Gardening on a Victorian dump site

My Cripley Meadow allotment is located on wasteland that was once a Victorian dump site. It has been used for allotments since 1891, and an environmental assessment was done in 1997, indicating that although there were slightly elevated levels of heavy metal in the soil, the site was safe for allotments. The scientists had spoken, and that was good enough for us.

Obviously that is not quite good enough for some people - on several occasions I have encountered horrified looks from people, even when I share the advice we were given:

• wash hands after working on allotments
• take care not to accidentally ingest soil
• thoroughly wash and peel any produce
• do not take young children to play there where they might eat the soil
• pregnant women should probalby avoid eating root crops grown on the allotment 

When people ask if I am concerned, I point out that I am neither a small child, nor am I pregnant. And I certainly am not in the habit of eating soil.

I also note that I regularly ate fish while living in Central Asia, against Peace Corps advice. So I've probably already accumulated enough mercury to look forward to Alzheimer's in my old age. Besides which, my family has a history of dementia, so my genes are already against me. I figure a few slightly tainted vegetables aren't going to have much of an impact. And I don't use pesticides, so in general my fruit and veg are probably safer, if less unblemished, than supermarket produce.

But this kind of oversensitivity might explain why there are always plots available at the allotment.  

The Victorians were fantastic recyclers, and after all these years there isn't likely to be much left in the soil. But we do occasionally dig up bits and pieces of trash - animal bones, rusty keys, pottery shards, and best of all, glass bottle tops.

I have found two so far - a green stopper topped with a crown and a pale blue marble stopper. And thanks to google, I've been able to indentify both of them!

Victorian glass bottle tops

The pale blue marble is from a Codd-neck bottle, designed and patented in 1872 by British soft drink maker Hiram Codd of Camberwell, London. And the green one is from a Crown Perfumery bottle, launched in 1872 in London by William S. (Sparks) Thompson, an American industrialist from Connecticut.

I've added the green top to my small collection of green glass. I'm not much of a collector (other than of yarn!) because after initial enthusiasm I tend to lose focus. But maybe I should try to aquire a full Crown Perfumery bottle to add to my Blenko water bottle, Wedgewood candlestick, and mini-vase from Galeries Lafayette.

Green glass collection

I've put together a pinterest board with a few other ideas for green glass collectibles.

Follow Mikal's board Green glass on Pinterest.

Branching out from knitting

Spring has fully sprung (although the temperatures have not risen as high as we would like), and I've been branching out from my sendentary winter pursuits (consisting primarily of knitting, knitting and more knitting). Now that the incessant rains of the past winter have mostly stopped, I've been able to pick up my spring and summer pursuits, namely running and gardening.

Running

I've been training to run in the Oxford Town and Gown, a 10k race raising money for muscular dystrophy.

This will be my first 10k - I trained for the Great Scottish Run in Glasgow last October, but wasn't able to participate due to travel plans. I was in pretty good shape last autumn, but I tend to lose motivation over winter. I didn't start running again until March (when the daily rains finally cleared up), and have only managed relatively short runs once or twice a week. So I'm not expecting to make very good time, but I might just be able to run the whole race, albeit very slowly.

I don't particularly like doing these sorts of fund raising activities, because I think it is more efficient for people to pick a charity and donate by monthly direct debit. But training for organised runs is the best way to motivate myself to exercise, so I reluctantly join in. If anyone feels compelled to donate, please visit my team's page. Go team COMPAS!

Gardening

My allotment was completely under water, not once, but twice this winter.

Sadly, I lost a whole bed of cabbage and kale, and my herb bed was mostly decimated, as was the rhubarb. Fortunately the asparagus survived, and we enjoyed our first three stalks the other day. You are not supposed to harvest from new plants for several years, and I had to replenish the bed with new plants every year because they kept dying off, so unless we stay on in Oxford another year, we won't be able enjoy any more. Let's just hope whoever inherits my allotment likes asparagus.

The best asapargus I have ever tasted!

For the past few years our vegetable harvests have been relatively poor, due to winter floods and summer droughts. So I have learned to lower my expectations, and don't have very high hopes for this year. Instead of spending a lot of money on plants that might not produce much of anything, I decided to use up random seeds left over from last year. I've managed to sprout some tomatoes, cucumbers and delicata squash on a sunny window.

The garden itself is mostly just growing weeds. I'm going to try to put in some serious gardening time over the upcoming May Day bank holiday weekend. And maybe also fit in a long run. I've discovered that gardening is a great way to stretch out the tight muscles I'm getting from running!

