2022 Gardener’s Logbook

Posted on December 14, 2022 by Annette

Another year has left its traces in our lives, some of those traces have been even more unexpected than the ones left by the two previous years.

Some of our hellebores have been in bloom since December. They are wonderful companions during the not so colourful months of the year.

16 April: the circular bed on early spring

The daffodils in the centre of the circular bed are amongst the first in spring to bloom, followed closely by the fluffy Warminster broom. The white daffodils always come a little later than the yellow ones.

This year was bit of a challenge for the lavender crescent. There was not so much rain and the lavender has not been planted here that long ago. In autumn it turned out that cockchafer grubs had made themselves comfortable within the roots of some of the lavender plants happily chewing away on them.

This is the first of our standard medlar trees. We consider ourselves lucky in that we came across three of them. Nurseries normally offer cultivars of medlars and those cultivars usually would be grafted on rootstock of hawthorn. These three standard trees appear to not be grafted onto a rootstock but seem to be grown from seedlings. Medlars are rooting deeply in the soil so once established they can cope with dry periods. We planted the first one in late April, not expecting to see another year with less-than-average rain during the season. Despite regular watering it took until summer before the tree at last showed growth and we knew it had settled in and started to send its roots down. The two others were planted in autumn.

28 April: the circular bed in late spring – Warminster broom in bloom

The Warminster broom at its best. The whole bush is humming with bees and bumble bees and the sparrows love to play hide&seek in it.

During the two lockdown years we unearthed just over 12 tons of rubble in the plot behind the former pig stable and created a bed for our rhododendrons there. Meanwhile the bushes have settled in really well. Cunningham’s Snow White has replaced Whitestone, which gave up for whatever reason. Bernstein has recovered after having been rather poorly.

We planted the shuttlecock fern with the rhododendrons. The place is the only spot that provides shade at least for some hours in the day. It is north of the old pig stable so the shadow of the small building falls on to the bed.

25 May: Centaurea montana – perennial cornflower

This is a moment when the drought had not struck yet. There are rhododendrons in bloom and granny’s bonnets and sage and oriental poppies – plus the roses are just starting to show off.

11 June: Percy & Albert, the Galahs from Australia

In June the door bell rang and there was the postie with a huge parcel. Out came, securely packed, Albert & Percy, the two Galahs or pink and grey cockatoos. My dear friend Marianne from Bendigo in Australia had made them as a big big surprise for me. Marianne has been crocheting all sorts of animals lately. She had told me about the turtle and the penguin and a huge owl and the little snails – but she never revealed she was working on those two fellows. Here they sit in front of the paeony and have a look around the garden, nibbling some grass. They are now good company in the studio. Thank you, Marianne!

11 June: Echium with visitor (see image on the very top of this page)

Purple salsify or Oyster plants are biennial. I had sown around half a dozen this spring to have them in bloom next summer. Unfortunately they turned out to be to the liking of our resident root vole and it ate them one by one and left not a single one. So we won’t see any of those flowers in 2023.

Hover flies often look like wasps. This is what is called mimikry: the flies try to look dangerous while being totally harmless. The adult insects are a treasure as pollinators and in many species their larvae prey on insect pests like aphids (green and black flies) and leafhoppers. A number of species do service in biological pest control, not just by feeding on insect pests. On doing so they also reduce the risk of cultivated plants getting infected by diseases spread by aphids or other insect pests. Some larvae live in aquatic environments and can purify water. Hover flies can be attracted by planting a lot of flowers. They particularly love yellow, but will also go for parsley, chamomille and buckwheat. In our garden they are regulars on all the roses with open flowers like Jacqueline du Pres, beach rose, burnet rose, dog rose and field rose – all the basic hedge rose species.

28 June: wild carrot – hover fly approaching

Wild carrots usually have white flowers, some have a hue of pink, many a single almost black flower in the centre. This special individual turned out burgundy. We collected some of the seeds and will try to grow more of them next year – permit they turn out the same colour.

2022 was not a perfect year for growing beans. In spring the nights remained pretty cold for a long time, something beans are not so fond of: they want the soil having warmed after winter for germination. Thus they started growing rather late, and then got hit by the prolonged dry period. Despite regular watering the harvest was less than last year.

