Water Torture

And then the sun returned. After the wettest winter, last weekend saw some bright and fresh days that resembled something like spring. Getting back on to the allotment to dig in the winter top-dressing of cow manure was rewarding – but hard - work. Now that the downpours have abated a little, the perpetual wind has been quick to dry off the surface; but that only masks the heaviness of the soil less than half a spade’s length down.

For two months, the less quick-draining corner of my plot has been saturated; torturously, this was where the rotation plan had led the overwintering garlic to be planted. It may have survived its aquatic gestation but I am not counting on it: this week I am digging some sand and shingle in with the cow muck on a corner of the higher ground, and putting in some new Cristo garlic cloves. It could be worse: the fruit farm where I have my allotment is estimating that it will lose 1,000 trees as a result of the roots’ prolonged submersion in standing water.

February is, of course, when the sowing and planting begins: broad beans are already on their way in large-celled seed trays in the greenhouse; I have not planted straight into the soil in an attempt to foil those light-fingered field mice. Seed potatoes are quietly chitting in egg boxes in the shed: I have gone for Foremost as my first earlies and the ever-reliable, rose-red Desiree as a main crop. And Sweet Million tomato and Cayenne chilli pepper seedlings are starting to show their tips on a bright, warm windowsill indoors. Next up is more back-breaking digging, followed by the strangely enjoyable donkey work of planting potatoes and onions.

Planting Frenzy

Sunshine, a blue sky and rows of fluffy cumulus clouds sailing along just above the horizon: it feels like spring. And the annual food production has begun: in the week, I managed to get 167 cloves of garlic planted out on the allotment and, since yesterday, four different varieties of tomato - Sweet Million, Gardener's Delight, Beefmaster, Moneymaker - and sweet and chilli peppers have been germinating in seed trays under the Velux windows in the boys' warm loft room.

The past seven years of vegetable growing have taught me a couple of obvious things: it is worth growing as much as you can of crops that are expensive and it is worth growing as much as you can of crops that form a large part of your diet. As a family, we eat a lot of garlic but it is expensive to buy and we have had varied results growing it over the years. We have tried over-winter planting, we have tried spring planting; in both cases, the results have been the same: a moderately good crop but bulbs that are not that big. However, last year I planted spring garlic on the last day of January and had the best garlic harvest we have had. This year, the snow prevented similarly early planting but when the temperature rose earlier this week and the snow disappeared, I got out there with sixteen bulbs, broken into cloves, and had a planting frenzy. Last year’s garlic had run out by Christmas, I am hoping this year’s will last through until spring. I bought the bulbs on offer in a non-gardening shop and the person who served me asked how garlic grew. That each clove planted would turn into a whole bulb of garlic was a delightful revelation to her.

At the same time as I sow tomato and pepper seeds, I usually devote a seed tray to aubergines; but after persevering with these temperamental plants every year, this year I have given up. I have invested a lot of time in trying to grow them but germination has always been hit and miss. I have tried a number of different varieties and some have fared better than others but any plants that have matured have taken up valuable greenhouse space only to produce poor fruit. The dismal truth is that, in seven years, we have been rewarded with only a few decent sized aubergines. So, no more; the greenhouse space will be given over to more cucumbers, which the kids devour in the summer months. And that’s another obvious thing that vegetable growing has taught me: don’t spend time and money on a crop if it outweighs the value of the harvest.