Buttercups

Don't you just love them? On an allotment, definitely not but you have to admire them as a really successful plant. Tenacious, adaptable, vigorous, ineradicable, and with lovely yellow flowers too. What more could you want?

I spent two hours this afternoon digging the little beggars out of one of the sub-plots, with the results you see.

But effort is it's own reward because that part of the plot now holds twenty-ish cabbages. I'm trying something new to deter pigeons - it's some reflective holographic tape which flashes and twists and [supposedly] scares them off. We'll see. I suspect they are, at this very moment sitting next to it, hooting with derision before gorging themselves on MY cabbages.

The only good pigeon is roasted and on my plate. I have actually eaten pigeon. It was OK but I couldn't eat enough of them to make a dent in the population!

At daylight, four a.m. …………..

…… [21st May, 1827] started on foot accompanied by an old Nipissing Indian who had spent many years west of the Rocky Mountains. Although to appearance upward of seventy years of age I found him a most excellent walker. Passed a deep muddy swamp a mile broad and entered a thick point of pine of five more, when I was informed the laborious part of the journey was over.

Continued my route along Lake Bowland where two men had been sent on to fish. Having been unsuccessful and no breakfast my stay was short.

Passed the small deep rivulets by means of throwing down two trees. All the hollow parts of the plains overflowed with water – to all appearance shallow lakes. Appears to have at one time abounded in Red and Long-tailed deer, many horns being strewed over the ground.

At three o’clock came to Sturgeon River, a small deep muddy stream but at this season large, the banks overflowed. My hatchet being small, two hours were spent making a raft. I would not have lost three minutes in crossing [says intrepid Douglas], but my poor old guide was afraid the chilliness of the water would injure him, having perspired much, and on his account I assisted him in raft making.

Being then only nine miles from Fort Edmonton on the Saskatchewan my spirits revived and I hastily tripped over the ground and passed many muddy creeks, wading to the middle. Night creeping in on me, my view of the country gradually disappeared. At eight I heard the evening howl of the sledge dogs, which to me was sweet music, and perceived fires in some lodges which I knew to be near the establishment [Fort Edmonton].

Being all over with mud, I returned half a mile to a small lake, stripped and plunged myself in and then comforted myself with a clean shirt.

I was most kindly received, and had supper prepared for me of fine moose-deer steaks, which were most acceptable after a walk of forty-three miles through a most wretched country without having anything to eat.

[Now let’s just reprise that. He has risen at 4, with no breakfast, walked 43 miles with no food, wading through swamps to the middle, building rafts for his old Indian guide, and still has time to scrub-up and comfort himself with a clean shirt before supper. Fit as a butcher’s dog!]

Tomatoes in!!!

26 tomato plants in tonight, just ahead of the predicted rain. They're a mix of Tamina (a potato-leave variety), Gardener's Delight and some Beefsteak variety. Unfortunately, mix is the right word because the labels have gone astray so, apart from Tamina whch I can recognise from the leaves, I know not what they are. Hey Ho

Now there's only the small matter of the remaining 14 to squeeze in somewhere!

Grape vine is coming on too. Just visible, altho sadly not to a camera, are the flower buds which will become grape buds which will become...... Chateau Brincliffe?

A sufficiency of fish……

….being caught for a part of the journey, raised camp at ten [May 20th, 1827], keeping a south course. Road very bad [heading SE towards Edmonton], much worse than any yet gone over; passing the numerous swamps often sinking nearly to the middle in mud and water. Some of the horses obliged us to camp earlier than expectation, being broken down with fatigue and paving to pass a thick wood five miles long where no fodder could be had.

The distance to the establishment being only (!) about forty miles I intend to start on foot in order that a few more days may be had to collect [seeds]; at the same time I am most anxious to learn the fate of my packet of seeds [entrusted to another before departure]. This day’s march is nine miles.

Three large rafts being made.....

....sufficient to carry all the baggage and persons in one trip, the [Pembina] river being too broad and rapid to return with one, we all crossed. Went before the brigade in quest of birds, but still unfortunate. path a little better than the preceding days, ground high and not so thickly wooded.

Shortly after two o'clock [May 18th, 1827, north-west of Edmonton] arrived at Eagle Lake in which are caught grey sucker, white fish, and pike or jackfish, where we must stay to procure wherewithal to complete the remainder of our journey to the Saskatchewan. Thirty one were caught before dusk.

