The cutting garden

Well, this was going to be the year when I concentrated on flowers for cutting rather than vegetables. On the whole, flowers have proved a lot easier to grow. I wonder if this could be our soil, with about 3 inches of chalky topsoil before you hit the bedrock. This means its very poor in nutrients and prone to frequent and long droughts, both of which flowers seem to handle better than veg. I think to build up sufficient bulk in a vegetable crop you need to either water it constantly, or improve the soil every year for about 10 years??

Having said that, obviously where people are vigilant they have got fantastic crops. You only have to see Ali's blog (from the same allotment site!) to see the potential.

I think until I am able to commit more time in the summer evenings, I will have to resign myself to the lower maintenance crops like flowers and herbs. We are planning to get a greenhouse in the garden later in the year, so this means we can do tomatoes and so on there. Watch this space to see if we do grow anything interesting this year, or whether my moans, groans and excuses fill the WHOLE BLOG! Ha ha.

So in the meantime here are some more of my finest cuttings from this week. First up my Charles de Mills rose was magnificent. This yielded me a whole bush of fragrant, dark mauve blooms. The best ones were cut with a stalk attached and put into an arrangement with some cornflowers.

Ones that were too late to pick for cut flowers were picked just below the flower and placed in water to keep them fresh.

And because I couldn't bear to waste them, I even picked the petals from the deadheads to be dried in saucers and saved. The smell in the room was fantastic!

Rumours of stolen strawberries

One of the things I love about Stanley Road allotment site is the gossip that gently feeds its way round the plots. Sometimes gossip can be hurtful and harmful, but other times it's a godsend, like when tomato blight is working its way down, or when a site inspection is imminent.

We recently heard a rumour that someone has been stealing strawberries. Other plotholders have noticed them going missing. I did wonder why we hadn't got any yet, because normally we would reap the first harvest at the end of May. Every time I have checked the plot there have been none ripe, despite lots of rain and sun recently.

It was disappointing as we have been building up to this strawberry harvest for years, weeding, feeding and watering vigilantly. Some of the plants are supposed to be at their peak this year, and we were hoping for enough to make jam.

On the other hand, we've no evidence that anyone has taken any, and so for now, I think I will jump to the conclusion that it's our own neglect rather than someone else taking our crops!

If this is austerity, I like it

Last week we went camping on the Isle of Wight for my first visit to the Island. I had read that it was 'the new Cornwall', and one of the homes of 'cool camping', thanks to Vintage Vacations, who rent out various vintage caravans and locations including the converted chuch below:

Originally we planned to stay in a yurt, but as we have got all our own camping gear, it seemed like a bit of an exgtravagance. Since the election, David Cameron and George Osborne have got us scared witless facing ten years of tax rises, pay cuts and redundancies, so we are trying to save every penny.

In the end, this had to be the cheapest holiday we have ever had, with the ferry to the Isle being the biggest cost at £80. The camping cost £55 for five nights, which paid for this view out of the tent:

We stayed at Chine Farm campsite on the South coast. It is right next to an old derelict and vandalised holiday camp, which was a bit eerie, but as long as you didn't look in that direction, it didn't really put us off. Even the petrol didn't cost us that much as it is quite a modest distance from London, and the Island itself is only 27 miles across at the longest point.

We brought all our own cooking gear, and it was the first time we had gone camping with the dutch oven and the firepit/barbecue, so we were eager to get cooking.

I was desperate to explore and form my own opinions of the Isle. Looking at reviews on tripadvisor, it is either a paradise of picturesque countryside and old-fashioned seaside resorts or incredibly dull and past its best. I suppose both of these could be correct, depending on which part of the island you are on. The Isle of Wight has a surprisingly dense population, and it feels as though there are too many hideous 60s bungalows ruining picturesque seaviews. Parts have a feel of a fading resort that was once very busy and developed, now fallen out of favour. Things such as the deserted holiday camp and the Isle of Wight Pearl have a quite tragic air about them.

But to judge the whole island on these alone would be a travesty. The rolling hills and idyllic beaches combine to make you feel you have stepped into a 50s advert for Anchor butter. You can't ignore the fact that the place has the highest hours of sunshine in the UK, something we really appreciated as we drove round the stunning coastal road.

The surf at Compton Bay on the south coast was like nothing I have ever seen before in the UK.

The National trust offers great value leaflets showing walks round the nature reserve of the Newtown estuary, which we almost had to ourselves, even on a sunny day in half term.

Ignoring the more run down gift shops selling cheap imports from China, you can find some real hidden gems by scratching the surface. These ranged from Liz Earle's skincare shop in Ryde to a small farm which was selling 100 flavours of home made ice-cream (I had elderflower).

There are picturesque villages such as Godshill, which didn't even lose its charm on the rainiest day of our break:

For gardeners, Ventnor Botanical Gardens have the largest range of tender and half-tender plants growing in the UK. You can buy great value seeds from many of the specimens in the gardens, which are collected each year by enthusiasts and volunteers.

To top it all off, we visited Shanklin Chine, which is a pictureque gorge running towards the sea:

The Chine is the embodiment of green, and very soothing on a hot day.

I think it's safe to say we'll be back!

Crocheted dishcloth

Recently I have been spending a lot of time crocheting things for my new house. Above is a dishcloth made out of cheap cotton bought in car boot sales or on ebay. The inspiration and the pattern were kindly given away for free by crochetspot here. I wonder if I will ever get the courage to use it for something as mundane as wiping the surfaces?

There is something so satisfying about making your own stuff around the place. I have always loved making things, and growing somehow fits into that.

