Triumphant Teasel and the Great Cheese Challenge

There are 700 named cheeses produced in Britain and I am on a mission to try them all. Fellow cheese fanciers will understand that the magnitude of this task might prevent a blogger from posting for a good few weeks. For those 
non-turophiles among you, my feeble excuse for posting absolutely nothing of late is that we moved into a house without a phone line. (Thankfully the property was fitted with a fully functioning fridge filled with cheese, so I used my time wisely).

Perfect conditions for a move

We awoke for the first time in our new home on Christmas Eve and although there is still plumbing* and door hanging to complete, we do at last have Wi-Fi, so I am back in the blogosphere and having a fascinating time catching up with your posts.

A home heaving with builders is hardly a relaxing place to hibernate with a laptop, so occasionally I feel obliged to peel myself away from the screen and work off my cheese hips in the garden. I refrain from tidying borders until spring as seed heads provide nutritious food for birds and once the seeds are gone, the husks and broken stems make excellent minibeast and ladybird sanctuaries. Consequently, at this time of year I focus my gardening efforts on that exhausting duo of calorie burners: staring at borders and compiling lists. 

My most recent border patrol had me reminiscing over the extraordinarily extended and valuable performance by Dipsacus fullonum (teasel). Although it is a plant we see growing naturally around the pond and in the paddocks, I use it in the farmhouse garden because of its significance for wildlife. It also happens to add structure to the borders for very little financial outlay and does a fabulous job of linking our garden with the countryside beyond. In summer, its nectar-rich flowers are much loved by bumble bees, hoverflies and butterflies. If you have never watched teasel come into bloom, you are missing a treat. The purple flowers open in a most intriguing order, demanding daily inspection (usually with a mug of coffee in hand) to see what is going to happen next. 

For all its fascinating unfurling, I love teasel most when it is going to seed. Glorious in the autumn sunshine, it raises its skinny teasel arms in triumph. 
Tah dah! Teasel, champion of the goldfinch seed chart and all-round good plant. Sow in spring and since teasel is a biennial, it will suppress weeds with its rosette of leaves for months on end and flower the following year, after which you will be able to marvel at your own triumphant teasel’s bulging biceps. 

* Many a true word is spoken in jest http://thegardeningshoe.blogspot.co.uk/2013/05/swishing-for-gardeners-and-garlic-bath.html

For more information about beautiful British Cheese, visit http://www.britishcheese.com

Balboa Park, Broadening the Mind and Bletting

I am languishing in that gloriously indulgent state of post-holiday torpor where everything needs doing and nothing gets done. This predicament is not helped by our medlar crop (all one of it) which catches the sunlight far more impressively than a stack of unopened post and entices me outside for a spot of medlar-gazing every time I am in danger of doing something useful.

Travel broadens the mind; or in my case, the mind and the waistline. Having eaten my way around sunny San Diego (with a few L.A. days thrown in for good measure), I have returned to icy Norfolk besotted with a vegetable I grow only because it is sown when I am raring to get outside and prod some seeds into the soil and it crops so quickly that I feel clever in the catch crop department. There has never been any great desire to actually eat it; until now. I refer, of course, to the potentially fiery and rather beautiful radish. Who could have imagined the transformation from compulsory (because we grew it... again) to desirable (we want to grow it again and again) achieved by showing these little beauties a pan? Next year I shall embrace the humble radish, elevate it out of the compost bin and place it proudly atop the pedestal of great veg (I only hope that my culinary skills are sufficient to fulfil this pledge). 

Calotropis gigantea - Balboa Park Botanical House

It would be a long way to travel solely to expand our experience of salad veg, but thankfully California has much more to offer than revelatory radish dishes. Seeing a creature for the first time is a significant event and despite the fact that the internet is brimming with pictures to download, I like to record these moments with my own camera. I would love to share one of my hummingbird photographs with you, but while I was adept at capturing the flower a hummingbird had just left, the hummingbird itself resembled a clod of clay with blurred fins attached. I now have profound respect for anyone who succeeds in photographing hummingbirds; give me a bumble bee any day of the week.

It was while on a visit to Balboa Park in San Diego that the unthinkable happened: I actually heard myself declaring that the botanical house was so beautiful that I wouldn’t mind if it contained no plants (I was clearly driven to distraction by my failure on the photography front). Happily, this building, which is one of the largest lath structures in the world, is home to a couple of thousand plants, so there was no risk of having to eat my words along with a side order of fries and a slab of Monterey Jack cheese. Away from the botanical house, the rose garden was a mass of colour. Roses bloom here from March to December and with 2,500 plants and almost 200 varieties which are clearly labelled, this is more than a great backdrop to wedding photos; it is also a fabulous resource when selecting roses to grow. The adjacent desert garden is impressive; but the extraordinary juxtaposition of the winter-flowering rose garden and the desert garden will live with me long after the holiday weight gain has been worked off (if indeed I ever get round to enough exercise to burn a single calorie). 