May 19th, 1827

The fishermen during last night caught only sixty fish, all good eating

Back to the plot!

I've got the whole week off so this is a good opportunity to catch up on allotment work.

First job - connect the hose, empty the bottom bath of winter sludge and refill with lovely cold clean water. I love that first refill of the new season.

While that is filling, a massive weed of "Tomato Plot", then a massive weed of "Bean Plot", accompanied all the while by a robin who ate so much it's a wonder he can still fly.

I remembered the camping stove this time so plenty of tea before putting up the bean canes. This really feels like progress, even more so as the beans are sitting patiently at home, ready to go in.

May 17th, 1827

Morning raw and unpleasant. Two hours walk through an excessively bad road took us to Paddle River, a rapid muddy creek, thirty yards wide and at present swollen over its banks from melting of the snow. A raft was constructed and two men swam across and pulled it over by a rope; by this tedious operation we all got over in the space of three hours.

This place affording no fodder for the horses, went on until we came to a low plain at midday. As soon as refreshed in the afternoon, continued through a thick woody country intersected by narrow lakes until we reached the Pembina River at dusk, and regretted at not finding the canoes which we parted from six days ago.

May 16th, 1827

Continued our route through the same sort of country as yesterday, still bad road and nothing in the way of plants. Breakfasted in a low wet plain near a narrow lake, where we made a stay of a few hours to refresh the horses. Passed through a low point near a creek bank, in many places by old beaver dams. Entered a second plain and camped in the wood at the south end. rainy with thunder.

[Douglas is at this point in present-day Alberta, heading roughly south-east from Fort Assiniboine towards Edmonton, still some days off. The small town of Camp Creek is a good estimate of where he was. Tomorrow he'll reach the Pembina River]

This uninteresting wretched country.......

.......affording me no plants, I took a gun and went in quest of partridges [very fond of his partridges, Mr D, especially roasted in front of an open fire, or boiled]. Killed three but only one was worth skinning. Camped at "Two Rivers" much fatigued. Observed two species of Ribes, both common west of the mountains on the margin of mountain rivulets. Showery, with hailstones of large size

David Douglas, botanist, May 15th, 1827

Western Canada, 1827

"May 14th. Morning dull & cloudy. At two o'clock crossed the [Athabasca] river. Took our course in a south direction through a low marshy country. path very bad, sinking to the knees in mud and kept by the still frozen soil at the bottom from going further. Killed a female partridge. Could not preserve it. Regret it"

David Douglas, botanist

Parallel lives

Long-standing readers of this blog (sit down, take the weight off your feet) will recall my interest (obsession?) with the life and works of David Douglas, botanist & plant collector extraordinaire, 1799-1834. I've followed him around the world, from his birthplace in Scone to where he died in Hawaii and his grave in Honolulu. If you have a flowering currant or California poppy in your garden you have a direct connection to Douglas. If you live in a house built in the UK since the late 1800s you have an even more direct connection because all your structural timbers are probably from species introduced by Douglas.

Anyway, later this summer I'm off following him again, to York Factory on the shores of Hudson's Bay. To mark this I thought I'd give you some contemporaneous accounts from his 1827 journal of his trek across the continent from the Pacific Northwest to Hudson's Bay.

Douglas has a very laconic style. Always travelling in hard, nay harsh, circumstances he makes light of his difficulties. This is a man who observes that "...so much worn out was I three times by fatigue and hunger that twice I crawled, for I could hardly walk, to a small abandoned hut. I had in my knapsack one biscuit."

Later, on the Columbia River, he observes the effect of the native's diet - "Lewis observes that when eaten in a large quantity they [Camass roots] occasion bowel complaints. This I am not aware of but assuredly they produce flatulence.; when in the Indian hut I was almost blown out by strength of wind."

He ends 1826 on the Multnomah River above present-day Portland, Oregon ending a hard-bargaining session with an Indian with the immortal words "He had my blessing and promise of a sound flogging should I ever meet him in a convenient place."

Now let's pick him up contemporaneously. Here he is on May 13th, 1827 on the Athabasca River, on his cross-continent journey with the voyageurs of the Hudson's Bay Express. He has already spent two months coming up the Columbia, over the Rockies through the Athabasca Pass and is now working his way down the Athabasca River.

