Green Fingers VI

It was June and I was catching up with the real gardening jobs, the ones that cause back ache and force dirt under your finger nails.

I’d tried wilding in a plot where my friend D had removed a rose and small cherry tree. Having read ‘Wilding’ by Isabella Tree, now there’s a name for a gardener, I left this small plot in the lawn unmown. But when doing the Big Butterfly Count there seemed no shortage of bees in our garden and I generally tend to leave wild flowers such as buttercup, daisies and herb Robert to grow. Maybe my patch wasn’t necessary? I’ll rethink my wilding ideas for next year. My garden isn’t immaculate nor devoid of non-cultivated plants…In other words there are wild areas  already. I’ll work out the best way of keeping a wild area alive without the garden running riot. 

Thinking, now, of the other extreme: the cultivar. Neighbours had given us a beautiful lemon tree for our Ruby Wedding. As May had been so cold I was minded to follow the care instructions for this plant more closely than usual. And there were a lot of them.

When I read that watering had to be done using water that was room temperature and how a lemon tree doesn’t like cold or shocks I wrapped it in bubble wrap and ensured its compost didn’t dry out. I was also trying hard not to overwater it. The watering can was kept indoors, close by,  so the water wasn’t too cold for the tree. And I kept it in the same place, wrapped, waiting for temperatures outside to grow more seasonable. Naturally - as it’s a Mediterranean plant - I made sure it was close to the window in the insulated shed.

This way I avoided the commonest mistakes people make when tending a lemon tree: Over-watering or under-watering, temperature changes, poor light and nutrients.

My friend had kept his lemon tree indoors throughout the winter but there isn’t much space in our house unless it stays in a bathroom. I also noted citrus trees need good ventilation, away from drafts but also away from radiators. Although conservatories and hallways are ideal we have neither a hall nor a conservatory. But we do have three well-lit bathrooms. 

All that was planning for the future. I had already bought chicken manure pellets and phosphate feed. The watering regime and feed had encouraged new growth, blossom and the formation of tiny lemons. At least it had grown some on my watch.

If a citrus isn’t getting nutrients the leaves turn to different colours, and mine were all still green. If the leaves do turn the tree is likely to be starved of iron, magnesium or nitrogen. I think the phosphate feed I was using did the trick. I just needed to feed the tree weekly. Although the potash I have says once a season. It takes some nurturing this tree!

Another issue was pests. Lemon trees can suffer from aphids, gall wasps and citrus leaf miner. I can’t say I was familiar at dealing with any of these pests. Apparently the eggs from the bugs have to be lifted by hand and leaves cut to remove any damage from miners. The lemon tree seemed somewhat high maintenance. But I persevered!

I knew lemon trees were sensitive to frost but little did I know that once moved to the sunny outdoors they needed shade for the first few days. As I don’t have a conservatory I moved the tree to full sun but for a whole week I gave it its own parasol and base to shade it. Neighbours couldn’t understand why my parasol was only 4 foot off the ground…

In June the sun is, of course, at its highest and strongest. I also loosely draped bubble wrap over the leaves so they didn’t scorch. After a week of this treatment I let the lemon tree cope with the elements. It was finally on its own. And at last we were enjoying summer temperatures.

Thus far the tree has continued to produce flowers, fruits and new leaves.  l read it can cope with dry conditions - it is from much hotter countries than ours - but I felt I must feed it more often.

Meanwhile - in early June - I watched a You Tube video on the best ways to build wigwams for my climbing beans. I wound string around one wigwam to encourage the climbers to cling on. In the second wigwam I used only beans in toilet roll inners but not string for the tendrils to grasp. And for a third wigwam I decided not to put mesh around the young plants. For the other two wigwams I protected the plants with mesh against slug damage. 

For up to a week after intensely caring for the citrus tree I hardened off my beans. They survived! 

