More about Seeds

If you are like me then somewhere in the back of the cupboard will be a box of seed packets labelled good intentions. Just what it is about those colourful sachets of promise I'm not sure but then who can resist a pretty picture, or as Monty Don once said ' seed packets are like book covers, we browse through them and buy on a whim'. Last year I had a clear out and started afresh, this year, with an order for 33  different packets from Kings Seeds (who on earth has the room to grow that many vegetables) and they are still being added to. The temptation is awful as there are six major seed companies all sending colourful brochures to me as well as a plethora of small ones offering unusual or heritage seeds. Just how many there are in the U.K I do not know but a trawl of the Internet found a U.S site listing no fewer than 63.

 

The first illustrated seed catalogue was published in 1730 so I guess there has always been keen gardeners about, and in 1904 one catalogue listed on fewer than 170 different peas, 145 cabbage, 74 onion and 58 beet, but then it was the heyday of kitchen gardens. I suspect many were similar or even the same in the way we may call it kale or turnip here and borecole and rutabaga elsewhere.

 

I got to thinking about all this because, just at the minute, I'm finding  germination rates a little erratic. It seems sometimes I need to sow twice what I need to get half what I want. Now there can be many reasons for that, it can be too wet or too dry, or too cold, today's temperature for instance would be normal for late January. But it can also be that the seed is not viable. Way back 1852 the Gardeners Journal accused seed merchants of mixing dead seed with live and in 1866 an RHS committee reported that seed was adulterated, stored too long, dyed and oiled to look good and in trials, germination rates were as low as 28/100.

 

Thank goodness for trading standards and the EU,or not if you're looking for heritage seed. Their pig headed insistence on uniformity has meant that only approved strains can be sold legally. This was a big problem for the Heligan Project when it came to restoring the kitchen garden and growing the sort of vegetables grown before the First World War took all its young men to an early grave in Flanders. Fortunately men with more commonsense that the common market got round the problem by saving heritage varieties and giving the seed through various associations and societies such as the HDRA at Royton. As Tim Smit says in the forward to The Heligan Vegetable Bible 'It is ironic that a productive tradition began on the large estates should have been dependent in large part on allotment holders for its presavation'.

 

So what of the seed we buy. It may not be a surprise to learn that our climate in the UK today is not exactly conducive to seed production. According to Kings Seeds a three acre field of sweet peas in a good year will produce 1.5 tons of seed but in 2002 that entire crop was lost. Now most of the seed they sell is grown in either southern Europe or South America, and I guess that must the same for the others. At Kings each batch from abroad is tested  for germination and purity in their laboratory and given a number, that number then stays with it to the point of sale.

 

On balance the failure of any of my seed to germinate is down to me, but Oh! the magic when it does. I'll leave you with this thought from the garden writer Anna Pavord, 'seed sowing is an essential rite of passage for the gardener'.

 

Spring has Srung

 

Suddenly one morning you wake up, pull back the curtains and can not believe what you see. Instead of winter dread there is instead stunningly clear blue sky and grass so green it dazzles the eye the same way the petals of celandine seem to reflect pure sunshine. Somehow despite my best efforts it always comes as a surprise (rather like Christmas always came as a surprise to Royal Mail (a story for another time)). and despite it being early days mild panic sets in. Am I ready? But first I would like to take you back to last year.

 

On the 11th October 2012 I signed the tenancy agreement on a second plot at the Ranmore Allotments (plot 75). Now this is no big deal as they are all 5 rods so another just gives me the same as a standard plot elsewhere. Its just that at the last AGM of the the Dorking Allotment Holders Association, or DAHA for short, one crusty old allotmenteer happened to say 'half a plot, not worth the bother' and I happened to agree with him. The only trouble now seemed to be just how was I going to turn 150 square yards of waist high weeds into growing space ready for the spring in the appalling wet Autumn of that year. I had already decided that this new plot was to be the fruit in 'fruit and veg' and I even had a plan. This might seem obvious but plot 59 was conceived without one, the lack of which became obvious as that first growing season progressed. It now follows a traditional pattern and is so much easier.


plot 75

Fruit can be in the ground for 10 years or more so each bed needed double digging not only to ensure fertility but also to remove all weeds, as far as that is possible! Once the beds were marked out at 1.2m wide running north/south with access all round of at least 70cm (some beds were doubled with a 40cm path between) the surface was scalped and the turfs stacked upside down to compost for future use. Now the slow laborious task of digging began to remove the roots of perennial weeds (bags of them) which was made even harder in the rain. That's when I realised I'm not getting any younger, or my back did, and that old saying ' what a gardener needs is an iron back with a hinge in it' came to mind. The solution came by fitting a long handle to my digging spade, which must seem obvious to anyone living outside of the UK, but here in old blighty they are just not seen. Less bending and more leverage spurred me on to finish all the digging by March.

