, zero.

If you want to submit your shed to shed of the week, drop me an email. I'll feature the best ones on the blog, and my absolute favourite will get a copy of my book on allotments.

Meanwhile: an article from the Guardian newspaper on the Australian men's shed movement.

Shed of the week - Spa Hill allotments

Thanks to m'venerable Guardian Unlimited colleague Jon Dennis for this photo of a shed at Spa Hill allotments in London. Jon is on the waiting list for a plot on this site, which he tells me is "fantastic", with a library, a shop, a cafe ... and you can get gardening lessons.

This particular shed comes with a message - but what can it mean? I have no idea what HCP stands for. It has a certain Wendy house-like quality - due to the windows, I suspect. The fawn-coloured bath alongside adds a certain seventies charm to the scene, while the flat top is ripe for conversion to a green roof turfed with sedums and the like.

This is my shed of the week. Think you can do better? Send me a pic and details of why your shed is the best and I'll select the finest to showcase here on Horticultural. My absolute favourite will get a copy of my book.