"Sunday 13th. Close and cloudy. By making an early start 10 miles was gained to breakfast; shortly afterwards we left the canoe and cut over a low point of wood and arrived at Assiniboine at two o'clock. Mr Stuart killed a male partridge. I make some small slug and procure a pair of this fine bird."

Watch this space for more from David Douglas, as well as normal service from his mate Woody Wilbury at Allotment 81.

Kew!!!!

Just look at this

It is of course the Titan Arum, fast approaching flowering. It currently stands at around 2 metres tall and will reach 3 metres before flowering. Then you need to batten down your nostrils because the smell it emits is obnoxious. And the female flowers are receptive for one night only, the night before the male flowers produce pollen. There's playing hard to get and there's being positively awkward. Hand pollination is difficult and involves two inflorescenses flowering in perfect sequence or the use of frozen pollen. Frozen pollen!! Ye Gods.

You'll deduce from this that Woody has been to Kew, where this is growing in the Princess of Wales Conservatory. Kew is fabulous, and I hadn't been since I was a teenager, umpty years ago. Why? Fool.

Outside Woody was pleased to spot Kew's Gingko biloba, dating from 1762.

This is one of the few trees remaining from the first botanic garden established by Princess Augusta, George III's mother, in 1759.

And just for North Atlantic balance, here's the oldest Gingko in North America, growing in Bartram's Garden, Philadelphia, and also dating from the late 1700s (1785 to be [fairly] precise). The tree was there when David Douglas visited Bartram (King's Botanist in N America) in 1823. Bartram himself wasn't there, having inconsiderately died 6 weeks earlier. The tree is still in good shape, or at least it was in 2001 when I was there, but if you look closely you can see steel cables holding it together. But at 250+ yrs old I think it deserves a bit of support.

Massive Attack....

..... on the weeds and general herbage, which is going forth like ye olde clappers at the moment, it being moist and waarm (a Sheffield word for 'not-quite-hot'; usually prefacing a nice pint of Waards - a Sheffield word for beer, sadly now defunct in it's home town). I work less than a hundred yaards from the former Waards brewery and lament the lack most days.

Anyway, back to the point (terrible stuff for making you wander, this Waards). Weeds seen orf today, don't y' know:

Yer garlic patch

Yer onion patch

Yer blackberry patch, and

Yer raspberroonie patch.

Only one of them proved photogenic so here's the garlic patch, newly weeded and pristine, with a quick glimpse of AlcaBrassica behind.

And here's a bluebell looking very Young At Heart, we're so Yo-ung at Heart.

Very pleased with the blackberries, which are sending out new shoots like they mean it, much ahead of where they were last year. Perhaps piling manure around their rootstock really does work? Perhaps they're trying to get away from it? I would if you piled manure around my rootstock.

And the raspberoonies; what about the raspberoonies, eh? Thought dead, no signs of life, nailed to perch, choir invisibule etc. But no, 19 of the 20 have rooted and are putting forth new growth. Well pleased about this because the last attempt was an unmitigated failure.

And finally, the grapevine looks as though bud break is imminent. The buds are huge and furry and look truly fecund. Fecund, I tell you, Fecund. Pictures next time.

Heading North, not South

I should, as I type this, be on a ferry in the middle of the North Sea, en route to Denmark to start the first leg of Short Way Round, my motorcycle trip round the edge of Europe from the very top of Denmark to Istanbul and beyond. For all you know, I may be on that ferry. But I’m not, I’m at home. Short Way Round is postponed, in favour of an equally big adventure on a different continent.

Those of you with long memories may recall me banging on about my Winston Churchill Travelling Fellowship in 2001, following in the footsteps of David Douglas (Google him), botanist and plant collector (1799-1834). This adventure is to do some unfinished business from my Fellowship and start an entirely new project.

Context first. In 1827 Douglas set off from Fort Vancouver on the Columbia River in the Pacific Northwest with the voyageurs of the Hudson’s Bay Company to travel east across the continent. Their destination was York Factory, the HBC’s eastern supply base for the fur trade in the Canadian sub-arctic, from which Douglas was to sail on an HBC ship back to England. They made it, walking and birch-bark canoeing. D caught the ship and made it safe home for further adventures before a gory end on Hawaii in 1834 (I’ve stood where he died and at his grave in Honolulu).