Frames were erected for the raspberries (Autumn Bliss) and blackberries (Merton Thornless) and bare rooted currant (Versailles/Red Lake/Wellington/Ben Conon) and gooseberry (Invicta/Careless/Hinnomaki Red) bushes. Rhubarb crowns (not technically a fruit but used as one) of unknown variety because they came from other plots, went in at the very end, and pumpkin bed along the fence line got ready. This was as acknowledgement to the previous occupant, Alister, who is Dorkin's 'Pumpkin Guru' and organiser of the the towns annual pumpkin show. Worth a story of his own! There will also be strawberries but as they are best planted in the autumn they can wait.

What will need dealing with are the paths which I did not dig and still contain all the nasties that are a problem on any allotment site, sow thistle, dandelion, lesser columbine and couch grass to name but a few. I reckon to dig those over during the summer but as they also contain bluebells and cuckoos pint I will try to be selective, finally, is what to do about the rabbits. They mostly stay the other side of the fence, in the community orchard (part of Transition Dorking) but during the double part of my digging I kept finding their burrows and on one occasion the fork almost disappeared into a chamber that must have been used for nesting. The bucket loads of stone that went into the holes may hinder them but I doubt will stop them and as much as I'm partial to a rabbit pie I would sooner they were not getting fat eating what I've planted.

Well, am I ready? Yes I am. Seedlings are emerging before my eyes and some have been planted out already with more sowings to ensure succession. Everything is looking good with fewer pests due to the cold winter and the prospect of a bumper year to make up for last years failures.
 

 

SOWING SEEDS

 

Well they say that March comes in like a lion and leaves like a lamb but this particular lion has dug its claws in and is most definitely refusing to go, but how we wish we could get going and do some sowing. The trouble is that just at the moment the soil temperature is too low to get anything to germinate. We know this because commonsense says so, but it is said that in the past farmers would drop their breeches and sit on the soil to test just how warm it was, or is that one of those factoids you here about? Probably. Anyway now days we have fancy digital probes that can tell to a tenth degree so there is no excuse, but we still try out of pure optimism. It is worth remembering though that seeds will only germinate at their minimum soil temperature, so where a radish will germinate at 4C, broccoli will need 10C, and tomato 18C. All is not lost, as we sit looking out the window at another snow flurry, and the possibility of a white Easter, because it is possible to get ahead of the weather by sowing under cover.

I have become a great believer in modules and except for carrots and parsnips start everything off in them. I also have a greenhouse, which I have to say is an essential for large scale sowing, but many find a window sill works just as well. I am also thrifty, tell me a gardener who is not!, so my modules can be simple in the extreme. The basic module is nothing more than a paper tube formed around the off cut from a kitchen waste pipe and held together with a single staple. I've found that twelve of these tubes will fit comfortably in a 2ltr ice cream tub, a good reason for putting ice cream on the shopping list. Bigger modules can be recycled pots, the sort you find in bins outside of garden centres, and soft spread tubs for sowing small amounts for transplanting when big enough for their own module. Remember to drill holes for drainage.

Next thing to consider is compost. Bought compost is fine, after all if you calculate that most seeds take 7-10 days to germinate and may be growing for four weeks until big enough to plant out, the six weeks of nourishment commercial compost state on the bag will do nicely. Myself, I like to use my own compost. It has been maturing for the last 12 months in those plastic darleks, they sell through the council cheap, and is now lovely crumbly and brown. To this is added leaf mould which  has been open to the elements for the last twelve months, and sieved to get best out. The rest goes back for another year. Lastly, sharp sand is added for drainage. It is mixed in a ratio of two parts compost, one part leaf mould and one part sharp sand.