Cacti and succulents against a backdrop of roses

One of the joys of blogging is that, like travel, it can broaden the mind. I particularly enjoy reading about gardeners’ experiences of growing plants in different parts of the world and it is always fascinating to discover that a benign plant in my corner of England is a rampaging bully elsewhere on the planet. I was serenading a plant with superlatives in California when I was stopped mid-flow by a local, who explained that the object of my passion was the bane of his borders. A weed? How can anything as attractive as Asparagus densiflorus be dismissed as a weed? 

Asparagus densiflorus

Perhaps I should look more appreciatively at my own weeds as someone, somewhere might be envying those frothy clouds of ground elder flowers or the beautiful twining stems of bindweed. On the other hand, perhaps I should stop dreaming and start weeding. First though, I will pour myself another coffee and spend a few moments pondering bletting my solitary medlar.

Wordless Wednesday: How Can Anything This Much Fun Be Bad?

Kitchen Garden Multitaskers

What is your horticultural multitasking superhero? For me, it is the runner bean. It may not be the most fashionable or glamorous of plants, but it has an attractive twining stem; delicious pods; it makes a valuable contribution to structure in the border while taking up little space; it fixes nitrogen in the soil; and the flowers are hugely popular with bees. Could any plant ever match the multitasking capabilities of the mighty bean? Surprisingly, there are a few good-looking contenders in our kitchen garden this year.

Asparagus pea pod

I had been warned that I might struggle to spot the difference between asparagus peas and pencil sharpenings,* so any peas with sharp wings go straight into the compost bin and we eat only young pods. They are so delicious that they cause ructions at the table and I have been compelled to count pea pods onto plates. This painstaking act has triggered happy memories of my own childhood, when bowls of trifle were launched in turn onto kitchen scales to ensure that each of us had a fair share of pudding (I now applaud my mum's patience and in the interests of self-preservation, I never serve trifle). 

Asparagus peas

Asparagus peas (Lotus tetragonolobus) have exquisite foliage and the daintiest of flowers. These little plants would look perfectly at home in an ornamental border or a container. They are a visual feast and an edible delight. My only regret is that I didn’t grow more of them this year.

Yacon

Yacon (Smallanthus sonchifolius) has added a touch of the exotic to our plot this summer. Its broad, generous foliage is intriguingly veined and contrasts beautifully with the intricate shamrock-like leaves of oca (Oxalis tuberosa). This undemanding duo have a long growing season and while we wait eagerly for frost and our first excavations to see if there are any edible tubers, our garden will continue to benefit from their exceptional weed-suppressing capabilities, while I get to enjoy an occasional nibble on delicious apple flavoured oca leaves.

Oca

Another root crop with beautiful edible foliage is the sweet potato, Ipomoea batatas. Most of the plants are in the kitchen garden, but since we do not have a greenhouse, I concealed a few pots indoors and guess what? Sweet potatoes masquerade as houseplants so successfully that no one has mentioned past indoor crop misdemeanours such as the cucumber kitchen curtains fiasco (for which I am profoundly grateful).**

Sweet potatoes incognito

There may be another reason why no one is alluding to cucumbers. My children have long-ridiculed me over my hatred of cucumber skin. They think that peeling cucumbers is a ridiculous waste of time; or they did until this year, when I started growing a variety called ‘Marketmore’. This cucumber thrives outdoors; it is delicious; crops prolifically; and best of all, when harvested young, it has spikes! Even my most vociferous dissenters on the cucumber-peeling front have been forced to eat their words along with their sandwiches. ‘Marketmore’ might not be the prettiest plant on the patch, but by silencing my detractors, it has achieved something that beans can only dream of. 

*http://thegardeningshoe.blogspot.co.uk/2013_01_01_archive.html
**http://thegardeningshoe.blogspot.co.uk/2012_11_01_archive.html

F₁ Hybrid Gardening Contortionists

Gardeners are extraordinary hybrids of the here and hence. Our feet are firmly planted in the fine tilth of today, but our brains keep galloping off to the future. My body is currently in autumn (which sounds like a comment on my age rather than the season), but my mind has been bouncing around like a lamb in spring ever since the bulb catalogues started dropping through the letter box in July, which was, of course, when the rest of my body was luxuriating in mid-summer. 

It may sound improbable when we stand up, stiff-backed after a long weeding session, but gardeners are marvellous time-flexible contortionists with futuristic heads grafted onto gardening bodies (I am now getting an image of Sarah Raven rootstock with a scion of The Jetsons). This arrangement means that we have the capacity to escape from the more challenging aspects of any season. The very notion of winter without seed catalogues makes me shiver; but if my head is in high summer, cold weather becomes more bearable.

