Well, it hasn't needed watering

Not long ago I was making daily visits to the allotment to avoid dust-bowl and blown-away syndrome (my Oklahoma home it blowed away). But that was then and this is now. Haven't had a day without rain for nearly two weeks now, and of course it rained on St Swithin's day. I'm not in the least bit superstitious but we do seem to be in a bit of a rut, weather-wise.

Anyway, how's the plot looking? Surprisingly good, if you aim off for the lack of weeding. I was afraid it might have all sprung back into rampant life and got away from me but it hasn't. I think it was so dry it's taken a little while to adjust back to dampness (like me, really). But if I don't weed it soon I'll have lost it until the frosts come. Hoe, Hoe, Hoe yer plot; that's the thing to do. Merrily, merrily etc.

But the beans are looking good

Both sorts

Here's a cheeky little gherkin trying not to show his face

And look at this chap.

I've got dozens just like him. Ya want blackberries; I've got blackberries. Aren't they beauties?

Cornflowers; what's not to like?

Courgettes & dastardly deeds

The courgette plantation is getting into it's stride.



Blackberries are looking good too.


But someone has made off with my hose connector - my good brass hose connector. Foolishly and inadvertently I'd left it attached to the water pipe the last time I used the hosepipe. The water pipe isn't exactly visible; it's set into a metal box flush with the ground so it wouldn't be on view for any passing stranger to run off with. I've left a note inside the metal box, urging its return, but I don't suppose I'll see it again. I've bought a crappy cheap plastic one instead.

Something completely different

You deserve a break from all this allotmenteering. So do I. I should have been in France this week investigating the allotments of the Quiberon peninsula. But my back went into "lock-up & wince" mode and was heard to say "Camping? Sleeping on the ground? In my condition? You must be joking, matey". So I had to cancel.

But it improved over the week to the point where I could go scootering yesterday. This is the highest point between Upper Wharfedale & Wensleydale.



Next stop the bikers cafe in Hawes.


Five minutes later it was raining.

Lovage rampant

Look at this. It's over 6 feet high and bearing a worrying resemblance to a triffid



I'm sadly disappointed by the plum tree though; and not for the first time. In fact the history of this plum tree is one of disappointment in four years out of five. It's only because it redeemed itself last year that it didn't find itself uprooted with extreme prejudice. But this year it's back to it's old habits; there were lots of little plums set but most of them have dropped off. These are a few of the survivors. No plum jam this year.


On a happier note the sweet peas have started flowering although they're a bit runty.



I think the whole plot is suffering from a lack of manure. Autumn job there, methinks.

Some things you only learn too late

Strimming nettles while wearing shorts is not a good idea.

My legs have enough hives to start an apiary.

The mysterious case of the levitating strawberry

When we looked out this morning there was a strawberry neatly perched on top of the fence, a good six feet off the ground.


How? Why? Who?

I am growing strawberries, in fact we had the first three last night, and very tasty they were too. Close examination of the fenceberry shows what look like rodent teeth marks.


Squirrel, methinks. But why didn't he eat it all? Why leave it neatly perched six feet off the ground?

Who knows what goes on in the mind of a squirrel but I've got a message for this one:

Hop it, Tufty; those are my strawberries

It was warmer than this in Kefalonia

Sunday afternoon - 34C, blue sky, sunshine, souvlaki, Mythos. Yep, the Wilburys were in Kefalonia

Sunday evening - 13C, grey sky, lashing with rain, curry, Carlsberg. Yep, back in Britain.

We'd never been to Kefalonia before and expected it to be a bit like Crete, which we go to a lot. And funnily enough it was! Well, there's a surprise. But without the goats. We love goats, ideally chargrilled with a nice Greek salad, but although we saw plenty of goat poo we saw virtually no goats. Lots of bouganvillea though.


Interesting botanical fact about Bougainvillea - the flower 'petals' aren't petals at all but bracts. It's named after Louis Antoine de Bouganville (1729 - 1811).

He wrote after one battle "The very air we breathe is contagious of insensibility and hardness". It felt a bit like that as we landed in Manchester.

Early starts

I thought yesterday was an early start; I was on the allotment by 8.00

Today I was there before 7.00 !! Thought I'd capitalise on the overnight shower and give everywhere a good soaking before there was any competition for the water pressure.

I could save travelling time and sleep there?

Wilma Wilbury says I may as well sleep there anyway, the amount of time I spend there. Oops.

Beans ahoy

They're in. Later than I'd like but they're in. Still no joy with the Climbing French. I fear I might have to buy some (the shame, the shame).

But the nursery bed is looking good (pretentious? Moi?). Look at these leeks (strictly, leeklets!)


Later-in-the-year's Blackberries are looking good too.

And finally, every allotment should have a thing of beauty. That role is normally filled by the ever-lovely Wilma Wilbury but today she is usurped by a dog rose:

Peas, Beans & Bishops

Here are the peas. Can you spot 'em?