With the paper tubes, first put a small amount of the mix in and ram tight with a suitable tool, mine is a piece of dowel that by luck is just the right size. This forms the base of  my module so the compost will not flow out the bottom when lifted. Next fill to the top and lightly tamp down leaving 1cm for the seed. Place two seeds on top and then loosely cover to the top and water well. That should be all the water it needs but if it does get dry in the greenhouse, even in March the temperature will reach 28-30C when the sun shines, water from the bottom. Two ice cream tubs will sit in a seed tray and if you line with plastic will make a nice little reservoir for the water. Label your tub and cover with value range cling film and wait for the magic to happen. If both seeds germinate, well you can pull out the weakest, but waste not want not I'm just as likely to transplant it to a spare tube.

This year I'm trying out soil blocks. I came across them in a book by Eliot Coleman called 'The New Organic Grower' (chapter 13) and was intrigued to find that the moulds he used were made in England by a company called Ladbrooke and sold here through the website www.blackberrylane.co.uk. Basically they are cubes of compressed soil/compost mix that have a depression in the top for the seed. They suggest leaving the seed open to the air as oxygen aids its development and water using a spray mist. The principle is the same as my paper tubes in that the seedling can be planted out without disturbing the roots but the blocking mix is different requiring peat to hold it together. The recipe can be found in the book (1st & 2nd editions) or on the website, but as they are all different in some way Ive done my own thing. I have also made my own blocker out of scrap that end up in shed 'because they may come in useful sometime' and guidance from Youtube. Isn't the web wonderful.

My last tip come from Monty Don and Daphne Ledward and cover garlic and onion/shallot sets. I know these can be planted in the Autumn but last time I did that it was so wet they rotted so now the garlic is started in pots and planted in March, thank you Monty, and the sets are placed in trays of damp compost until they have a good root system. When the time comes to plant out the compost just falls away and they can be planted into shallow drills with the earth being pulled back over the roots. There is less likely hood of birds pulling them out or roots pushing them out and they will mature just a quickly as autumn sets, so thank you Daphne.










 

                 

To Dig or not To Dig

Whether to dig or not can be a subject of much heated debate, and that's not just the spade work! Whatever the opinion it does start with digging of some sort and there are good reasons why preperation is everything.

On Ranmore I have found just about everything you can expect from a site used for fly tipping for seven years. Asbestos, glass of all sorts (auto, plate, bottle), plastic and metal (car parts, electrical fittings, tin cans). You name it and I have found it, and this was after the site was cleared and ploughed. No dougt as time goes by more will come to the surface, but by digging I think I've got the worst  of it out and will be more confident about sticking my hands in without worrying if my tetanus jab is up to date.

The next hurdle are those perennial weeds with the ridculously long roots that insist on colonising waste ground, such as nettle, thistle, and that horror, creeping cinquefoil that snaps in two to grow again. If they were a crop my five rods would prductive indeed. Dig them out! and even if they do'nt stay out at least they know they are not welcome.

 

The two tools for digging are the spade and fork (the latter suprisingly only coming into use in the 1860's). They both have offset handles and are pushed into the soil with the blade/tines vertical, leaving the handle leaning away from you. This gives tremendous leverage as you pull back, and with minimum effort, turn and throw the sod forward. Or if it's wet - a lot of effort! One tip old time gardeners used when the soil stuck to the spade was a wooden scrapper they called a 'minute killer' as it gave them a chance for a breather. I use an old paint scapper.

 

 

 

 

Double Digging  This is pretty heavy stuff and done a bit at a time on part of the plot each year won't be too painful - on the back! Dig a trench one spit (length of blade) deep and two feet wide, moving the soil to end of the area to be dug. Now use the digging fork to loosen the subsoil (again to a spit) but do not bring it up or mix it with the topsoil. This will break up the pan that tends to form in compacted soil and allow the to get in and water to drain more easily. Throw into the trench a layer of organic matter and then start another trench two feet wide throwing the soil into the first. You continue like this - slowly - until the last trench is filled with the soil moved from the first trench. Once done you should never have to do it again, hurray.

 





Single Digging  With this you dig one spit down but only one foot wide and as before place the soil at the end of the digging area. Leave the subsoil as it is but again add organic material to the trench turning the next trench over it. If you have enough material throw some on top and continue in this fashion till the task is done. I feel it is important to stress that you should not over do any digging to the point of exhaustion. A steady rhythm with plenty of stops for a chats, or just to stand and stare, can  be quite satisfying. 'What a gardener needs is an iron back with a hinge in it'

 

No Digging  Now of course, if you do not want to dig then don't. It is a perfectly valid method of cultivation, and popular if you are going organic. You can let the worms do the work for you providing they have enough material to work with. Five centimeters, or two inches, will do the trick, spred evenly over the plot. On five rods that equates to seven cubic meters! Plant through it and sit back, easy.

