Gardening With Dogs and Chatting With Chickens

Chickens have been part of my gardening life for a few years now. They follow me around, listen to my ramblings, and rarely disagree with anything I say. They are an absolute joy! One morning when I was giving the chickens their daily weather update, I became aware that I was being watched. I turned to discover a mother and child scurrying away with unseemly haste from the scary chicken lady. Happily it hasn't put me off chatting to my chickens. They are mighty fine listeners - and it has nothing to do with the corn in my pocket.

Our dog is a ready listener too, although the kids insist that it is cupboard love. Unlike the chickens, he talks back to me because in the age-old tradition of dog parents, I have given him a voice. To the uninitiated it might sound as if I am talking to myself, but it is simple enough to work out who is speaking as the dog adds 'mum' onto the end of every sentence, because obviously I am the dog's mother and not the other way around. 

Gardening is just one of the many topics of conversation we have covered since Basil joined our family earlier this year. We share certain interests in the garden. We both like to dig, for example. The only difference between us is that I like to dig holes to pop plants in; he likes to dig holes to get those plants out again.

Basil and I are united in our love of lying on grass, but you won't see either of us for dust on mowing day. Basil is so anti-mowing that he has taken steps to hamper any attempt at grass cutting by storing his extensive collection of treasures on the lawn. 

We both deadhead flowers, although he doesn't think that it is necessary to wait until the flowers have bloomed; and his fondness for harvesting entire tomato crops irrespective of whether or not the fruit is ripe, is legendary. But the one thing he loves most is to see the garden filled with… well, filling.

He is adept at tidying up sticks. Sometimes those sticks might have fallen from a tree, although more frequently they are actually entire hedging plants which have been uprooted and taken for a few laps of honour around the garden before being filed away in his collection of treasures on the lawn. 

When I am planting I can always rely on him to pick up any empty plant pots. If he should stumble upon a pot containing a plant, he will remain unfazed and dispose of the plant and the pot together. He even saved me the effort of tidying away my pink gardening clogs by rendering them unwearable. What a thoughtful boy!  

Our garden was once a farmyard and the soil is very stony. Basil is a hero when it comes to digging out stones. He will never let a plant stand between him and his one-dog mission to improve the soil and create stoneless borders.

When it comes to training shrubs, he takes hard pruning to a whole new level. Here is what was left of a standard rose after it had been 'Basiled'. Admittedly it's not the cleanest cut I have ever seen.

If I’m honest, I would prefer Basil to be a little less boisterous in my borders, but he is still young. It’s his first birthday this week. I am looking forward to the day when Basil is happy to relax on the lawn and watch me nurture the plants he so energetically uprooted during puppyhood. In the meantime, we will celebrate his birthday in style by planting and removing a new hedge together. He’s really looking forward to it… or so he tells me.

Perennial Basil

Hilarius, the French physician, claimed that sniffing basil had led to a scorpion breeding in the brain of an acquaintance. I don't know about you, but I have buried my nose into the King of Herbs on many occasions and have never, as yet, noticed scorpions in my brain, breeding, or otherwise. 

My passion for growing basil began in London where an Italian neighbour's garden was the source of a bountiful supply of fresh, juicy, sun-ripened tomatoes and delicious basil. He gave me my first basil plant and I quickly became hooked on growing culinary herbs. The thrill of harvesting fresh herbs never diminishes. I keep the plants close to the kitchen door so that I can grab a handful without bothering to put on my shoes. I also grow lettuce and tomatoes there in the hope that I might reach for salad instead of a chocolate bar (there is more chance of basil inducing brain-breeding scorpions). 

The Salad Bar (sadly, the chocolate bar is no longer with us)

Greeks and Romans would curse when they sowed basil seeds as they believed that it helped germination. When seeds stick to my hands rather than depositing themselves onto the compost, I call them names. It is hardly in the same league as a jolly good curse, so I have to take other precautions, such as sowing into modules, which does much to prevent death from damping off. I supplement home-sown insulted seeds with plant purchases if I see one which tickles my fancy. There are so many to choose from: cinnamon, lemon, lime, sweet or spice, Thai, Greek, Marseillais and Neopolitana, not forgetting the sumptuous purples, which may or may not be ruffled.

Spot the purple basil purchase

The key requirements of basil are warmth and well-drained, rich soil. I grow the plants in containers placed in sheltered corners which receive midday sun. Basil can be given to sulking if it goes to bed with wet feet, which is perfectly understandable (I don't like my feet to be cold, let alone wet), so water basil by noon.

One of my ongoing gardening challenges is to keep the kitchen supplied with fresh herbs over winter. Some, such as rosemary, are a doddle, but others, basil among them, are trickier, especially without a greenhouse. The solution might be 'African Blue' basil (Ocimum 'African Blue'), a half hardy perennial which is sterile. Since it doesn’t go to seed, I guess that it will not have that irritating habit of ceasing leaf production every time it sends up a flower stem, which is as well because the flowers are beautiful and delicious (I nibbled a few after I took the photos). 

Ocimum 'African Blue'

While 'African Blue' certainly tastes of basil, it does not have quite the same flavour as the more commonly grown annuals. It does, however, have the distinct advantage of being perennial, so it may very well supply me with leaves earlier than the annual forms if I get it into my sunny office before the first frosts. Imagine how much basil I will be sniffing at my desk! If the perennial basil experiment works and Hilarius was right, we may very well be facing a massive UK scorpion infestation in 2017. It will make a change from slugs.

Going Off-Liste In The RHS Halls

February is the month when gardeners dust off their winter torpors, cast aside coffee-stained catalogues, grab their most capacious shopping bags and venture intrepidly beyond the garden gate to attend the Royal Horticultural Society’s first show of the year.