Mangetout. Securely fenced in to keep they pigeons off. So securely fenced in I doubt I'll be able to get at them when they're ready. And the next batch were sown yesterday; successional sowings 'r us! Traditionally, I'm rubbish at successional sowings so I'm trying harder this year. I sow them in a half-round gutter, then just slide 'em in.

Beans are a different story altogether, although still legumes. Obviously. My runner beans have been very lethargic this year. sown three weeks ago & only just germinating. Very poor, chaps. Come on; arse in gear please. But even that is better than the Climbing French, who have without exception turned into Caving French. Well, they ain't come up so they musta gone down? So I've had to start again from scratch, very late, with those. Perfidious French, huh?

And as for the Bishops? Well, here's the Bishop of Llandaff.
He's a dahlia but He never showed at all last year, or the year before, when I planted the beggar outdoors in the True Sod. So this year I gave him comfy quarters in the One True Greenhouse and at least this year he's shown his face. I have two more of him lurking around and waiting to see what will happen. Lurking Bishops? Isn't there a Monty Python sketch somewhere there? Spanish Inquisition?

Oh, and I've cut the hedge.

Neat or what. Chuffing hard work though. I have a petrol hedgecutter, which is dead good but ye gods it's heavy. Like carrying a small motorbike around with you.

Dead in the Water

Sadly, that's exactly what this little fella was

Travelling vicariously

I've been all over the world this week, starting in Abyssinia, and the Danakil Depression. Later I went to the Hindu Kush and the marshes of southern Iraq. Along the way I called in at Austin, Texas and Saltaire, Yorkshire, and the CAMRA Pub of the Year (twice), before ending at Heeley & District Allotment Society. Crikey.

To explain, for my 60th birthday Wilma Wilbury bought me membership of the Royal Geographical Society.. They have a lecture programme every Monday evening, and last Monday's was by the biographer of Sir Wilfred Thesiger. I read Arabian Sands, Thesiger's masterwork on the crossing of the Empty Quarter, when I was 13 and it's never left me. Thesiger was born in Abyssinia in 1910 and, well you can work out the rest for yourselves.

Austin, Texas was courtesy of the Hot Club of Cowtown, gigging at the Victoria Hall, Saltaire. I'm in danger of (danger of? I am!) becoming a groupie. Go see 'em.

The Kelham Island Tavern is in Sheffield's "Beer Alley" and the Heeley & District Allotment Society Plant Sale is courtesy of my fellow-blogger, Michelle. Good to meet you this morning.

Phew; I need a rest after all that. I am 60 you know!!

Not too bad....

.....at the allotment either.

Massive strimmage yesterday left it reasonably tidy but today saw a major dig-out of one of my many bindweed plantations. I got two barrowloads of bindweed out of one bed. But it was worth it; I was able to plant the first batch of salad leaves. Red Cos, Green Salad Bowl & Lollo Rossa lettuce, along with some Pac Choi, all suitably pigeon-proofed.


Rest of it doesn't look too bad either, if you ignore the big pile of manky old sticks due for burning.

The Factory

At this time of year a greenhouse is just a seed and plant factory. I'm just soooo glad I've got one again.

On this day.....

.....9 years ago I flew to New York. The Winston Churchill Memorial Trust had given me a grant of £6000 to fund a 2 month journey following in the footsteps of David Douglas, botanist and plant collector (1799-1834).

I can truthfully say it changed, and continues to change, my life. Regular readers of this blog over the last couple of years will have seen some of those adventures and subsequent trips.

My great regret in connection with this is that my father never knew about it. He died 4 years before I set off, but would have loved to hear about it. He hardly travelled at all and in many ways I travel in his name. Tomorrow is his birthday; he would have been 95.

Love that Lovage

Now that's what I call Lovage. Really getting into its stride now, 3 years on and 3 feet high.

More Spuds

Well, we like new potatoes.

Tatty Bags

Here's the cunning plan to have Jersey Royals (or International Kidneys, to give them their non-protected name) on tap. Looking forward to them already.

So cold

Today was the start of this year's cycling

11 miles round Rother Valley Country Park and the Transpennine Trail. But so cold.

These chaps looked cold too.

Partialled

I've been partialled!

Last Friday was my last working Friday. I've taken partial retirement and now work three days a week - Tues, Weds, Thurs.

Summer is coming, I'm only working three days a week, what's not to like?

Return of the Greenhouse

I had a greenhouse at our previous house and left it behind when we moved; too difficult to dismantle and remove.

I've missed it since the day we moved, but no more; I've spent the weekend assembling my 60th birthday present to myself - a 6ft x 8ft greenhouse.

It hasn't been the easiest of jobs.

The instructions were clearly written by someone who was completely familiar with the task and all the various complex shaped and almost identical components, which is always a mistake.

I think instructions are best written by (and certainly for) a complete idiot who has never done the job before. I managed to keep the air relatively clean, even though some bits turned out to be assembled in mirror-image format and had to be dismantled & remantled. Some bits turned out to be upside down; not much use when you're trying to hang a door from them. Other bits, which were actually correct, had to be disconnected in order to fit later bits of the assembly. Did the instructions mention that at any point? Not a word.