 

Raised Beds  This could well be the happy medium that we are looking for. I use them at home for the crops the kitchen needs most, and I have to say I'm rather fond of them.They have been around for a very long time, the Romans brought them to Britain, and as long as you never walk on the bed it needs no digging other to plant or lift your crops. For this reason the bed is never wider than 1.2m and no longer than is convenient to walk round with sides, usually timber, about 20cm high. The growing area therefore is compact so compost goes where it's needed, as does the water. Beds can be covered for protection from pests or warmed in spring to get an early start. before you start it is usual to double dig it (those pesky perennials) and add lots of compost. Even then it seems to take a lot to fill, so why not rob the paths os topsoil, after all you'r not going to grow anything on them, and replace with woodchips. Simple.

 

Deep Beds  Rather like raised this one only without sides but dug deep. Again the idea is never to walk on them so the dimensions are the same as the raised beds but when you double dig the compost is mixed right down to the bottom. It should give you a good 50-60cm growing depth and perfect for those parsnips, but it's a kind of obscure method now days and hardly worth it. Before I leave I'd just like to mention something that was practiced in the kitchen gardens of old, trench digging. It was a three man job where they dug a trench three feet wide and three spits deep, and they did this every seven years! Was labour cheap then or what.

 

Lazy Beds  Another ancient method of cultivation anywhere the topsoil is thin and impoverished. In our green and pleasant land this usually ment the Highlands and Islands of Scotland. There it was typical for the crofter to collect seaweed from the shore and pile it in ribbons in his rocky field. Then using a Cas Chrom (or foot plough in English) turn what soil he had over the top grass side down. Into this was planted whatever crop was going to feed the family through the long winter. This simple and clever adaptation to harsh local conditions has spontaiously happened throughout the world and across the millenia. Clever little devils arn.t we! On a more serious note this technique could work quite well with a plot that is overgrown with little effort. Forget the seaweed and go down the stables!

 

Stale Beds  So you've done the digging bit, raked it to a fine tilth, sown the seeds, and now you can't see the cabbages for the weeds. That's because most weeds are annuals and survive by producing truly vast amounts of seed each year. They will out compete our veggies every time, so prepare the beds a couple of weeks before and cover with clear plastic or fleece. A nice cosy bed is just what the weeds are waiting for, and off they grow. When you are ready to sow the cabbages remove the plastic and hoe the weeds off. Not too deep mind or your likely to bring up there friends.

 

And Finally  I came across a lovely description in a book by Harry Dodson about the way old country men planted thier spuds in years gone by. In those days of sixty hour weeks and working under the parish lantern, the traditional planting day was Good Friday as it was the only day off they had at the right time of year. They would dig a trench and put in manure then go back pulling soil down from the dug side to form a ledge where each potato was to grow. Next was to mark a point two feet back and dig to it covering the potatoes and repeat the process again. Of course the spacings varied according to the varieties, early or main crop, but you can see how quicly they could cultivate and plant in one go.

 

Techno Luddite

If you are reading this then we have both pressed the right keys in the right order and therefore can claim to be technos. However, it seems strange to me that whilst we embrace this wonderful world of technology we also love to engage in a pastime that can be totally free of it. So is it good or bad?

 

Dorking is a quaint little market town with some odd ways about it. Full of small independent stores it feels no need to open much before 9.30am and sometimes shut up at 5.30pm if trade is poor. 10 years ago it still had an early closing day! but it can boast an old fashioned ironmongers at which I purchased my onion sets from the sack. 100 each of Red Barron and Stetton which were duly weighed on an old balance scale and paid for. It seemed a bit light for the price but we rely on trust so you can imagine my chagrin when weighed at home it came up a whole kilo less. Was I annoyed - yes, but also philosophical as they were still very much cheaper than down the garden centre and I had picked the best ones myself.

 

We also have in Dorking a Friday market. The greengrocer stall is always very popular and standing in line to pay for a small item I marvel at the mental agility of the stallholder as he calculates the price per kilo for each vegetable (this time on electronic scales) whilst keeping a running total in his head of the final bill. When the lady in front left with four bags of veg she had paid a whopping £50+. Now maybe growing our own has blunted our perception of the true cost of things - had it not been for the appalling harvest last year.