 

After hardening off, a little more exposure to the outdoors every day, I planted dwarf French beans in my raised beds. In another raised bed overwintering cabbages were heartening up and I covered them against cabbage white butterfly grubs. In another raised bed I sowed spinach.

At that point my greenhouse was almost empty and all my tomato plants could take up residence there. Finally I felt like a gardener once more! 

But that didn’t last long.

We were back to the hardware. Our local electrician had found a way of using old cables buried in our flower beds to create a circuit up to the garage, new shed and greenhouse. 

It took him a couple of days to resurrect the switch and socket in the garage. He got a new strip light working in there and put the whole in waterproof casings. The greenhouse was given its own frost stat heater(one that could cope with rain and leaks) and the shed had a couple of sockets for a kettle and a lamp or even a heater. Everything was waterproofed and although it was too late for this year’s crops and flowering plants it meant the lemon tree need never suffer from frost and overwintering plants should survive in the green house, although they may need extra protection from a few layers of bubble wrap.Even the late, great Percy Thrower suggests covering plants (or greenhouse windows) in the very coldest months. Even with heat. 

The month of June was a month of achievement. It saw that I had a safe, working greenhouse heater, a useful thermometer, double glazing and space for tomato plants. The roof window was letting in less rain but I opened it on much drier days to allow the tomatoes get the ventilation they needed. 

I could charge the battery pack to my new mower in the socket in the new shed. And the mower was so light I could easily lift it. And there was no longer the need for unwinding a cable extension every time I cut the lawn. At long last there was a return to light in the garage. If we do put the car in there on some very cold nights we can see what we are doing without the need for torches. Blow me we were getting sophisticated! 

By the 12th June everything was growing away and I felt I’d cracked it for this year. I was equally proud of the petunias which had grown from tiny plugs to cascading beauties in patio pots and in the front garden. And we’d had our two jabs against covid-19. 

Phew! Busy but successful! 

Time for a holiday in Devon! 

Green Fingers V

By mid-May this year I had joined an allotment growers group on facebook. Almost everyone was complaining that it was too cold and wet for seeds to germinate and many were growing them on windowsills. But we have very narrow window sills in our house. And for the first time I have a greenhouse, which I preferred to use, to get the sowing season started. 

It became very frustrating to still see the thermometer register no more than 45 deg F. I knew most French beans need 50deg F for germination. I had a few weeks in hand but I was itching to get growing.

On one of the rare days in May when it was sunny and dry I decided to brighten up the shed and greenhouse. I matched Cuprinol wood stain shades with my bunting and bought a copy of Gill Heriz’s ‘A Woman’s Shed’. In it were glorious examples of sheds cum study rooms, garden rooms, work rooms, sun rooms and - simply - sheds. I found the design that most closely resembled my new ‘play pen’. It had access to water, electricity, a table and chairs, a cushion, a view, curtains (to match the cushions) and the inevitable kettle. The best one was built with decking and a sail for shade. 

I set to with my seven metres of cloth. As I don’t have a sewing machine I trimmed the edges with pinking shears. There would be time in the winter to sit and make proper hems. I bought a simple piece of curtain wire and created a drape which matched the table cloth and spread a decorative swash along the shelf. No plants were growing there as yet. 

I kept some cloth back as a cushion cover and painted the outside of the new shed and greenhouse in a lurid but fun array of lime green, flamingo pink, white and powder blue stripes. In the generally bleak month of May it was fun and lifted the spirit. 

Meanwhile I had managed to pot up my begonia bulbs and in the unheated greenhouse they were just sprouting leaves. It was then I made a ridiculous discovery:

As I looked more closely at the plants on the shelves  I saw that the thermometer which had never shifted from 45 deg F had a crack in it. It must have fallen and broken without my realising it. All this time it hadn’t even worked! The point at which I thought the meniscus on the mercury was stuck - at 45 degrees - the glass has smashed. No mercury could travel any further up the thermometer column. The column had been broken. 