I'm not usually cack-handed at this sort of thing; I have a Masters in IKEA assembling. And I couldn't have done it without Wilma Wilbury's assistance; just didn't have enough hands. Even with the two of us we didn't have quite enough hands and had to use masking tape to stop things wibbling into the wrong place.

But it went together eventually


and after a spot of heavy lifting it moved off the patio and into it's home in the garden.


Phew!

It's now about two-thirds glazed; need to get on with it because I've got plants queueing up to get into it. And a pigeon has already christened it!!

Pah!!

..... just missed being stranded in the USA for weeks on end. I flew back on Tuesday (upgraded to Club Class; thanks BA, could get used to that) and the volcano blew on Thursday. Just two days it needed to wait but no, I'll have to go back to work tomorrow.

Pah, indeed!!

On this day, in 1825....

.... David Douglas, botanist & plant collector (1799-1834) first set foot in the Pacific NorthWest, at the mouth of the Columbia River. His journal records:

April 8th 1825, I went on shore on Cape Disappointment. Constant heavy rain, cold, thermometer 47deg.

One half of the Wilburys is in Oregon, launching the film "Finding David Douglas" at the World Forestry Centre, Portland. Guess what the weather was like 185 years later. Yep; you got it.

Wilma Wilbury remains at home and, counter-intuitively, has taken the opportunity to remove a Douglas introduction from the garden.


Sitka Spruce are a mainstay of the UK forestry industry but are NBG at all when planted too close to the house by the previous owner and left to grow , and grow, and grow. The garden looks better already, I'm told.

Asparagus

Last year's attempt at Asparagus was so poor (rubbish crowns, poor preparation, done in haste, predictable result) that it warrants another go. So here it is:

Before

During - funny looking things aren't they. The asparagus-eating spider crabs have landed!!

After

And look at this - the first proper "produce" of the season.

I feel a rhubarb crumble coming on. Yeah, I know, waistline. Phooey. What's the point of growing the beggars if ya don't eat 'em? And who can resist a rhubarb crumble.

And finally, doesn't this look neat?

I'm quite chuffed with just how neat & tidy this looks. Mind you, the bit behind me which you can't see tells another story!

Almost a codger

Today is my last Sunday in my fifties. I have a significant birthday imminent and next time I post anything here I'll be 60. I already have my bus pass. Bus Pass!!; Ye Gods, I've got a bus pass. How did that happen? Still, I suppose it'll be useful for going to & from the pub!

But does this involve pipe & slippers and "slowing down a bit"? No it don't. There is a standing instruction in our house that if I am ever heard to utter the sentence "I could really do with a nice pair of slippers", Wilma Wilbury rushes me straight to the canal and a fitting for some concrete wellies. I hate slippers.

Anyway, not only is it my last in my fifties it's also the Vernal Equinox, when the days are now longer than the nights. And about time too. Two key signs of vernal equinox on the plot:

Lovage is back


I always feel better when the Lovage (Maggikraut in Dutch) reappears.

And the garlic, planted on Wilma's birthday at the Autumn Equinox, is doing really well. Just look at these.

What a difference a week makes

Last Sunday

Today

Go, Rhubarb, Go

At last

I've finally got some sowing done. It feels as though I'm miles behind, but then so is everyone else. No point sowing stuff when it's been so cold. But today the season has opened, in a small way, with:

Tomatoes
Monte Carlo, Lilliput (cherry type) & Astro Plum - all F1 hybrids from Seeds of Italy

Cabbage
Stonehead, red Drumhead & Filderkraut (some kind of German shredding cabbage apparently? We'll see!)

And a good dollop of Sweet Peas.

I've put them all in a seed mixture I've not tried before, courtesy of Jane Perrone's Allotment Keeper's Handbook, viz:

2 handfuls of 'normal' potting compost
1 handful of Vermiculite
1 handful of Silver Sand

It looks good & handles well. Fingers crossed; no pressure there then, Jane!

I've also moved the strawberry plants out of the conservatory into the cold frame, resurrected from winter quarters, buried in old crap behind the shed. The conservatory itself is bursting with plug plants I'm growing on:

Geraniums x24
Begonia x20
Impatiens x24
Petunia (ordinary) x20 (and a bit scabby cos I let them dry out)
Petunia (Surfinia) x8
Nepeta x8
Fuchsia (upright) x8

They're all still quite titchy of course but they'll grow; oh lordy, how they'll grow. Wish I had a greenhouse.

Fame!!

Allotment 81 goes mega!!

I'm in The Times today in the Daily Universal Register.

I've no idea who suggested it but many thanks to whoever you are. Now I need to work harder at keeping you all up to date.

Selfless, or what?

This bare and unprepossessing stick is a Cherry tree, freshly planted this afternoon.



So what? So what's selfless about that, you cry.

I don't like cherries!

But Mrs Wilbury does.