Sunday, April 24, 2016

The monotony of the medium-distance runner

Have I mentioned that I'm running a half marathon in May? No? Well, maybe a few times on Twitter and Facebook. Sorry.

One of the inevitable features of this is that I spend a good hour or two on a Sunday morning running. Not an elegant sight - to be honest, using the word 'running' is rather a generous description of my activity. What's this got to do with gardening? I hear you cry (or rather, I hear the rattle of tumbleweed rolling by a rarely updated blog). Well, you see, running is rather boring. Running for nearly two hours is particularly boring, especially when most of the final thirty minutes is spent thinking "If I can just make it to the next lamppost, then it's not long to that 30mph sign...". However, running is starting to get a little more interesting.

After a winter of brown leaves underfoot, brown mud, brown streams coursing over the pavement, and a plethora of brown and well-disguised dog turds (do the dog-owners in Chester never pick the stuff up?), there are the green shoots of spring.


As I run, I've now started to notice the shoots of plants beginning to scramble through hedges and come up through pavement cracks. Cleavers may not be welcome in the garden (though goodness knows there's enough of it in ours) but it's cheering to see it starting to climb through the hawthorn hedges as I struggle past. It seems to have more energy than me. Peoples' front gardens are bursting with new life; there is a particularly splendid Magnolia stellata well worth running past at this time of year, as well as some older gardens with mature larger magnolias.

And when the distance starts to get a bit too much, I resort to taking my mind off my energy-depleted legs, trying to remember the Latin names of plants I run past - a fence covered with Hedera helix, what's the species name of that Viburnum flowering here? Ahh, good old Crataegus monogyna is starting to leaf up now...

Well, it keeps me on the streets, staggering along.

Wednesday, April 13, 2016

Wordless Wednesday - Oi!


Wednesday, April 06, 2016

Wordless Wednesday - Epimedium


Thursday, March 31, 2016

Whether the weather...

Winter has been late and light this year. December and January were so mild that daffodils started flowering then. But with a cold March, they’re flowering still. Buds on trees are now desperate to push through, the pressure building up. All they need is a day of warm sunshine and the country will suddenly be green, flushed with new growth.

I can’t help but feel a little sad, though. There are many reasons to be thankful for a mild and event-free winter. Less strain on the NHS, ease of commuting, and avoiding the endless TV and radio news when travel chaos hits London. But I’m of an age when I can remember the relatively regular excitement of fat flakes of snow spiralling down, not just for a few minutes, but enough so that we could excitedly shout ‘It’s sticking, it’s sticking!’ and wake the next day to an entirely new landscape. Yes, I know: rose tinted glasses with lenses blurred by the Vaseline of nostalgia. I didn’t have to get to work then, or worry about shopping, heating bills or having to stay off work because the nursery or school was shut.

But snow angels, snowmen, sliding on compacted snow were all regular occurrences. At junior school, the exciting moment when, on a snowy day, the headmaster would emerge, dustbin lid in hand. Not because of concern over litter, or due to some weird form of corporal punishment but because, on a snowy day, he let himself be fair game. He would run, with lid wielded as a shield, around the playing field whilst we tried our hardest to pelt him with snowballs. Climate change is much more serious than missing out on the chance of getting your own back on your headmaster, but it makes me just a little sad that this regular occurrence seems to be disappearing. Our little boy has barely seen snow; just a few flakes, a sprinkling. Frantic scraping of a dusting led to a snowman a few inches high last year. This year – nothing.
Instead, a late spring will bring fat flakes of green as a storm of leaves appear on branches over the next few days. But you can’t make a snowman out of that.

Monday, March 28, 2016

Purple


Thursday, January 14, 2016

Book review: The gardens of the British working class

Another book review for the blog, and another book that I started ages ago and have only just finished. It's funny, now I'm having to read more for my EdD, my appetite for reading other material has increased, perhaps as an antidote to having to read about epistemology and hermeneutics.

Anyway, enough of that - on to the interesting stuff. I bought this book about 18 months ago, with my own fair money.

Margaret Willes is the author of The Gardens of the British Working Class, and she has previously worked as a publisher at the National Trust. She has had several garden-related books published, and I have another of hers on my pile.

This book is an attempt to fill the gap that so often arises when one looks back at any era of history - the story of the working class. The voice of the poor is difficult to find, but the author investigates the role of the garden or working class people from the 1500s onwards. She even manages to find evidence of a few of those most excluded from history - women. The book charts the move from rural setting, through industrialisation to suburbia, all the while discussing the importance of the garden, allotment or even window boxes. Throughout much of this time, a well-stocked garden was all that stood between many of the working class and starvation. It's only relatively recently that gardening for the pleasure of flowers has come to the fore, although Margaret does find evidence of flowers being cultivated whenever possible.

One good example of the desire to grow flowers was the rise of the 'florists' and their societies from the 1600s onwards. Here, middle class and working men (they all appear to have been men) competed for glory and prizes in the cultivation of flowers such as carnations, auriculas and tulips. Some bright perfection in what was often a hard life.

Some of the history of urban parks is also of great interest, with philanthropists providing land in places such as the East end of London to be developed as parks. Well, in part philanthropy but also to reduce the risk of rabbles and revolutions.

The book also discusses the rise of allotments and their political past (to be truthful, they still are...), Dig for Victory and the development of radio and TV gardening celebrities.