Since before lockdown, in some cases, we’d lost a few useful local shops. One of them was our DIY shop. It sold thermometers. But I didn’t want to waste any more time hunting down a DIY store. It was past mid-May already. The heat in the greenhouse was still palpable even though it was unseasonably cold outside. An online search had a 24 hour delivery slot. Next day my new thermometer arrived. 

And, of course, with the thermometer safely installed inside the greenhouse, the mercury raced up the column. It was beyond 50 deg F. My French beans could germinate in those temperatures even if it was cooler overnight. Phew! What time had I wasted?

The small, grafted ‘sweet petite’ tomatoes had their place on the window sills indoors. But I set to in my new shed. I removed the table cloth and shelf cloth and armed with bags of seed compost I sowed trays of dwarf French bean and, new for me, about 30 climbing beans. For the latter I had been saving toilet roll inners. Some climbers were sown in seed trays, others in the toilet roll inners, simply as a comparative experiment. It was exciting!

By 19th May I had transplanted two tomato plants into large, individual pots and spaced them apart in one half of the greenhouse. And my trays of beans were germinating in their trays on shelves in the other half. All the wooden shelves were full of germinating beans and leeks and the petunias were in flower. In fact I had so many climbing beans I set some on the shelf under the large window in my new shed.

The temperatures inside the greenhouse held and 95% of the seedlings grew to four inches in height. By 1st June I enriched the prepped soil with more of my homemade compost and constructed wigwams from approximately 8 six foot canes. I was much relieved to have a working thermometer. The double-glazed polycarbonate ‘windows’ clearly kept in enough warmth so that my largely unheated greenhouse could sustain growth. We were in business!

But I’d say most garden plants and outdoor varieties were about a month behind. Would they all catch up in June? The weather was picking up.

Surely it was time for flowers to open and for the beans to go outside?

Yes. It was. But I spent the next few weeks removing bindweed that had flourished in all the rain. What a downer…And not just bindweed. Almost all the fuchsias, periwinkles and other leafy growth had exploded their waistlines during the wet weather. My neat spring garden looked unkempt and overrun. And a lot of it was simply excess growth. It had been too wet for anything more than intermittent, inconsequential gardening.

But June was a better month. At long last real gardening could begin. 

And on to more  home-growing adventures in my next post…

Green Fingers IV

Just before the anniversary of the March 23 Covid lockdown my greenhouse was waiting, with empty shelves, to be filled with ready-sown seed trays and pots of bulbs. I too was anticipating new seedlings emerging from their compost. But, now the greenhouse was double-glazed, and although the space felt very warm, especially on sunny days, the thermometer showed it was barely 33deg F inside the polycarbonate ‘glass’ house.

I knew it was too early to sow beans but I had packets of cosmos, sunflowers, sweet peas and leeks, lettuce and spinach. 33 deg F was far too cold for germination. Even D, my shed & greenhouse builder, remarked how tropical it felt inside even though the thermometer sternly said it was merely a few degrees above freezing.

On the evening of March 23 itself I lit a candle on our front steps in remembrance of those lost to covid. 

In our bubble we had all had our first jabs and I was relieved that we were beginning to feel safer. The lead GP at the practice where we were jabbed even said it was safe to stop washing all groceries and disinfecting newspapers and the mail that came into the house. That gave me confidence too.

And it was still light at 7pm. Spring had sprung. But not in my greenhouse!

I spent time potting up Suttons beautiful lilac and pink primulas and laying bark on the flower beds. My petunia plugs were no longer than the first joint on my little finger but I could use the greenhouse to bring them on. And my begonia bulbs were ready to plant in pots. All were suitable for the greenhouse, despite the thermometer reading.

By the 12th April lockdown restrictions were partially lifted, our patio fence had blown in, and it was our 40th wedding anniversary. Nevertheless we had a patio party under the rule of six. The primulas made the patio look pretty, even though the fence was hanging badly. I covered it with a screen which displayed our Ruby Wedding cards and bunting.