York Factory is still there (Google it) and almost as hard to access now as in 1827. There’s no road or rail link; there’s no electricity and no food, apart from what you bring in. But I’m going there in the summer, with two colleagues (one from Scotland and one from Oregon) to start filming a television documentary on Douglas.

None of us have been to York Factory before; indeed it only gets about 70 visitors a year. Only being open for 3 months of the year, frozen tight the rest of the year and at risk of polar bear attack may have something to do with that of course! It’s only about 60 miles south of Churchill, where the bears congregate in the town waiting for the sea to freeze (it’s still frozen now).

The route runs something like, fly to Winnipeg, fly further north in a smaller plane, get a Greyhound bus for three hours on a gravel road to (literally) the end of the road. Then get an even smaller plane (5-seater, float plane I suspect) to fly to York Factory. Then do it all in reverse 3 days later.

And in due course there’ll be more filming to fill in more of the blanks of the Douglas story.

This is an opportunity which has been a long time coming and can’t be turned down. Short Way Round, on the other hand, can be done ‘later’. And it’s only postponed, not ‘off’. I’m really looking forward to this; can you guess?!!

Fort Brassica

At last planting has got under way, with cabbages (spring, round and red) and cauliflower. We love red cabbage. Monty Don describes it as being only slightly ahead of boiled rat in culinary acceptability, at least by his children. All I can say is they've never had any of ours, cooked with red wine, apple and marmalade. Yummy.

But growing brassicas round here is an iffy business on account of they pigeons, curse 'em. I've tried various half-baked approaches with dangling CDs to scare them off but I think they treat them as vanity mirrors; certainly doesn't scare them off. And I've nearly broken my neck innumerable times getting my feet tangled up in the netting I've carefully draped over the cabbages to keep pigey off. None of it is much good.

The best I've found so far is Fort Brassica, constructed from uprights of chicken wire, lovingly garnished with tatty old netting and tenderly enrobed with string. Let's see the beggars get through that.

Running low on blood sugar by the end of the afternoon and lacking the energy to construct a smaller version for the cauliflower plot, I cobbled together Mark 2. The observant among you will notice what were once wardrobe drawers from IKEA forming a key part of the construction.

Lest you think I idle my time away just pratting about with cabbages, chicken wire and string I should show you my other pride and joy. Just look at these mangetout; sown in a gutter at home (no, it wasn't attached to the house at the time, honestly, you do take this too seriously sometimes) and raised in the conservatory. Then simply slid into a wee trenchette and Bob is your father's brother. Still need plenty of anti-pigeon fortifications though.

I've also discovered another reader, just over the grapevine at the bottom. Good to speak to you today; hope all this makes sense.

And finally, longstanding readers of this blog may be wondering about a progress report on Woody's motorcycle adventure around Europe (working title Short Way Round). Tune in on Wednesday (30th) for an update. A bientot; tot siens!!

Crikey

Turn your back for a moment and you never know what will happen. In this case Ivan-on-the-next-plot has had a massive burst of enthusiastic hedge trimming and the hedge between us is now down to about 3 feet or less and very thin.

Hmm

Not sure what i think of this. It'll certainly be easier to keep tidy, once it's regrown a bit, but it compromises my privacy a bit and offers no security at all.

Hmm.

I'd like to have known he was going to do it too. Didn't necessarily want to be asked, in the sense of being asked for permission, but it would have been nice to be consulted, it being a joint hedge and all. Ah well, it's done now & not worth falling out over.

What else is new? The grapevine is now tied in to three posts and two strands of wire, ready for some growth this summer.

Chris, my on-plot neighbour has been very active and threatens to put me to shame. He now seems better established, having done lots of work over the winter.

And finally, I've now joined the plot association.

I've belatedly realised that they aren't just an association for plot holders but a shop, cheap garden stuff for the selling of but only between 10.30 & 12 on Sunday mornings. Still think they could be more proactive in marketing themselves to plotholders but no matter, I've joined now. Lots of amusement from Wilma Wilbury, who sees this as a sign that I'll soon be growing chrymanthesums and wearing a cardigan. Pah.

