I’ve been off for a bit, from the garden that is. Don’t suppose I’m the only one either. I mean – ugh – just look at it out there. The cold, grey months of Winter are here, still hanging around like overstaying party guests who can’t take the hint. I’ve tried tapping my watch, breezily declaring “Oh is that the time already?” but apparently you can’t chivvy along the eternal cycle of the seasons by appealing to its sense of social embarrassment. Bit annoying.
So, from under a blanket, you peer outside. From my particular blanketside location in south Leicestershire, I offer you an endless greyscape of drizzle, sleet and murk. Snowfall so sudden it stoved in the coldframe roof. No? Then may I offer you a sludgy brownscape of heavy clay, lashed with punishing winds. Still not taken? Alright, just close the curtains, pretend it never happened, and have a mince pie and some sloe gin. After all, it is just gone 4 in the afternoon and it’s pitch black so there’s nothing to see anyway.
If you’re one of those people with an incredible memory, you might recall my last blog a few months ago about making sloe gin. This is the end result, bottled up and actually really quite good. Not too sweet, plummy and pleasantly warming, in case you’re wondering.
Anyway, I came across a quote I liked today: ‘All gardening is landscape painting’. Serial gardening and architectural 18th century overachiever William Kent said it. He’s the one who, amongst many other triumphs, designed Stowe Landscape Garden which isn’t that far from here and is just a little bit jaw dropping.
To contrast, our garden right now is not so much painterly and picturesque, more so The Scream.
The ground is boggy, full on welly-sucking clay. Plants, bare and brown. If you’ve ever had one of those paint colour charts from a DIY store, we’re in that muted and little visited section, a world away from the vibrant, partying, good time reds and yellows. You know the kind, where it’s not called ‘Battleship Grey’, it’s inexplicably something like ‘Stoat’s Whisper’ or ‘Sad Robin’.
Even the gloriously bright berries of the Pyracantha ‘Orange Glow’ which blazed around Christmas have been pecked clear by the birds (speaking of which, do feed the birds in winter – they will love you for it).
There is one redeeming plant though, happily. A stubbornly joyous clump of Winter Jasmine by the gate, which in an unusual feat of forwards planning, I’d pushed into the ground a few years ago exactly there where I would see it from the kitchen window during Winter. It radiates happiness and warmth, and it’s making me look ahead to the Spring.
Be gone, mince pies and murk. Even you, Sad Robin.
So, let’s plan and dream a bit of Spring. The garden, even if it doesn’t look like it right now, is actually pretty full of plants. It’s not dead really, just dormant, preserving life deep in roots ready for a rise in temperature.
Maybe, like me, you’re recently had a bunch of plant and seed catalogues plop through the door (it’s as if the marketing people are on to something, right?). There are some tempting things to be seen online too.
I am going to apply Restraint, Self-Control and a Strict Budget so have set a modest five-item limit. I’m still clicking around like a kid at a pick and mix counter, and am drawn to the hot colour groups:
- Berberis ‘Orange Sunrise’. Seriously, the foliage.
- Foxglove ‘Illumination Flame’ – raging pinks and oranges
- Rudbeckia ‘Goldsturm’ – acid yellow sunhats
Looks like I already have a couple of items already cached in the shopping basket from the last time I was daydreaming about sunshine. A blackcurrant (‘Big Ben’) and a redcurrant (‘Rovada’). Hang on though, a free set of strawberry plants with my order you say? Hmmn. Could be tempted.
- Is your garden looking better than mine? Share your tips and stories here, we’d love to hear all about them.
- Or maybe you’ve just come across a silly name for the colour of a tin of paint and want to share with the group. I know, we came for the gardening but let’s stay for the laughs. Go on, let’s hear it…
I’ve lived in various places from freezing flats in Manchester with just enough room to swing a pot rubber plant, to a Leicester semi which must have held some kind of local record for most concrete used in the garden. That took some digging out. Now living in Market Harborough with husband Matt and two young daughters. And a cat who shows up for mealtimes. Gardening neophyte, learning always.
The humble parsnip, a mainstay of the Sunday Roast has been cultivated since the Ancient Greek and Roman times. Long before Sugar Canes were harvested this tapered cylindrical cream coloured vegetable acted as a sweetener for foods. Originating in Eurasia (Europe and Asia) and closely related to both carrots and Parsley this root can be eaten in both its cooked and raw forms.
Measuring Scales.
Peel and Dice as many parsnips as it takes to measure 500g. If you have an electric steamer cook them until they are soft enough to mash around ten to twelve minutes. If you intend to boil the parsnips do not use salt as this recipe does not require salt.
Use a scone/pastry cutter to cut the scones and place them on the baking tray. Re-roll the leftovers until you have used all the dough.
Slice and fill with pickle/chutney and cheese.
In “The Office” I managed to keep the Yellow Suffer Tomato going until the second week of December before it finally succumbed to blight. I didn’t manage to put the amaranths seedlings into individual pots as I found it too cold for me, and with the nerve damage in my fingers I kept dropping things with my woolly gloves on. I tried thin gloves but once the cold was in my fingers I couldn’t do anything anyway. So now I’m at the stage of just checking the pots every few days and just giving the plants a tiny drink of water if the compost is mostly dry. I can’t risk watering them after 3pm in case there is a frost, but as they are still growing I can’t let them get stressed or dehydrated either – it’s harder than keeping them alive in the summer!
My Snow Princess Calendulas are getting far too big for their 3 inch pots, I didn’t put them in the Ty Mawr borders as I wanted to keep these separate from the yellow/orange ones, mainly because I want to see how they perform outside and to collect some seeds heads once they are spent. There is a tiny turnip that seems to be semi dormant, and a few tiny lavenders just freshly hatched from their pods. The violas are flowering like mad making the greenhouse smell divine. The Larkspurs are about 4 inches and the remaining cornflowers are about 6 inches high. There is still no sign of the grasses, or Liatris, Foxgloves, Red Hot Pokers or olive trees, there is however lots of little Heleniums popping up in the seed trays. Sadly the hyacinths didn’t come back, but I can still feel the corms so I’ll leave them for a bit longer. In the border of course are the house plants as well as Aloe Vera’s and money tree.
Back in the summer I won blogger of the month with “The Sentimental Gardener” and used the prize money/gift voucher to bag myself an 