The mighty beet

The heritage beets I planted this spring are not quite ready to harvest, but the swiss chard, one of the garden stalwarts in the beet family, is already flourishing.

patch of swiss chard with beets in background

Swiss chard - essentially beets without the root, also known as leaf beet - has been a consistent success in my garden. Potatoes and tomatoes may be shriveled by blight, the beans attacked by black fly, and the cabbage devastated by all and sundry, but the lowly beet carries on. I don't know why none of the pests like it, but I'm not complaining.

I adore swiss chard. It has a slightly bitter, salty flavour, and when stir fried to perfection in olive oil takes on a soft silky texture. The leaves are also beautiful, coming in a range of colours from bright to deep greens, with stalks of white, yellow, orange, pink and red.

The coloured chard is known as bright lights.
I'm also growing a large variety called silverbeet

Just the other day I planted some perpetual spinach, which I immediately recognised as belonging to the beet family by the distinctive knobbly texture of the seeds. With all the varieties I have planted, beets should be feeding me deep into winter.

My favourite recipe for leaf beets is bacon and swiss chard pasta.

I chop the stems and start them cooking a few minutes after the red onion. Then after about five minutes I add the leaves.

My secret ingredient is the balsamic vinegar. I use a decadently expensive brand - I guarantee if you tasted it you too could not possibly go back to the usual weak and watery stuff.

The sweetness of the balsamic vinegar blends perfectly with the saltiness of the bacon and swiss chard, creating a simple, hearty, healthy and beautiful meal.

Bon appétit!

Summer garden predator invasion

Summer has arrived, even though the weather doesn't necessarily feel like it. At least we have had a reasonable mix of sun and rain for the young, growing plants. Now that most of the vegetables have been planted (apart from the winter brassicas, which I'll plant in August), I should be able to relax and enjoy the garden, right? Unfortunately, no. The sun and rain have also been good for the weeds, and with the arrival of young tender vegetables comes the arrival of pests. Now is the time to develop a plan of attack to deal with the predator invasion!

I have allowed a couple of my mystery weeds to grow, figuring a larger plant would be easier to identify than a few sprouts.

But this turned out to be not entirely necessary, because I'm almost certain that I found my mystery weed in France, where it was already in glorious flower. Proving once again that weeds can be perfectly nice plants, just as long as they are not in my garden.

However, I still haven't tracked down the name. Can anyone help?

I usually manage to keep the weeds out of in the beds, but the weeds and grass on the paths and borders have reached such profusion, I've almost given up pulling out all but the most insidious. Just as long as I keep the height down I'm happy enough. While trimming the growth around the beds, I discovered traces of another pest. Someone has been stealing strawberries and hiding them for later!

This annoys me more than outright theft. I don't mind sharing my strawberries - I haven't even bothered to cover them with netting because from past experience I know the slapdash fortresses I build are too easily penetrated - but hiding the berries instead of eating them is just wasteful. They won't last in the grass, and the only ones who profit are the slugs. And I don't even know if slugs LIKE strawberries!

Another perennial garden pest is black fly, which right on schedule have started infesting my broad beans. I also noticed the rose bushes are covered with aphids, and the artichokes are starting to gather a smattering as well. In the past I have tried to regularly spray with a soapy water solution, with limited success.

This year I succumbed to Marshall's Seeds' timely email marketing, and ordered a pressure sprayer with FREE fruit and veg plant rescue and bug killer. Yes, my plants are under attack, and I'm in a killing mood!

At least my crop of potatoes seem to be healthy and pest free... so far.

Gardens in Normandy: Château de Brécy

My husband is an historian specialising in the Norman bishops, so we often travel in Normandy. Over the years we have visited most of the abbeys and cathedrals in the region, so on our most recent visit I insisted that we try something new - namely châteaus and gardens. And since most châteaus also contain gardens, you often get both for the price of one.

We decided to start by exploring the Château de Brécy, halfway between Caen and Bayeux. This is a private residence and garden, only open in the afternoons. The interior of the château is not open to visitors, but the exterior is an integral part of the garden vista.

The château and garden are said to have been designed in the late 17th century, and the garden is one of the few of this period left in France. Over time the garden fell into disrepair, but was restored in the early 1990s.

The garden contains a mixture of topiary, flowers, fruits and vegetables. Early June was probably not the best time to visit as the plants seemed to be between seasons - we had just missed the spring flowering, but summer had not quite arrived. Neverthless, it was well worth the visit, including the pleasant drive through lovely countryside to reach it.

When you arrive you are greeted by a magnificent gateway and a statue of a unique mythological animal - part deer, part bird, with the head of a rabbit turning back and forth.