Carefully compiled shopping lists in specially selected gardening notebooks and hastily scribbled notes on the backs of envelopes are soon jettisoned in favour of a new must-have plant or garden item. It is difficult to ascertain quite what causes such retail fervour. Perhaps it is the heady scent of spring blooms, the choice plants whispering "buy me" (please don't pretend that you have never heard a plant speak) and the sudden splashes of colour which render the lists futile. I have never skied off-piste, not least because I am too scared, but when it comes to challenging pursuits such as shopping, I fearlessly venture off-liste on a regular basis. Going off-liste is a gardener’s folly and prerogative and if you can’t go off-liste at the first show of the season, then when can you? 

With all the floriferous wonder of spring filling the halls, you might imagine that I was to be seen dragging several laundry bagloads of stunners back to Norfolk; but no! My retail therapy was dramatically curtailed by Basil (the puppy, not the plant), who had travelled to London with me, although not the show (perish the thought). Since Basil is hardly pocket-sized, my shopping had to be, so I turned my back on scented Pelargonium and Pulmonaria to die for, in favour of tubers. I have enjoyed growing oca and yacon for a while now*, so I was delighted to stumble upon ulluco and mashua at the show. The ulluco tubers are pretty enough and I am excited about trying them, but they are hardly going to win the snowdrop beauty parade.

Ulluco

Oh to be a galanthophile in the wintertime! Imagine wandering into the RHS halls and coming face-to-face with the snowdrop of your dreams. I save myself a lot of heartache in the Galanthus department by examining all the price tags before looking at the snowdrops and then thinking (although not necessarily believing) that I will get as much pleasure from a glorious sunlit swathe of good old Galanthus nivalis as I will from a single, cherished, eye-wateringly expensive one. Of course, it would be lovely to have the opportunity to test this theory, so if I should ever find myself in possession of the winning lottery ticket, we can forget yachts and jets; I shall have rare snowdrops.

Gardening can be a solitary activity. This is part of its attraction for some. Time alone in the great outdoors is a pleasure to be cherished, but so is the sense of community we can find at allotments, horticultural societies, the internet, plant fairs and garden shows. If you have never been to a show or a plant fair, why not visit one near you this year? Please ensure that you take the time to compose an extensive wish list prior to your arrival at the venue. After all, if you don't know what you are supposed to be buying, how can you fully experience the guilt and joy of going off-liste?

*http://www.thegardeningshoe.blogspot.co.uk/search/label/Yacon#!http://thegardeningshoe.blogspot.com/2013/10/kitchen-garden-multitaskers.html

Details about The RHS Shows may be found here: https://www.rhs.org.uk/shows-events

New Introductions

Introducing new plants into a garden is always exciting. Sometimes the impact can outweigh the outlay because we plan and use our additional plants carefully. We might create a new focal point; add lemon flowers to lift a blue and white scheme; or increase coherence by repeating the same plant or form at intervals throughout our borders. It would be wonderful to post about a new, improved planting scheme today, but my garden is suffering from a surfeit of new introductions at the moment; and although I am very happy with them all, they are not exactly making my borders look any fuller, more beautiful or bountiful. 

RIP Herby Chicken

The first new introductions of 2016 were additional hens. Herby chicken died a few weeks ago and since a solitary chicken is such a sorry sight, I got Hippy Chick some new friends in the form of the cluckiest blue chickens in Norfolk 

(Iris and Hyacinth), and a sweet little Russian Orloff called Voddy. 

The hens had all settled in wonderfully well until I introduced a puppy called Basil into the mix yesterday. Iris and Hyacinth secured their position as top guard hens by marking his arrival with a deafening fanfare of clucking. Measures are already in place to reconcile Basil with the girls; and I am reconciling myself to more chaos than I might wish for in the Barn Garden. An eight-week-old puppy and three new chickens is not a combination famed for its positive impact on lawns and borders, but this doesn’t matter; it is a joy and a privilege to take care of animals, be they pets or wildlife. 

This is why I am not too upset about the state of Iris reticulata 'Blue Note'. I had been looking forward to a spectacular display of these beautiful flowers in the Barn Garden this year, but many of the stems have been scattered hither and thither by the hens' over-exuberant scratching. It is a small price to pay for seeing the girls happily settled in their new home. 

Wild birds have started to help themselves to our garden fare at last; I hope that they are late because there has been plenty on offer in the surrounding countryside. Plump Pyracantha berries have persisted through most of January, but they are now being eaten. I know many gardeners view Pyracantha as a mundane plant, but I could not disagree more. Not only does Pyracantha add wildlife value, with nectar-laden flowers for pollinators, juicy winter berries for birds and year-round cover, it makes a wonderful addition to more formal planting when clipped as an espalier, or trained into a grid pattern. I think it is one of the most under-appreciated plants in our gardens.

The arrival of February heralds a period of deepening envy as I read about other gardeners sowing seeds under cover. I allow myself to sow a few flower seeds which will cope with life in the cold frame as they grow, but without a greenhouse, it makes sense to wait until spring to sow many edibles. Doing nothing is incredibly hard work, but it is better than the alternative (cucumber kitchen curtains linger long in the memory*). I am optimistic that I will be so busy with Basil that I might sail through the big wait to sow this year. Here he is on his first morning with us, busily practising the important life skill of helping gardeners tidy up after themselves. This will come in useful when I introduce new plants into the borders. I shall remain optimistic regarding the length of time these new introductions will remain in the soil... there are only so many plants a puppy and a few hens can dig up, surely? 

* The great cucumber curtain fiasco: http://thegardeningshoe.blogspot.co.uk/2012/11/kitchen-gardens-and-garden-kitchens.html