 

At a supermarket near us they have introduced hand scanners so you do not need to queue at the checkout and with no veg in these hungry months I found myself scanning and weighing a weeks worth of vegetables (two bags) that came to just over £14. Now of course you'll be saying the market veg are fresher and better had not the small item I'd purchased been a 'lover-ly ripe pineapple' that still had the label of a notorious supermarket, that is know to reject deliveries if not perfect, beginning with 'T'.

 

The bakers dozen (13) is an old term that ensured you got full weight when buying bread, the penalties were severe on any baker selling underweight. Even now with technology the trading standard officer will still go round checking scales, and had it not been for technology we would never have known that those beef pies we were eating were in fact horse.

 

 In conclusion technology is good and I embrace it wholeheartedly but I'll still dig my plot with a spade!

 

Train of thought

 

 

You knew something was coming from the faint whistle. It sounded familiar, like an echo from the past, an almost lost memory. There it was again, sounding closer, and you straightened to catch it on the wind. Yes, it was a steam train, like the ones from our childhood, the ones we rode on to London or our holidays, those icons of nostalgia that mean so much to us as we get older.

The whistle was a warning of the many footpaths that cross the Reading to Redhill line. With the last one came a vibration that made the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. It roared into view, the A1 Pacific 'Tornado' pulling old cream and crimson coaches, and suddenly it was gone. What wonder, what bliss, you  now know how Toad felt in Wind in the Willows, sitting in the middle of the road watching the automobile disappear in a cloud of dust murmuring 'poop-poop'.

It occured to me as I stood leaning on my hoe that in years gone by how many old allotmenteers had witnessed what I had just seen, though perhaps with not such a grand locomotive. It gave me a strong sense of connection.

Not far from the allotment and just below the National Trust car park on Ranmore Common is a view looking west, beyond Landbarn Farm, along that same length of railway line. What I see must be similar if not the same as anyone standing here when it opened in 1849.

We are rooted in the landscape and by virtue of that have a real connection with the land we live on. Most of us could probably go back just two or three generations to find an ancestor that lived from or on the land. Sometimes it can be a hard thing to get the dirt from beneath our finger nails and maybe for the sake of our children's future we should not try.

 

Year of the slug

 

 

I have just looked back over my gardening diary for 2012 ( yes I know, sad is'nt it) and just realised what a truly awful year it was. A sort  of Anno Horibilis, as Queenie would say, for veg growers in the U.K.

It started all right, in fact for the first 3 months we had a drought leading to a hosepipe ban in April. The temperature was well up too, bringing on the blossom much earlier than it should, which then of course was hit by the frosts. Result, no pears no plums and about 15 apples. Great show for my little orchard.

Of course as soon as the hosepipe ban started so did the rain (it's sods law apparently) and then did'nt stop. For slugs it was like winning the lottery, and did they party! caution was thrown to the wind and without any protection whatsoever they multiplied in a hedonistic orgy (in one 10 minute foray after dark with a torch 54 three in monsters were dispatched with grievous bodily harm). The trouble was just about everything else intent on making hay did just as well.

After two sowings of carrot failed to show I put in plugs of beetroot, swede and cabbage carefully nurtured in the greenhouse and were much appreciated by the flea beetle which turned them into a sort of green colander. Potatoes, long a staple on the plot, have been difficult in recent years with the blight becoming part of our altered climate. This year even my sound spuds were turning to mush in the sack, so were given away before it became a total loss. Strangely the corn did well and would have been a good harvest if the mice had not decided it would be fun to nibble a small hole in the base of each cob. That in turn was like a calling card to every Magpie in the district (I counted 13 in a tree nearby)  to come and strip back the husk? and devour the unripe corn. A third sowing of carrot after the potatoes were lifted grew well and promised at least something from the plot, which was just what the rats thought as well. All that was left were the scattered tops and a small depression where they had scraped the earth back. Their distinctive trails led across three plots before disappearing into a compost heap - thanks a bunch pal.

For those who still deny global warming here are a few facts and figures gleaned from the web. Despite all the rain, 2012 (1330.7mm)  was not the wettest year on record (records began in 1910), that was 2000 (1337.3mm) . Four of the five wettest years on record have been since 2000 and over the last 30 years we have seen a 5% increase in rainfall. Call me silly but that does suggest there is something going on!!!