The first garden level at the back of the château presents a parterre de broiderie - or "embroidered" hedges.

The rest of the garden rises in a series of terrasses. The second level is lined with a tree arbour, perfect for strolling out of the summer sun.

The next level, the largest, contained vegetable, fruit and flower beds, and also a water fountain in the form of a basket of arthicokes.

poppies like crushed silk

taking a break among the raspberries

The view from the top of the garden offers the orderly perspective of château, paths and topiary.

And then when you turn around, you get the best view of all, looking up the hill on to a grand perspective of infinity.

100 favourite things for my 100th blog post

Hard to believe that I have actually reached my 100th blog post. I never imagined I would keep this up for so long. I'm surprised I had the stamina.

But one thing I never lack is things to talk about. So in honour of my 100th blog post I decided to put together a list of 100 of my favourite things.

Adriaen Coorte Asparagus

Ale
Anchovies
Artichokes
Asparagus
Aveda

Bande dessinée
Samuel Beckett
Belgian chocolate
Belgian beer
Belleville Rendez-Vous (film by Sylvain Chomet)
Bicycles
Bitte Kai Rand
Roberto Bolaño

Cats
Camels
Carpets
Celadon
Central Asia
Chartreuse

gardening at the allotment

Danskos
Deserts
Dogwood

Endive
The Etruscans
Eurostar

Fiat 500
France
Frogs

Gardening
Grapefruit
Green amber
The Green Ray (film by Éric Rohmer)

Habu Textiles
Handel’s Messiah
Hats
Holst Garn

Iris in the Jardin des plantes, Paris

Ice cream
Iris

Le Jacquard Français
Japan

Kindle
Knitting

Linen
Longchamp
Luxembourg Garden

Mauviel
Herman Melville
Metro
China Mieville
Mont Saint Michel
Museums
Mustard

Navy blue
New York
The New Yorker
The New York Review of Books

Olive
Oreos

Paris
Paleolithic art
Père Lachaise Cemetery
Pickles
Pistachios
Playtime (film by Jacques Tati)
Pomegranate
Pork
Princess Mononoke (film by Hayao Miyazaki)
Pumpkins

Quilts

Ravelry
Rhubarb
Rome
Rouen

A Matter of Time, Frank Serra, Bilbao Guggenheim

Sauternes
St Pancras station
Scandinavian design
Seinfeld
Frank Serra
Shawls
John Singer Sargent
Snakes
Spain
Stalker (film by Andrei Tarkovsky)

The Tale of Mr Jeremy Fisher
Teal
Textiles
Tintin
Trains
Traveling
Tulips
Turkey

UK
USA

Van Gogh

Tom Waits
The Wire
Wonkette

Xinjiang

Margeurite Yourcenar

Zombie films

Time to start weeding

After a long spell of very cold weather, spring finally arrived in the middle of April. The warmer weather and sunny days mean I have finally managed to get down to the garden. I'm busily putting all those seeds I bought in Paris into the ground.

4 out of 6 beds sowed, potatoes in the foreground

The busyness doesn't end once everything is planted, because in the meantime the weeds are growing faster than the vegetables. It is already time to get down to my main gardening activity - weeding.

Gardening means killing things

Sadly, gardening seems to be more about killing things than growing them. Growing vegetables to eat is a constant battle against pests that also want to eat them and weeds that want to replace them.

When I first got my plot three years ago it was completely overrun with weeds. The old gentleman I inherited it from had tried to control the weeds - primarily ground elder - by covering the borders with wood chips, black plastic and in some places even sheets of glass!

Given the state the garden was in, I decided that this method of control was futile. I was encouraged to use the scorched earth approach, and liberally sprayed glysophate everywhere. Fortunately our allotment is located on an old Victorian dump site, so no one is precious about chemicals.

After killing off the ground elder, I enlisted the help of my husband to dig up the ground where the weeds had been growing. I then sifted through the soil and pulled out as many roots as possible - at least three compost bags full.

bags full of weeds and shards of glass.

Seed weeds and root weeds

I categorise weeds by how they spread - either by seeds or by spreading roots, called rhizomes. I don't worry too much about seed weeds - they are relatively easy to pull out when they are young. Root weeds like ground elder are another story. Even the smallest portion of root left in the soil can sprout again, hence the need to dig them all out. I wasn't entirely successful in removing all the ground elder roots, but at least I was able to minimise the problem - and now I can individually dig out any plants that appear.