Really love that Lovage

Gnome asked for a feature on Lovage, after my comment about it waking up from the winter and heading for a Lovage hedge this year.

Herewith, from a combination of Wikipedia & my experience of it. Lovage (Levisticum officinale) - well, you didn't expect a former botanist not to give you the full name did you? - is dead easy to grow and once you've got it it'll take a JCB to get rid of it. But why would you want to get rid of it? It has a lovely flavour, akin to celery which it vaguely resembles, and the leaves and seeds are used to flavor food, especially in South European cuisine. It is a tall (3 to 9 ft) perennial , hence the reference to a Lovage hedge. It looks pretty impenetrable when in full flow but is quite soft really and dies back completely in the autumn so is no use at all as a 'real' hedge. Lovage also sometimes gets referred to as smallage, but anything less appropriate is hard to imagine. Mine was grown from seed last year and I confidently expect it to get to at least four feet this year. Here it is now:

Lovage is considered to be a "magic bullet" companion plant; much as borage helps protect almost all plants from pests, so lovage is thought to improve the health of almost all plants. In Germany and Holland, one of the common names of Lovage is Maggikraut (German) or Maggiplant (Dutch) because the plant's taste is reminiscent of Maggi soup seasoning. Or could this perhaps be a vice versa?? We use it a lot in Wilma Wilbury's damn fine fish stew.

Finally, Lovage tea can be applied to wounds as an antiseptic, or drunk to stimulate digestion.

There you are then; all the news that's fit to print about Lovage. I particularly liked Maggikraut; I think I met her once.

The Oldest Spade?

How old can a spade be and still be in use?

If you kept it clean after every session and gave the shaft (assume it’s wooden) some linseed oil, say, once a year, how long would it last?

I’d have thought 100 years was quite feasible. 200? More? Would the blade wear out before the shaft?

Comments, answers and examples please.

And let’s not have any “Grandfather’s axe” answers!!

You’re not familiar with Grandfather’s axe?

“This is a really good axe. It used to be my Grandfather’s. Mind you, I had to put a new head on it last year, and it’s had a couple of new shafts too.”

Surprise, Surprise

I’ve started clearing the neglected area at the bottom of the plot, which was piled high with old rotting wood. But when I moved that some foundations began to emerge. Clearing those with the gardener’s best friend – the pickaxe - the foundations of a large greenhouse appeared.

It spans most of the width of the plot, with a central stone path and two brick-edged beds either side. I sense a restoration project coming on for the winter!

And rooted in one corner I discovered a grapevine. It’s very neglected and tangled

but it is unmistakably a grapevine. It’s a bit late for pruning so I’m just going to bang a couple of posts in, stretch wire between them, tie it in and see what happens. Perhaps give it a bit of manure to feed it too. Exciting or what?

I've also banged three Bishops in. Bishop of Llandaff dahlias, that is.

Love that Lovage

The lovage is back after its winter sleep. I love lovage and I’ve got three plants, grown from seed last year, which will make a lovage hedge this year.

Elsewhere, it’s been “get the onions in” day. Five rows altogether, with 3 of Stuttgart Giant (150), one of Red Baron (50) and one of Shallots (just shallots!). It was lovely work as the ground was so soft from yesterday’s rain, and now it has rained again so they’ll be nicely bedded in and soaked. Just perfect for a good start.

And it’s interesting to look around at all the other allotments and reflect on how they have changed since I took this one. At that time mine was waist high grass and 4 metre high hedges. The plots left and right were derelict as were the two plots immediately downhill of mine. Now every one of them is taken and being cultivated. Some have further to go than others but all are unrecognisable from how they were four years ago. Another which was seriously derelict a few plots along from me is being slowly but surely brought back to life; it had a working party there today concreting in fence posts for a gate. Hanging a gate, and fixing the shed (which they’ve also done), are sure signs that you’re there to stay.

I’ve thought for some time that allotments are like pig farms – always boom or bust. You can turn a pig farm around very quickly because they breed quickly and have big litters, so you can start from not much and have a lot of pigs quite quickly. But that depresses the price so you then go bust. Allotments are a bit like that. Their moment comes, lots of people take them, then realise how much hard work they are and fall away again.

But at the moment allotments seem to be definitely on the up. Long may it continue.