Meanwhile the greenhouse thermometer was resolute that it was 32 deg F. Friends had given us a lemon tree as an anniversary present, but it would be far too cold for it in the greenhouse. I opted to place it in the new, well-clad shed, in front of the big glass window. As stated in the instructions I repotted the lemon tree as soon as I could and kept the watering can nearby. I didn’t want the water temperature in the can to drop to outside temps. It might be too much of a shock. And I wrapped my new citrus tree in bubble wrap.

That week we enjoyed an anniversary trip to Devon, had warm days on the beach and cooler evenings eating out at the many restaurants and pubs questing for business. We had to book and couldn’t sit inside. There were still covid restrictions. 

And at the end of that sunny week I bought grafted ‘Sweet Petite’ tomato plants. But they stayed in my kitchen. It still registered just above freezing in the greenhouse, even though a blast of hot air met me when I opened the door. 

It was then I took a closer look at the meniscus on the thermometer. In fact it was reading 48 deg F. The mercury had pulled away from the bulb and it needed a magnet to reset it. 

Although it was still just too cold for germination my petunia plugs were growing and I brought my begonias on. Spring was almost springing.

Although it was too early to sow my French beans, dwarf and climbers, the leek seedlings were finally fatter than a strand of hair and D gave me some pea plants to grow on the same shelf as the petunias. 

But what to do about raising the temperature? I opted for a small gas heater. It sounded fine in theory, especially in a greenhouse that suffers from leaks and rain getting in through the roof top window. But I had advice about putting heat in the greenhouse and electricity seemed too dangerous. I don’t like paraffin heaters. The small gas heater seemed to fit the bill. And - on first use - the temperatures rose.

It was the end of April and I felt ready to start sowing my beans and transferring the tomatoes into the greenhouse. But then we had the wettest, coldest May on record. And the manufacturers of the little gas heater were most insistent it wasn’t safe to use it without ventilation ie have the greenhouse window open. But it hadn’t said that in the description when I bought it. Another conundrum. If I opened the window the rain got in. Again I was pondering what to do about the leaks and, apparently, cold temperatures in the new greenhouse.  

Back to square one. It was far too cold to use the greenhouse without heating. Temperatures had to be 50 deg for germination but I couldn’t leave the gas heater on over night - the coldest hours. The gas heater manufacturers said so. And I wasn’t going to set the alarm to wander out into the garden in the wee small hours to remove the gas heater once temperatures were higher. 

What to do? I could light a candle in an upturned terracotta pot. Or I could use the gas heater on dry days and just in the day time when I was home. But that’s hardly running the greenhouse at a regular temperature. And it wasn’t just the heater that was somewhat problematic. The thermometer hadn’t actually working at all.

I came up with a better solution: More on the pesky thermometer and ‘heating the greenhouse’ in Green Fingers V. 

Green Fingers III

The problem with having so much hardware introduced to the garden it’s easy to forget it’s a place for plants.

The fashion - about twenty years ago - for garden decking, glass and metal constructions and tv screens in a garden, the outside room, always seemed to me to be more about stone, pebbles, cement, sawing and hammering than growing and nurturing.

In our garden, by February this year, we had a new leaky greenhouse, an insulated almost perfect shed, bags of gravel, sand and cement and decorative bark, raised beds on legs, step ladders, tarpaulin and tins of paint. There was a point at which I wondered whether any growing would ever actually take place.

Even my hard-working builder friend,D, said the top garden looked like a building site. Bags of rubble and clag were filling the garage, while I awaited a slot at the corporation tip aka the city recycling site. Spare cement was used to make small walls and boundaries from a few red bricks we had lying around. The bonfire- cum-enriched veggie plot was no more - its space taken by the new shed. And the new raised beds were ready for fresh compost. 