The ground elder was confined to the borders, but there was another mysterious root weed* invading the beds. I bought a long weeding tool and assiduously dug out the monstrously long roots whenever they appeared, like kraken rising from the deep. The first year was the worst, but my vigilance has reduced these horrible weeds to only a few appearances in each bed.

The kraken weed with innocuous looking leaves and hideously long roots

Year of the dandelion

The funny thing about weeds is that the same ones are never a problem from year to year. Once you manage to almost eradicate one through obsessive weeding, the next year a new one takes over.

This might be the year the dandelion becomes my enemy. Although a seed weed, dandelions can be difficult to dig out if they hunker down and hide in thick grass. You have to wait until they reveal themselves with their cheerful, bright yellow flowers, and then you can swoop down and pry them out.

I removed every single dandelion flower from my plot yesterday, filling two buckets full (I defy you to find one dandelion in the image above!). I didn't have the energy to dig up every plant, but I got rid of the flowers and most of the buds. I'll be keeping a gimlet eye on them from now on.

The flowers go to seed once they are picked, so must be disposed of carefully!

* The roots of my mystery weed are similar to ground elder, but they seem to go down much deeper, and the leaf is smooth-edged rather than frilled. If anyone can help me identify this weed I would be most appreciative!

Time to start gardening

Here it is, already April, and I haven't started gardening yet! Actually, I take that back - I did start a few pumpkins on the windowsill. But I haven't been down to my allotment in at least a month. The weather has just been too cold and dreary to even bother.

But now that it is April, it must surely start warming up soon. So, I am beginning to think about what I want to grow this year. I'm currently in Paris for a few weeks, so I can't actually get down to the allotment until the middle of April, but my gardening mojo finally started to come back after I found a fabulous vegetable print at a street flea market near Place d'Italie on Easter Monday.


Print by H. Demoulin. Sc

It is a colour plate from the Nouveau Larousse illustré, an illustrated encyclopedia published between 1897 and 1904. It is an interesting guide to the wide variety of vegetables available in France at the time. I noticed that the now ubiquitous courgette (zucchini in the US) is not present, though there are a number of other gourds in the cucurbita family, including the large French pumpkin in the middle, one that I always try to grow because it is the most delicious.

Inspired by my encyclopedia of vegetables, I went down to the Quai de la Mégisserie to visit the plant shops. Paris has not expelled these kinds of house and homeware shops to the suburbs, so you can still find everything you need right in the center of town.*

Streetside garden shop

I like to buy at least some of my seeds from France and the US, because I can find things that aren't readily available in the UK. This time I bought a pumpkin with white skin called Potiron blue de Hongrie. I also picked up some long beetroots, called betterave crapaudine - which coincidentally look exactly like the beetroot pictured in the encyclopedia (no. 19). Apparently it is an old variety of beet that is coming back in style.

Just goes to show, if you want to be à la mode - in both fashion and vegetables - you come to Paris.

(And if you want to see the other things I plan to grow on my allotment, visit my allotment gardening board on pinterest.)

*The pet shops are also located in this area - we always stop in and say hi to the cute (and overpriced) puppies and kittens. This is another thing you wouldn't find in the UK, where shops seem to have stopped selling cats and dogs altogether.

Winter blooms

We have been enjoying an unusually mild winter here in England this year. There was a brief cold snap in early December, but since then it has felt more like spring than winter.

When I go for my weekly run in the park I've noticed a lot of plants already in bloom. I hope the mild weather has not brought blooms out too early, because much colder temperatures are forecast for this coming weekend. But I think many of these plants are winter bloomers anyway, so they should be safe.

First we must start with the snowdrops (scientific name Galanthus), that ubiquitous early sign of an English spring.

Then, clustering thickly among the snowdrops, winter aconite (Eranthis).

Next, the shy and retiring Hellebore, or Christmas rose.

You are likely to overlook the tiny blooms of the Sarcococca hookeriana, or sweet box, but you'll be reminded of their presence by their heady scent, which follows you long after you've past the shrub.

Another sweetly scented shrub is the Viburnum x bodnantense - more delicately scented than the sweet box, but with unmissable pink blooms.

And then there are the winter cherry trees (Prunus x subhirtella 'Autumnalis'), providing a more delicate scattering of pink blossoms.

And finally, this unidentified shrub with clusters of small pink starry flowers, which I was unable to find on the internet - if anyone knows what it is, please let me know!

Gardening in the rain

This blog is supposed to be about gardening as well as knitting, but I haven't been writing much about my garden this year. Mostly because it has been an abysmal year for gardening - altogether too wet, cold and dark to spend time outdoors. In previous years we visited the garden at least five times a week during the spring and summer. This year, we went down once a week, if that.

