Horticultural

Happy it's raining

How evil is it for me to be ecstatic that it has been pouring with rain all weekend, because I am stuck in the house editing the final manuscript of my book, and the weather means I'm less distracted by the thought of a trip down the allotment?

I know it means everyone else who wanted to spend a few hours of quality time on their plot faces the prospect of a miserable time squelching about, but my deadline (June 1, now you ask) is looming so large now that any residual sympathy has to be pushed aside.

If it's any comfort, I did get soaked to the skin going to buy a paper yesterday. And then my cold frame blew over in the wind a couple of nights back and I had to go into the garden at 6am in dressing gown and slippers to rescue my tomatoes. That'll teach me for not weighting it down with a brick.

Phew!

Well, that was interesting.

The book is done - well, the first draft anyway. I've already starting making changes, but it feels wonderful to hold the whole document in my hands.

Since the last word was typed on Saturday, I've been spending some quality time on my allotment at last. It's beginning to look slightly more kempt, as opposed to its existence over the last few months as a holding area for weeds, with the occasional wind-whipped plastic bag doing a passable impression of tumbleweed. The spuds are in - well half of them at least, the raspberry bushes are sprouting and I am awaiting the arrival of my new raised beds, which I'll tell you about in another post.

In a fit of enthusiasm I've also managed during the last few weeks to finish the renovating of three beds in the garden, treating myself to a few new plants including some rather promising Clematis cirrhosa, the evergreen winter/spring flowering clematis. It's made me very happy. Funny how a bit of fresh air, exercise and sticking your hands in the soil can do that, isn't it?

This weekend, I shall mostly be writing about manure

Good news: my book has a title!

Not-so-good news: I am not sure if it's public knowledge yet - will have to check with the publishers. But safe to say things are moving apace and I may be able to furnish you, dear reader, with more details soon.

I've got two chapters left to polish off, and I can see the finishing line beginning to hove into view. Hallelujah!

So this weekend, when I am not planting the exciting selection of plants I just bought on eBay (of which more later, but black hollyhocks - yum!) and planting potatoes, I shall be putting fingers to keyboard on  how to assess and improve your soil. All manure tips (virtual, not literal) welcome at the usual address.

Keeping busy

Everyone seems to be getting geared up for the growing year ahead: Allotment Chick has been seed sorting, and Allotment Lady has been making homemade sausages, Al at Anything But Sprouts has been digging the lawn, Anna's getting beds ready over at Plot C81, and the Gnome has been getting up a sweat on Down at the Allotment. And the Accidental Smallholder has a very fine looking new cockerel.

What have I been doing? The routine's been something like this: get up after extended period of lying in bed peering at the clock in disbelief at the time; wash, breakfast and dress; go to work (either the Office, or my office, depending on whether it's a weekday or weekend); work or write; go home; eat; stare at TV in comatose state; wash up; go to bed.

In other words, I am trying to write a book and do a full time job, and keep up this blog, and that's hard, sometimes.

Of course things would look a lot brighter if the weather wasn't cold enough to freeze the balls off a brass monkey tonight ...

Music to pick cabbages by

Prince Charles talks to his plants: I force them to listen to the Archers.

As David Aaronovitch once put it, The Archers is like syphilis - it can be inquired in two ways: heredity, and direct contact with a sufferer. In my case it was the former; listening to the omnibus edition on a Sunday morning in a kitchen steamy with veg cooking for the Sunday roast.

Nowadays I find the Archers omnibus is a great accompaniment to a session on the allotment, although Rick prefers to listen to the football on Radio Five Live. We usually take our wind-up radio and there's rarely anyone else to be bothered by Linda Snell's cut glass accent, although it has to be turned up rather loud unless I am right next to the radio.

I've also tried listening to my iPod while on the plot, but I've discovered that wires dangling from your ears are somewhat impractical for most allotment activitiies. Nevertheless, I fancy coming up with an allotment-themed playlist. After scanning through my iPod I came up with the following: Forty Shades of Green by Johnny Cash, Four Seasons in One Day by Crowded House, Hell's Ditch by the Pogues, I Smell Winter by the Housemartins, In Bloom by Nirvana, Life in a Glass House by Radiohead and Rain by Patty Griffin, although I am sure you can think of plenty more.