So my green fingers turned black and I improved the soil too. Gotta get down and dirty!

But what to do about the condensation in the greenhouse? Polycarbonate sheets seemed to be the answer: double-glazing for the greenhouse. We looked at various websites; remember we no longer have a Homebase or a local DIY store. The nearest B&Q store is in Bristol but we do have a Screwfix. In the end I ordered £200 worth of polycarbonate sheets to be collected. This cost on top of the initial outlay for the greenhouse was leading me to think an expensive one might have been more economical in the end. However it was a perfect size for the space we had. And, days later, after my friend, D, had created a double-glazed effect using poly sheets,beading, nails and more and more silicon, the transformation was truly remarkable. Gone were the grey, fogged, wet windows. We had a working, unheated greenhouse.

Then the shelves went in. Even more exciting was getting the tumbler compost maker. A neighbour saved me £100 by donating his to me. He had cleaned it out and it fitted neatly next to the new shed. I was finally beginning to think of growing rather than building. And it was still only February. And to add to my gratitude another neighbour helped D to carry my pine table into the shed for me. 

A favourite uncle of mine had given me the money for the pine table when we got married 40 years ago. We also purchased a matching cabinet with shelves. They were among our first purchases when we moved into our new home. We hardly needed to buy anything, however, as Richard’s mother chose to go into a nursing home at the same time and we inherited her dresser, three piece suite, desk, double bed and occasional tables. My aunt gave us a canteen of silver and we had many chairs, bookshelves, cooking pots and pans of our own plus my mother-in-law’s kitchen ware. 

The pine table, then, meant a lot to me. But we have had it outside, wrapped in bubble-wrap and many layers of tarpaulins, for more years than was good for it as oak replaced pine in our dining room. But the pine table was a poor thing: Its legs were bowed, the drawer no longer fitted, the table top was damp and needed sandpapering but nevertheless it worked as a table. Others would have taken it to a tip. I had it moved into the new shed. Sheltered housing for its old age. 

Come mid-March, my birthday, the flower beds were looking colourful and my thoughts turned to vegetables. I had half-heartedly planted cabbages which, in the main, had unsuccessfully overwintered. But I left four of them to grow on and covered them with mesh. 

It was high time for using some of my freshly-made compost on the veggie beds. It took three digs to work them as every time I raked them and prepped them another load of grit was put on top; so much work was still going on in the garden with fewer places to deposit excess soil. After the third attempt I covered them with tarpaulins … ‘verboten’.

I was itching to sow beans, peas, leeks and spinach, my usual fare. But the thermometer said ‘no’. More of that next time: my adventures in heating a greenhouse…

Green Fingers II

The greenhouse had been finished just a few days ago. It was a cold January and even in an unheated greenhouse the air inside the glass was warmer than outside. The condensation was grey it was so thick: it blocked the windows and water dripped to the floor. 

My friend D put in new shelves and kept the window open in an attempt to shift the condensation. But every morning the floor was wet as the rain or sleet blasted its way through the roof. Something had to be done. The cheap but attractive greenhouse was about to cost me a lot more.

Meanwhile just as we saw January out the new shed arrived. It was a very different construction. D and I had had great fun using a cement mixture to make the base. All I did was fill its hungry tummy with water and sand and I pressed the on-off button. Nevertheless I felt empowered!

The greenhouse continued producing condensation but the cement set overnight. It’s a chemical reaction and not dependent on heat for drying and setting. Through a chemical reaction called hydration

calcium oxide, aluminum oxide, and ferric oxide react together ( CaO.Al2O3.Fe2O3 )to form cement.  

Again, it’s amazing what you learn. I did pass ‘A’level chemistry so I understand it ( a bit).

The base was set but the weather was closing in. Nevertheless, despite the dull skies, a kindly retired man delivered the shed  - and bang on time. He said he enjoyed his work - he felt useful in his retirement - and didn’t mind reversing his van downhill to our garage. He was able to lift each heavy section alone - showing the work was keeping him fit. Then D arrived to help carry the shed kit indoors. 