17 August: Elderberry with Wanderer’s Joy

Our pear tree “Geishirtle” was as full with pears as it possibly could be. And the fruit were delicious beyond words.

4 September: wild carrot with shield bugs (Graphosoma italicum)

The wild carrots have made themselves very at home in our garden. They are lovely when in bloom, but I like their seed heads best. They will curl inwards to shelter the seeds for the time when the ripen. Once the seeds are ready to be dispersed the curled in baskets open up again. In the meantime the shield bugs decorate the delicate structure.

Our pear tree “Gute Luise” provided a nice harvest, too. The standard tree has been planted in autumn 2016.
The bumper crop came from the plum trees that have been here long before we moved in. We took down kilo after kilo. I cooked them into jam and various sorts of tasty chutney.

This is a dream come true: in autumn we planted a Turkish hazel. For quite some time we had been considering having one of those trees. It is a standard tree and will gradually grow into a proper tree with a slender crown. It is drought resistant and should be able to cope well with a climate changing towards more heat and less rain, while still being fully hardy.

Our apple “Goldparmäne” is a half standard tree and has started bearing fruit last year. The apples are tasty and spotless while still somewhat small.

In October we acquired a bucket full of mycorrhiza. We vaccinated the soil around the roots of our trees with this mixture of fungi. If all goes as planned this will make it easier for the tree to grow in the poor sandy soil we have. We were lucky in that this autumn the soil remained warm for quite long so the mycorrhiza fungi could spread and grow nicely before winter came.

It was another year of many quinces though not quite as many as last year. We have now discovered a few more possibilities to use quinces, one is a very fruity chicken curry.

Elaeagnus x submacrophylla (formerly known as E. x ebbingei) is a hybrid between macrophylla and pungens. It is evergreen in mild conditions, in our garden it might shed its leaves in spring when the new ones appear. In February 2021 it froze almost totally back during a cold spell of around -20 degrees. Miraculously it started growing back in summer 2021 and has recovered within just a year. Like Hippophae (Buckthorn), the genus Elaeagnus is known to live in association with diazotroph microorganisms (Frankia from the group of actinomycetes), that collect nitrogen from air and thus improve soil quality. In places Elaeagnus is planted within orchards to improve the performance of the fruit trees by rising Nitrogen levels in the soil and thus providing natural fertilizer.

As to vegetables there is more to come next year: we decided to prepare a new bed for vegetables and discontinue one that has been not so much fun to work in due to a mass of very small rubble in there. It is bits and pieces of roof tiles, but the bits are so small that it is virtually impossible to sort them out of the soil. We will use this bed for sunflowers to make a feast for the goldfinches.

As I write this we brave for a night of -11 degrees. It is mid December and unusually cold for the time of year. Here we have no snow at all and some of our kale is not amused about the freeze. The Siberian variety is happy (after having suffered in the 30 degrees of summer and then made a full recovery). But the Galizian variety very much looks like this sort of cold is not to its liking at all. The little birds keep raiding the feeders. The woodpeckers are back for food. And we all hope for some more moderate temperatures rather sooner than later.

Know how many beans make five.

Posted on April 22, 2022 by Annette

You can do a wealth of good to our climate, the soils and all those little pollinators around by simply eating beans. And if you even opt to top this: grow the beans yourself. This is easy going: in your garden, in your raised bed or even on your balcony. Beans have been grown by humans for thousends of years and are one of the oldest crops we have. And soon comes the perfect time to sow them.

Why is eating beans good for the climate? Beans are very rich in protein. They are high in nutritional value for whoever eats them. If we eat them ourselves, all the nutrition and energy value can be used by our own body. If we feed the beans to cattle, poultry or pigs, all the nutritional and energy value will be used by those animals. From the beans they eat they will built bones and skin, hooves and teeth, hair, feathers and keep up their body temperature, some of what they eat will go as poo & pee, and only what ist left they will turn into steaks or sausages respectively.