When I lost my right little fingertip in November, overnight I realised how lucky I had been to be healthy and able bodied. The ability to make things was temporarily on hold. I realised that I had spent the best part of my life taking this for granted . I had moaned and whinged every time things didn't go my way. I somehow felt entitled to have a job that wasn't stressful, for everyone in my life to do things my way, all the time. For everything to work out just as I believed it should.

Today I am back to that restless feeling of hurrying round my busy life, even the spare time when I seem to feel obliged to do something useful or constructive. I find it very hard to just 'be'.

This is why gardening has always been a great panacea for my soul. It's a way of doing something but nothing. Even five minutes on the allotment seemed to refresh my spirit. It makes me slow down. Although sustained neglect is a recipe for disaster, a bit of neglect often yields unexpected rewards. Gardening, and in particular growing your own crops is a fantastic way of seeing a little investment of time reap a harvest. Since I have got the use of my right hand back, I can't seem to fit enough life in, gardening, knitting and crochet, amongst a busy job, house, husband and children. But how lucky I am to have that full an in-tray again.

Springtime flowers - Irises

I am so proud of these irises. The plants were bought from the Hampton Court Flower Show in 2008. It was the first time we had been to a big flower show like that and I was overwhelmed by the choice and variety of plants available. As I wandered round the specialised nurseries I found it near impossible to choose which plants to buy. Two irises caught my eye, this one, and one which looked like its opposite, with purple centres and white edges.

I took them home, I lovingly planted them, and then I watched and waited. And waited, and waited.

Last year they looked half dead, and at times it seemed touch and go whether they would even survive. We supposedly have near perfect soil type and conditions, with our chalky soil being reliably alkaline and well drained, with British rainfall to keep it watered. As if to compound this, someone in a neighbouring allotment has a whole field of irises which do brilliantly well.

Just a month ago, this is what it looked like, with a load of manure on in the hope it might do better this year. You can just about see its partner, buried under manure next to it.

Then a few weeks ago, this:

You can imagine my reaction when I saw that it had actually flowered. Despite a month with very little rainfall, they have flowered prolifically. I've got three vases round the house already, pairing them off with some bamboo from our new garden.

Yet again, patience and a touch of neglect works wonders in the garden.

Spring in full force, where do I start?

I sometimes think I should change the name of this blog to the Lazy Gardener, (watch this space actually....) My gardening efforts have been regularly rescued from disaster by my husband, a well timed shower of rain (thank you British climate, I could never survive anywhere else!), the sheer persverance of nature and sometimes just pure luck.

It is now on the brink of May and I have so far done absolutely NOTHING towards this season's crops. And although there is part of me that feels terribly guilty, there is also a part of me that knows that in the UK, this doesn't really matter. Not terribly much growth happens earlier than now, except indoors, and there are always plenty of crops you can get in.

So, my saving graces this year have been:

My amazing darling husband who has been keeping the plot mowed and 'sort of' weeded. He loves his perennials like asparagus, strawberries and rhubarb, so at this time of year he is there more often than me. I do look after the kids meanwhile, so perhaps I am doing my bit?

The fact that someone tipped me off about the tradition of sowing potatoes on Good Friday. Inspired by this folk tradition we sowed them Good Friday morning before the heavy thunderstorms of the afternoon.

Also, hubby has been planting his crops of the year, cherry tomatoes (he'e gone for Gardener's Delight) and butternut squash, as well as some rocket.

As for now, I am frantically sowing sweet peas and beans. I am also setting up a herb and salad box outside my back door, now we have a space with some light at the house. I am planting lots of flower seeds accumlated over the last year. Hoping for a good year of flowers for the house. And I have bought some fabulous perennials for the garden. All very exciting.

The lemon tree at the top of the post is now in our conservatory. After many, many, many years we have got a conservatory which means we can grow citrus plants and indoor bananas. There really is no way to express how exciting this is for us. Twelve years ago, Jamie and I lived in a small flat with a huge south facing window from ceiling to floor. The whole of our very small living space was filled with tropical and indoor plants of many types. For the last ten years we have watched our once impressive indoor plant collection dwindle. We still have one hardy yucca and a Musa Cavendish banana from this era, being kept alive in a greenhouse at Jamie's work. After a very long wait, they can finally come home!

And now as I sit down for my evening scan of everyone's blogs, I fully expect to get lots of inspiration for this year. It's time to put the knitting down and get outside!!!!

Rhubarb Season is here again

When the first rhubarb comes in, it marks the start of the cropping year for us. There is something fantastically symbolic about it, because it is the first spring crop to come through on our plot. Technically there are other crops coming in all year round, but at this time of year they are mainly leftovers from the previous season.

For example, we picked the last of our sprouts and ate them on Easter Sunday. Spring onions are now cropping prolifically. Last year we were astounded by a perfect cauliflower that sprouted in March after a long, unpromising dormancy over Winter.

Rhubarb on the other hand marks the start of the growing season. It is the new season's growth that you crop and eat. Something that was lying dormant in the soil sprouts in a very short time, and provides you with an all-new crop.

Forcing it gives you an even earlier crop, and a tastier, rarer one. By excluding light from the sprouting plant, you force it to reach upwards and produce pale, tender stems. You can only force each plant once every few years, then you need to leave it for a couple of years to regain its strength before cropping it at all again.

It has become a tradition in this house to herald the first forced rhubarb of the year with a bit of a fanfare. This year it feels very late, although we aren't sure if this is to do with this year's cultivar or the cold spring. Obviously the classic partner for rhubarb is custard, and I have to say that rhubarb crumble and custard is a firm favourite for the rest of the year.

However, the perfect, pale pink stems of the first forced crop demanded something more glamorous, so Jamie made 'Rhubarb Creme Brulee'. Which, at the end of the day, is actually just a posher version of rhubarb and custard!

A real spring treat for Easter Sunday.