Happily the window section incorporated a large piece of (real) glass and the doors had their own key in a working lock. In addition there was flooring and high quality roofing felt. But the wood was so good it was a heavy kit to move. Between them the gents manoeuvred the sections into our empty garage. 

Next day D contacted his brother to help anchor the heavy wood sections on to the base. By 11:00 on Sunday they set to with just my trays of tea to sustain them.

They worked hard and I ordered take away roast beef for them as a thank you. Again the pub was allowed to serve take outs only. It seemed normal then but as I write such restrictions have been lifted and we can eat at tables again.

The boys did very well but D’s brother decided to get on the road early. Snow was expected and, naturally, he didn’t want to be marooned. Before he hit the road the roof went on - minus its lovely green felt - then the snow started to fall. 

At 4 pm I collected the roast beef and divided it up between us inside our barely weather-proof garage. D took his portion with him and the neonate shed had to cope on its own, unprotected in the inclement weather. 

Meanwhile, in between making the workers hot drinks, I’d watched the film ‘The Train’ where French resistance workers try to divert a train full of art work away from the hands of the Nazis. I don’t know who worked harder: French resistance or my friend and his brother constructing the shed. Thankfully the snow didn’t last long. And we were proud parents - now a two-sheds family with an imperfect greenhouse. 

Next: how to get heat in the greenhouse and stop the condensation (it took months of effort). 

But the new shed was my play house and it filled me with glee. From an unpromising start it has become ‘a shed of one’s own’.  

Green Fingers

As a carer during the pandemic I have been cautious about mixing with others. I can’t risk my husband getting covid-sick on top of his medical state. And if I got covid he couldn’t care for me. My outlet has been: a ‘literature on film course’, swimming, art challenge, carers cafe, covid-safe meet-ups with mates… and my garden.

At the start of lockdown #2, November 2020, our garden fence and hardware chap said my shed was rotten. I was happy to replace it with a potting shed. We have little substantial window ledge room in our house making germination of seedlings difficult. A potting shed or greenhouse was required. This same chap said it was impossible to build a potting shed where I wanted it and thereby talked himself out of a job. A friend of ours understood exactly what I wanted. We perused websites and brochures and I ordered a £700 potting shed. Expensive but taller than average with double doors, space for the pine table we had from uncle when we got married, with good sized windows and much space for shelves and hooks. The greenhouse I chose was a wooden construction with polycarbonate windows. And about a third of the price. 

By January my friend-cum-gardener had made space for concrete bases for the shed and greenhouse in our top garden. He shifted the raised beds and ordered bags and bags of sand and cement. All was going well until the shed suppliers said there was a delay in receiving the shed sections their end. Was it covid? Was it Brexit? Either way we had to wait. Meanwhile the inferior greenhouse was available. As was the so-called help on their switchboard: 

Me: ‘Does the greenhouse come with its own staging?’

Reply: ‘What’s staging?’

Clearly an expert.

Nor did they know if it came with its own floor. 

However on delivery day, at the end of January this year, my friend and I waited for the driver to deliver the sections of the greenhouse via the back roads to the rear of our house. It takes some doing manoeuvring around our neighbourhood for someone with a lorry driving up from Southampton in hail and sleet. My friend and I stood at points along the road to flag him down in case we saw him driving the wrong way. It’s surprising what you learn about lorry types, their width and tonnage, when asking them to reverse down hill to your garage. And a neighbour had just had a load of logs delivered which was blocking the entrance to our slip road. That meant more work for my friend. But he is very fit, rarely tires and was a mountaineer in a past life. 

The sections were duly delivered but my friend discovered there was no greenhouse floor. He, being a quick thinker with an eye for a bargain, asked what the piece of wood was that was next to the shed and greenhouse sections on the back of his lorry.