Last winter (the one which seemed to last forever), my mind was abuzz with autumn pollinators and as a result, butterflies and bees are now enjoying Asterfest in the farmhouse garden. I have been particularly impressed with Aster amellus 'Veilchenkönigin', which is short (around 35cm), stocky and a strong violet colour; but at the moment the pollinators seem to prefer Aster amellus 'King George'.

Small Tortoiseshell on Aster amellus 'King George'

Autumn is the season of butternut squash, brambling and bulb planting. I mention butternut squash since my fondness for it may shortly be put to the test. Unless there is a catastrophic squash meltdown, we will soon be harvesting 10 socking great fruits from three 'Sweetmax' plants grown from seed sown in March. It is the first time that I have grown this variety and if it tastes good, I shall certainly sow it next year (head in spring again). 

I am unable to work out whether I am becoming more clumsy in the garden or if my manners are improving with age, but I seem to be spending an increasing amount of time apologising to plants for accidentally deadheading perfectly good flowers, or digging up bulbs. Last week, while my mind was mulling over springtime sources of nectar and pollen, I inadvertently dragged a daffodil bulb from the soil. I don’t know who looked more shocked: me; the daff; or the passers-by who overheard me begging a bulb’s pardon. Once the daff was tucked safely back in bed, I scurried, red-faced, back to the house to add Crocus tommasinianus to my plant list. Come February, the lawn will be awash with purple; bees will be blanketed in pollen; and with any luck, my blushes may finally have faded.

The hedgerow fruits are looking resplendent in the autumn sunlight and as usual the plumpest, juiciest blackberries are just out of reach. This is no bad thing because they can be enjoyed by winged wildlife and my sense of guilt about gathering berries is assuaged. Recently, I have been leaving fruit on the lower branches too, as there have been several sightings in the farm hedgerows of a rare species which migrates from its natural habitat to feast on ripe blackberries. One of my proudest photographic achievements has been capturing two of these shy creatures on camera. 

Please remember that the Lesser Spotted Onesie Brambler hunts in packs and should only be disturbed if you are in possession of a fully prepared crumble topping and custard. 

Wordless Wednesday: This Is What A Guilty Chicken Looks Like...

The Great Escape.... Gardener Style

Is it any wonder that gardeners love visiting gardens? Other people’s plots provide us with inspiration, confidence boosters, tea, cake and shopping opportunities. We return home fizzing with ideas and cradling the must-have plants which leap into the trolley we unwittingly drag behind us whenever we enter a plant sales area.

The Exotic Garden at East Ruston Old Vicarage

We all have our favourite kind of garden. I particularly enjoy newer gardens because I like to return and see them as they mature. I have visited the garden at East Ruston Old Vicarage over many years and have delighted in watching it develop. On a recent tour I was intrigued to spot a patch of bare soil and an array of splendidly funky obelisks. A plot under construction is the gardening equivalent of a cliffhanger and one thing is certain: I will be back to see how these borders come along. 

There are exciting developments at Holkham Hall too, where the 6.5 acre walled garden is being renovated. This year, gardeners and volunteers have planted in the region of 5,500 plants which are already attracting plenty of pollinators. Holkham Walled Garden has a blog*, so even if you are unable to visit, do follow the progress of this ambitious project. 

Arena of Plants, Holkham Hall

Piet Oudolf's Millennium Garden at Pensthorpe underwent extensive work in 2009 to re-establish two-thirds of the garden and look at it now!

Arranged in large groups  - don't think threes; think thirty-somethings - this is high-impact planting for humans and wildlife alike. It is not the only garden at Pensthorpe;  Julie Toll's Wave Garden is a serene and tranquil space and the Wildlife Habitat Garden is a lesson in providing for the needs of butterflies, bees, dragonflies, damselflies, amphibians, reptiles, beetles and bats. 

Common Blue Butterfly at Pensthorpe

There is something reassuring about seeing other gardeners gardening. When I visited East Ruston, Alan Gray was planting Sedum; at Holkham, volunteers were weeding; and at Pensthorpe, there was a gardener toiling in the Millennium Garden. To non-gardeners, the concept of a gardener taking a day out to a garden to watch a gardener garden might sound a bit like a cross between a busman's holiday and a bad tongue twister, but we return from these gardeners' getaways raring to tackle the weeds, or tweak a planting scheme and create space for the plants which slipped so cheekily into our shopping trolleys. 

 One-year-old border in our Farmhouse Garden 

We have a lot of landscaping work ahead of us at the farm and since this is our soon-to-be courtyard garden (I hope your imagination is firing on all cylinders), I am going to be in serious need of inspiration, confidence boosters, tea, cake and shopping opportunities.

Perhaps it's time for another day out.

* http://holkhamwalledgarden.blogspot.co.uk/2013/05/the-arena-of-plants-arena-of-plants.html?utm_source=BP_recent
http://www.pensthorpe.com
http://www.e-ruston-oldvicaragegardens.co.uk