First Autumn - almost...

I was trawling through my laptop folders for an up-to-date CV a couple of days ago. I didn't find one. What I did find was something I wrote when Thomas was just six months old and coming up to experiencing his first autumn. Not that he'd have been aware of it. This year, he'll be much more into leaping into piles of leaves, and he loves peering at blackberries to see if they're ripe.

At the risk of turning this blog into the gardening blog equivalent of a Vogon poetry recitation, I thought I'd publish it here.  In the garden at the moment it's autumnal by feel, if not by date. Normal, non-poetic service will resume shortly.

First Autumn

Flights of brown and red and orange tumble through the air;

Fallen flights crunch under hands and knees, and smell of age.

A thousand bright jewels reflect rainbows, strung together by invisible threads;

In the middle is eight-legged patience, waiting for trembles.

Sweet explosions of red and purple orbs on the tongue,

Plucked by a loving hand from twigs guarded by grabbing plant claws.

Out of the window, the garden made blurred by clouds that touch the ground,

Muffling the robin’s sad song.

A new season, new sensations – a myriad new experiences

To touch, to taste, to see, to smell –

My first autumn.

Back to school - MyGardenSchool



 

It's nearly September, the traditional time for new academic ventures. In this spirit, I'm embarking on a new learning experience myself. I was asked if I'd participate in a four week online MyGardeningSchool gardening course, in exchange for writing about it on this blog. So, here is my first report. The course doesn't start until 2nd September but I thought I'd introduce the topic a little first.

I love learning, so this was a wonderful opportunity. I had a choice of a whole range of four week courses, including professional planting design, wildlife gardening, garden photography and veg growing - it's a pretty extensive list. I was sorely tempted by the garden history course, but I have studied that a little in the past. All of the tutors are experts in their field; for example, Clive Nichols is the tutor on the garden photography masterclass, and you'd be hard-pressed to not find his photographs in the best garden books and magazines.

The four week courses cost £145 so are not cheap, but are on a par with a day course, if you were to pay to spend the time with an expert. For this money, you get access to the virtual classroom, and four weeks of video tutorials with the named tutor. In addition, and perhaps slightly daunting at the moment, you have four assignments to complete. These are critiqued by the tutor, who provides feedback.

So which one did I choose to try? Well, parts of the garden are suffering at the moment from a lack of structure and succession, so my eye was drawn to Planting Design with Perennials. There are few tutors who would have as much academic experience in this area as Dr Noel Kingsbury, who has written a number of books on the topic, as well as recently publishing his first e-book with MyGardenSchool.

Rather exciting. One bonus is that because it's virtual, I don't need new school shoes. I used to hate that part of going back to school. Watch this space!


Note: I have received the course free of charge in exchange for writing my opinions on it. I have not been asked to provide a positive 'spin' in exchange for this, but just to provide regular feedback through this blog, for the duration of the course.

A-foraging we will go..

Another week, another Twitter conversation which inspires another (poor) cover of someone else's genius.

Apparently the bane of many a riverside, Himalayan Balsam, is dripping with nectar for pollinators. Great, but it's a bit rubbish for other plants which would like to live along the river banks.

Carol Klein commented on James Wong's tweet along those lines. Having spent a couple of summers when I was at university 'balsam bashing' at a local nature reserve, I have to admit to having itchy hands, ready to pull it up, whenever I see it.

 



(By the way, I love that two of the presenters on the very programme also use the hashtag #ShoutyHalfHour! However, when they have bits in an episode, it usually becomes #QuietlyAbsorbedAndInterestedHalfHour in our household but that hashtag is too long for Twitter).

Anyway, back to the topic. Turns out, according to VP, that Himalayan Balsam is edible..

Of course, many things are edible. That doesn't mean you'd actually want to eat them. Our allotment was over-run with ground elder when we took it over. To be honest, parts of it pretty much remained so. I read that it was edible. We tried it. To bowdlerise the great Mick 'Crocodile' Dundee: "You can live on it, but it tastes like $h1t". Still, not as bad as strawberry spinach, which is an actual crop. Anyway, you can now appreciate my starting point when it comes to the trend that is foraging. Just no.

But then, a challenge...

And so, with apologies to Thomas Arne, I present A-foraging we will go. Not my best, but it's Sunday evening and I haven't had any wine...

A-foraging we will go,

A-foraging we will go,

Himalayan Balsam’s quite dandy, if it’s covered in candy;

And then we’ll let it grow.

A-foraging we will go,

A-foraging we will go,

Ground elder’s quite nice if you drown it in spice;

And then we’ll let it grow.

A-foraging we will go,

A-foraging we will go,

Nettles have zing, if you don’t mind the sting;

And then we’ll let them grow.

 

A-foraging we will go,

Oh actually, wait, just no

Don’t call me an arse, but they all taste like grass

Let’s just let them grow.

An Ode to Monty Don's Box Blight

Anyone who watched Gardeners' World last night would have seen that quite a lot of it was about box blight. I tweeted:

HappyMouffetard ‏@HappyMouffetard 23h23 hours ago

Monty, if you cut down those tall hedges and got some breeze through, you might get fewer fungal problems? #shoutyhalfhour

As you'll note, I didn't @Monty into the conversation. I don't follow him, either. And he certainly doesn't follow me, although he did briefly and mistakenly follow my alter ego a couple of years ago. It would seem, however, that he checks out the #shoutyhalfhour hashtag, as I had a reply:

Monty Don ‏@TheMontyDon 22h22 hours ago

@HappyMouffetard Very true. Have reduce much but happy to trade some blight for more height.

And so, having read a Dr Seuss book to Thomas at bedtime this evening, I have turned the programme's general coverage, my response, and Monty's reply into a small poem.

With apologies to Dr Seuss' Green Eggs and Ham..

That boxy blight, that boxy blight

I do not like that boxy blight.

Do you like it in your hedge?

Do you like it on your ledge?

I do not like it in my hedge

I would not like it on my ledge.

You may like it on living walls

You make like it on your box balls.

I do not like it on living walls

I do not like it on my balls.

Not in my hedge

Not on my ledge

I do not like it with all my might

I do not like that boxy blight.

If you don’t like boxy blight

Why not try to let in light?

Let in some wind and blow away

Those fungal spores that like to play.

I do not want to cut it down

That would make me grump and frown

I do not want to lose tall hedges

Even though I’ve blighty edges.

Try some fungicides, you'll see

That they might kill it properly!

I do not want no chemicals

Dusted on my boxy balls

A brown dead mess won’t make me panic

Unlike the thought of not being organic.

Perhaps that boxy blight’s OK

I’ll keep it for another day

No chemicals, no cut down hedge

I’ll keep my blighty balls, I pledge

I’ll give no plant its final chops,

 I do so love my blighty box.