Driver: ‘Oh that’s packing material.’

My friend: ‘Can we have a sheet as a floor for the greenhouse?’

Driver: ‘I don’t see why not. It’ll only go for scrap.’

Within minutes the driver had left to deliver another substandard shed to the Forest of Dean and my friend was raiding a skip for a doormat and blocks to use as a step into the greenhouse-to-be. 

As the concrete base had already been made I asked a young person I know if he could help assemble the greenhouse and next day the two men were in the top garden messing about with silicon sealant, nails, screws drills and polycarbonate windows. And no the pieces did not fit well together, yes there were gaps and it was a very cold Thursday in January. 

By mid afternoon I ordered them takeaway fish n chips as they’d been out there in the cold for ours. It was still lockdown and only takeaway service was available. And it was dark at 5 pm. So they sat with their fish n chips in the cold while I dished mine up on real plates. They didn’t come inside the house. It wasn’t wise and none of us were jabbed by then. 

But by the Saturday evening we had a greenhouse. Hoozah! It was then that the problems really started. So much sealant was needed to glue the sides together. The condensation was dreadful and the greenhouse window would not open. Then when it allowed itself to be prized open it would not shut. 

Should I have bought a more expensive greenhouse? Probably. But, as I write, it has grown my petunia plants, all my climbing and dwarf beans and is now producing sweet red tomatoes. Not all bad then. 

Next time I will write about the arrival of the shed. Not quite as exotic as the the arrival of the magi but it was an impressive bit of kit. 

Stay safe. And adieu till next time.

 

Applause for the pause

It has been a couple of months since my last blog. I - along with a friend or two - have been busy transforming part of my garden. Applause for the pause and more of that later. 

For all of us 15 months of lockdown, changing habits, using sanitiser, masks and contactless payments, standing a metre or two apart and joshing for supermarket delivery slots have altered us. I haven’t had the strain of home-schooling, nor working from home with a dodgy signal nor with bored children needing a lot of attention. I haven’t had to travel to work on a crowded bus, train or tube. But I am a carer. And I don’t watch football or tennis from the terraces. 60,000 spectators are due to watch the next round of our fabulous football team versus Denmark at Wembley on Wednesday but what of the covid risk? 

‘We are all spectators in a giant human health experiment.’

More prosaically I have chosen to go to friends, usually meeting in their gardens or in a conservatory, to outdoor cafeterias or to a carers’ cafe. But I haven’t gone anywhere with crowds. When I go for a swim I walk there through the city. Bath’s Pulteney Bridge has become very crowded  since the April lockdown restrictions were lifted. Traffic is back to its usual heavy self but the walk to my swim is along a lovely Georgian boulevard, up an incline and into a fairly spacious changing room in a hotel. Residential hotel guests are asked to change in their rooms meaning our changing area is for us - the members of the spa club. Fairly safe in terms of social distancing. 

I have, in the main, been able to keep my distance during lockdown but with rising cases owing to the delta variant of covid I am inclined to continue wearing my face mask and sanitising frequently whatever Bojo announces for the July 19th lifting of restrictions. 

But back to the garden. Since January friends and I have transformed an area at the top of the garden which was formerly just gravel with a few raised beds. It now has a greenhouse, a new substantial potting shed, three water butts with new guttering and the raised beds are truly raised. They are on legs! As I write my dwarf beans are in flower, the leeks are still thin but not still like strands of green hair, the climbing beans are climbing, spuds are flowering, the cabbages are getting fat and a few pea plants are growing strong. The rest have had it. But I never promised you a pea garden.

Beans are my thing! 

Next time I write I will tell you of the triumphs and frustrations of my more recent gardening life. Especially now I’m waiting for an op. on my knee. Just like Roger Federer. I have yet to get the deckchairs on the lawn this year. That tells you something! 

Adieu.

Bye for now.