I could go on, but I'll never start the next book. I found this a fascinating read and am enthralled by the amount of research which must have gone into it. I can't wait to read the next book in the pile by Margaret Willes. However, first I'm reading SPQR by Mary Beard, so I may be gone some time.

Wednesday, December 30, 2015

The Garden Anthology - a book review

The Garden Anthology - edited by Ursula Buchan (Frances Lincoln, Ltd., 2014).



I am an RHS member, and receive on a monthly basis their magazine - The Garden. This is generally an interesting read. Whilst I do get occasionally fed up of yet an other gushing review of a huge private garden, there are also articles on smaller gardens and, increasingly, social/gardening movements. This year, Tim Richardson wrote a great article on  the High Line in New York. Whilst I'm never likely to visit it, Tim's coverage of social and political factors lying behind the garden made for a more interesting read than the normal "Look at the lovely herbaceous perennials" discussion of it.

Tim Richardson is one of the authors chosen to feature in this book, a collection of articles from over 100 years of The Garden magazine. His short article discusses the landscaping at Ground Zero. Other authors include plant hunter George Forrest, garden designers Geoffrey Jellicoe and Gertrude Jekyll, and cook Nigel Slater. I was going to write 'a real mix', but perhaps very much indicating the typical readership. Middle class (and higher - Viscountess Byng of Vimy?), almost exclusively white, although men and women are both well represented. I suppose a pretty accurate reflection of the readership.

The articles themselves cover a range of topics - seasons, the kitchen garden, plants and people. The more fascinating chapters for me were those which showed a wider variety between the years. For this reason, I particularly enjoyed the pests and diseases and science and innovation sections. Here, dates of articles ranged most widely, from 1900 to 2013. It was fascinating to read a review of the horticultural value of Mendel's experiments in genetics, and to see how the use of chemicals has changed over time. I was glad to see that the author of a section on popular weedkillers acknowledged that arsenic might constitute a health hazard for the user. Chlorates, on the other hand, were fine.

As I mentioned above, it was the older articles (a smattering of early 1900s through to 1954) that were so interesting, shedding a light on past thoughts and gardening practicalities. Some things change, others not so much. Which leads me on to the one thing I found disappointing about the book. With the weight of history of The Garden magazine, it was a shame that the editor concentrated on very recent articles. I became a little obsessed by this, I admit. It turns out that 30% of the articles chosen for this anthology came from the single year 2010, with 73% of them being from 2009 - 2014 Whilst I was working this out, I also noticed the editor's name cropping up quite a lot in articles, and discovered that 9 (or 7%) of the articles she chose were written by her. The only other writer with anywhere near the same number of articles chosen was Hugh Johnson, mostly writing as Tradescant, who wrote for The Garden from 1975 to 2006. He contributed 6 articles (4.6%). I can only conclude that The Garden had a golden year in 2010, for so many articles to be chosen. Thinking back, I can't imagine that 2010 was so outstanding. Perhaps that was when a modern system of online indexing made article choice easier...

I must make mention of the beautiful illustrations by Jenny Bowers that are scattered throughout the book - they're a joy.

In summary - an interesting read, easy to dip into, but I can't help wishing for a few more historical articles.


Note: I was sent this book to review. I do so belatedly (it was published in late 2014). All views are my own, etc.

Wordless Wednesday - Arachnophilia


Wednesday, December 23, 2015

2015 and all that

Hmm...

2015 will not resound as a success in the blogging scheme of things. And only slightly more gardening has been done than blogging. One or two garden visits, but only to places I've been before and now with a small child who isn't interested in standing still while I photograph plant combinations.

The garden has been slightly neglected - the summer seemed so dull that I lost my mojo. It looked well enough though; it's starting to mature so most things in the back garden just get on. I will need to divide herbaceous perennials in the spring, though. This year's heleniums were rather poor. The front garden needs rethinking and retaming. It looks good for a while in early summer, as it grows in wild abandon. Then it looks untidy, and misses some flowering time before late summer flowers make their entrance and stretch through to autumn. I'm hoping some of the information I learnt from the MyGardenSchool course with Noel Kingsbury will help with that.

I did go to the Gardeners' World Live show in June and Tatton Park in July. Tatton was great, GWLive tired.


So what have I actually done in 2015? Well, it's been a year of sorting myself out, I suppose. I've lost 4.5 stone. I've started running again - furthest so far is 10 miles. I've enrolled on a part-time Doctorate in Education - it'll only be 5 or 6 years and around 100,000 words before I (hopefully) get to call myself 'Doctor'. Because of this, I've learned how to say "epistemological", though I do still need a bit of a run-up at it. I've also tried to be a good mum.  I've given up on the long-held vague idea of a career in horticulture. Far better to concentrate on enjoying it as a way of relaxing, though I'm also still learning to share the garden and not worry when footballs get kicked into prized perennials. I'm not sure I'll ever lose the pang I feel when this happens, but I'm gradually learning to ignore the pang and kick the ball with abandon myself.

As for 2016?  Hopefully blog a little more. Maybe photograph a little more. Get round to replanning the front garden. Run the Chester Half Marathon on 15th May. Take time to smell the lilac. Learn to chill. Try to be nicer. Be more patient. Enjoy the moment.

I wish you all a happy and healthy 2016 x


Wednesday, October 21, 2015

Wordless Wednesday - Red