We had a few successes, though not unmitigated - only half the pink fir apple potatoes I planted came up, but the ones that survived were very tasty. We only managed to grow a couple of pumpkins, but one was enormous and made a perfect Halloween jack-o'-lantern. And the cabbage escaped the dreaded cabbage flies (but not, alas, a slug infestation).

The cabbage are the only things that are still producing right now, but I don't know how long they will survive the latest weather onslaught - floods!

Allotment under water

Neighbors under water

Allotment on the corner has merged with the stream

And it is not just the allotments - lots of houses and roads in South Oxford are under threat of flooding as well (or already inundated with water).

Abingdon Road on Tuesday morning

It hasn't even been raining much in the past few days, but the water keeps rising. Oxford is bounded on both sides by rivers - the Isis (Thames) to the west and the Cherwell to the east, and all the waterways are full to overflowing.

Cherwell covering University Parks

I suppose I should be grateful that the flooding held off this long - at least most of the garden was already put to bed. Otherwise I might have been tempted to give up on gardening permanently!

On Growing Cabbages

The king of vegetables

I've been gardening on the allotment for three years now, and I've been relatively successful with most things I've grown - well, most things that can successfully be grown in England, that is. I've had very little success with aubergines, but I should probably just give up and accept that I don't live in Italy.

The one main exception is the brassicas. These include many of my favourite vegetables - broccoli, cauliflower, romanesco, kale, brussels sprouts. And then there are the Asian versions: bok choi, napa cabbage, choi sum, nabana. We are told these are superfoods: nutritious, high in dietary fiber, low in calories, and tasty to boot. Unfortunately, garden pests are all too aware of these benefits as well.

My first year I tried to grow bok choi. The plants were growing beautifully, and had reached about five inches in height, when I went down one day to find the row completely stripped bare. This was how I learned how essential netting is to prevent the wood pigeons from eating my cabbage down to the ground.

Veggie-related bunting at the allotment - the pigeons like peas as well

Once your cabbage are a bit larger and less tender, birds are no longer quite as interested. This is when you have to start looking out for smaller pests, including whitefly. These are tiny white moths that will infest the leaves and weaken the plants, retarding growth. I try to keep on top of them by spraying frequently with soap solution. I had a terrible time with them in previous years, but this year I haven't seen any. Maybe they don't like the rain.

Another pest that you have to watch out for is cabbage white butterflies. They lay their eggs on the underside of the cabbage leaves, and the developing caterpillar will munch its way through whole leaves. I haven't had as much trouble with these - possibly because the netting deters them to a certain extent. Any that get through, you just need to try to destroy the eggs and pick off the caterpillars.

Allotment gardening is a continuous learning process. My worst pest this year, flea beetles, didn't even show up until year 2. And now the garden is infested with them. They are tiny little black beetles that chew numerous holes in cabbage leaves, until it looks like lace. Naturally, this inhibits growth, but also makes the leaves dry, leathery, and pretty inedible. I haven't found a way to manage them, other than by covering the plants with cloches. If I spray them with soap solution they just seem to hop off the leaves and come back for more later.

Pesky flea beetles

And this year, because of the constant rain, we have been inundated with slugs and snails. I have given up on organic gardening and now scatter slug pellets with abandon. It is so satisfying to see the resultant exploded slugs. And although the manufacturers promise they do not attract other animals, I must confess I would not mind if I poisoned a few pigeons on the side!

Hate the slugs, but I have a soft spot for snails.

 
I usually sow my seeds out directly in the garden, because I only have a small greenhouse on my balcony which is reserved for especially delicate plants like tomatoes and gherkins. Cabbage are relatively hardy and can handle cooler temperatures. But if the pests get to them when they are tender seedlings they don't have much of a chance. I had such poor results in previous years I almost gave up - but I decided to make one final effort, and ordered seedlings in the post.

3 types of romanesco and 3 types of kale

I felt a bit of a cheat until I read in Tender, Nigel Slater's cooking and gardening book, that he does the same. If the professionals do it, why not me?

I cover the seedlings with half-bottle cloches until they outgrow them.

romanesco and kale planted out

And then cover with netting.

white cabbage and brussels sprout planted earlier in the year

In general it has been a terrible year for gardening, but so far it looks to be a good year for cabbage, so I'm glad I gave them one more chance. They are thriving with all the rain, and don't seem to mind the fact that light levels in June were more consistent with February.

And the best thing about cabbages - they'll be ready to eat in the middle of winter when gardening on the allotment (even in this poor excuse of a summer) is a distant, fond memory.