I'm also not averse to making my own music on the plot. I've also been known to indulge in the occasional burst of song on particularly crisp spring Sunday mornings if the site's empty, although my plot also borders a public footpath so it does attract some odd looks. Most of the time I prefer to listen to the sounds around me: the chortling of the pheasants in the neighbouring field, the sparrows bickering in the hedgerow and the distant shouts of the footballers on the rec.

I've always got some plan or project running around my head, but the space and silence helps me to find some room for contemplation. One of the ironies about writing the book is that it's actually given me less time to spend on my allotment, although given that the bulk of it will be written during the winter months, that hasn't been so much of a problem.

Monty Don has written about longing to be able to spend a guilt-free few days working in his garden, and I feel the same about the allotment. I think I am going to pencil in some "allotment weekends" in April so I can really get cracking with all the plans I have in mind. The job for this weekend is to assemble to two cold frames that have been sitting on my dining table in flat pack form for the past fortnight.

Christmas canned

Being a gardener makes for an easy time for family and friends with Christmas presents in mind. I'd say 75% of my gifts this year were garden-related, including this very fine watering can (for the garden - too nickable to go on the allotment) and a very groovy and compact plug plant trainer that's already been sown with some red baron onion seeds and (optimistically) some lettuce.

I also got a pole-mounted bird feeder that I braved the snow to set up in the garden today. I keep checking for customers but no sightings so far. I wonder how long it takes for birds to spot a peanut feeder and home in on it? Are they nervous at first? Can they smell the nuts? Despite being a YOC member in my youth, I have no idea and am hoping a budding Bill Oddie (or maybe even the man himself) can help me out ...

And I have a serious question for you about blight on tomatoes and potatoes, in relation to "the book". I've never experienced it but I am curious as to how much it impacts on allotmenteers and organic gardeners. Have your potatoes and tomatoes suffered from it? How do you treat it? Is it the worst disease you face? Answers on a virtual postcard please ...

Tool time

Thanks to those of you who emailed me with your musings on weeds - if I haven't replied to you I'll do so soon. In the meantime, I've been thinking about tools. It has struck me that I don't write an awful lot here about the stuff I use on the plot: forks, spades, rakes and so forth - even though they're central to what I do.

Monty Don says he has one special spade that he won't let anyone else use. My favourite tool is my bronze spade. But I'd never leave it on the allotment for fear of theft. So I am wondering if allotmenteers try not to get too attached to their equipment because there is the constant risk of theft or vandalism? Your comments welcome.

I'm also after your top "bodge" tricks: in other words, what commonly used household objects do you put to a completely different use on the allotment? I am trying to gather as many uses for plastic bottles as I can, but also any unusual ways you've found of recycling things that would otherwise go in the bin.

Here's a couple of mine to whet your appetite: an old wooden spoon makes a great dibber for planting seedlings. If you have two, twist a length of string around one, tie the end to the other and, hey presto, you have a way of making a straight line for seed sowing.

Mulch ado

I'm off work today, working on the book. So here I am sitting at my laptop, drinking green tea and writing about weeds at the moment, so if you have any cunning ways of getting rid of them, or crazy schemes you'd like to share with me, please do.

In the meantime I just have to share with you a quote from the Australian mulch queen, Sandra Clayton. In fact it's the last line of her inspiring book The Reverse Garbage Mulch Book:

So go to it - it's a dog-eat-dog world, but instead of eating the dog, let's throw it on the garden.

Now, I know what's she's saying, but she's not actually sanctioning the eating - or mulching - of family pets. I don't think so, anyway.

Secret's out: I'm writing a book

I thought I'd finally tell you a bit more about the project I mentioned obliquely a few days ago.

I am writing a book about my allotment: not so much an instructional manual as an amusing seasonal romp through the pleasures and pitfalls of renting a plot and growing your own fruit and vegetables (or something like that ...).

It's going to be made up of new material, plus a few carefully selected highlights (there were highlights, weren't there?!) from the archives of Horticultural. And don't worry, I won't be giving up this blog either: it'll still be home to regular updates on my allotment and garden exploits.

Here's where you come in: I am keen to hear your thoughts. So if you have a favourite allotment anecdote or horror story, top tip for growing a particular vegetable or a great post from your allotment blog you'd like to share with the world, please drop me an email with your name and a few details about yourself. Of course, if I include your tip in the book, I'll credit you and list a link to your blog. Do spread the word to other allotmenteers you know, as I'd love to have as wide an input as possible.

It won't be out in the shops until some time next year, but I'll try to give you regular progress reports on how it's going here (so far: three chapters written, several more in the pipeline).