Climbing beans flowering visited by common brimstone butterfly (Gonepteryx rhamni)

Thus on the way of producing steaks or sausages the animals use up some of the nutritional value for themselves. So, the steaks and sausages will come with a lower energy level than the beans had in the first place. Add to this: while growing steaks and sausages the pigs and cattle produce greenhouse gases like CO2.Thus, eating the beans ourselves means we can make use of the whole of the energy contained in the beans and we‘ll save some of the greenhouse gases otherwise produced by the life stock.

What about the soil? Beans are special in that they are team players. They do not just grow on their own. They team up with special bacteria. The roots of the beans grow tiny bumps for the bacteria to live in. Thus sheltered the bacteria thankfully take up Nitrogen from the surrrounding air, turn it into fertilizer, and share it with the bean plant. This is the reason why you do not need to give your beans the sort and amount of fertilizer other plants desperately need: the beans make their own, well: they have it made by their little friends. Since producing artificial fertilizers uses up a lot of energy and thus produces a great amount of green house gases, growing crops that do not need such fertilizers comes in handy when trying to keep one’s CO2 footstep small.

But the beans do not stop at giving their bacteria a home to start fix nitrogen from thin air, so to speak. They also feed all sorts of pollinators: butterflies and bees and bumblebees, to name but a few. Beans‘ flowers are white or colourful red, pink or violet and come with pollen and nectar.

Unless you are dealing with Broad Beans, wait with sowing until the soil has warmed up a bit after winter. In not particularly mild regions this would be mid May. The period of 12-15 May in some years brings a last frosty spell of weather in the Northern Hemisphere: called the Ice Saints („Eisheilige“). Here a good rule of thumb is to sow your beans after the last of the Ice Saints has passed, which would be Cold Sophia („Kalte Sophie“) on 15 May. In cold soil the beans will just not germinate but sit and wait. Being patient and sowing a little later will be thanked by quicker growth of the plants. So there is no need to put the seeds out too early. Once the plants start to bring out their flowers they need enough moisture in the soil. In dry periods they will need to be watered regularly but do not soak them.
Often beans are sown every 10 or so days to ensure a longer harvest. Read the instructions on the sachet of the variety you have chosen and then have a gow. With a couple of seasons of practice you will know which variety wants which sort of treatment in your location.

One special method of cultivating beans is the „Three Sisters“ method traditionally used in regions of South America. Here beans, maize and squash are grown together. The maize will give the support to the beans and the pumpkin leaves will cover the soil to keep the moisture in.

Climbing beans with maize (corn) as support

My experience is, that this is a pretty good way to cultivate the three, if you opt for dry beans, maize for starch, i.e. flour, and pumpkins for pumpkins. This means you plant all three, and let them grow undisturbed throughout summer, until the beans and the corn cobs are fully ripe and dry. Then you harvest them all in virtually one go. You then have the beans and maize for storage and winter food. If you wish to pick green beans for vegetables and sweet corn to nibble, it will be hard to harvest them, since the „Three Sisters“ will grow to something resembling a small forest.

Broad beans
These are the only ones sown really early: the seeds can be sown outdoors from February onwards. They do not mind cold weather, even frost, and by the time the warm days start bringing in blackflies the stems will have grown a thicker skin and won‘t be so easily infected by those aphids. Broad Beans produce large pods and the seeds are big too. They can be used for stews („Eintöpfe“), for stir fry dishes and salads, and can be very aromatic.

Green bean:
Green beans differ in that one group is climbing and needs poles and the other growing as little bushes with no need of support. In each group there is a wealth of varieties. Flowers can be white or bright red, pods can be green, blue to purple or green with red stripes, and seeds will be anything from white, pink, dark red to brown and speckled, either huge or small.

Dry beans: Borlotto on top, varieties of the Scarlett runner bean bottom left & right.

Often the blue or purple pods will turn green during cooking. And cook they must, uncooked beans are poisonous. After cooking green beans make a lovely vegetable dish and can be made into very nice summer salads.
Some of the beans grow fibrous pods, i.e. they are not so much fun to eat as vegetables dish because of the long and rather sturdy fibers. Those varieties are better left to produce dry beans. In the northern parts of Germany these fibrous pods traditionally are made into a regional speciality called „Schnippelbohnen“ – in some respect this dish is a bit like Marmite: either love it or hate it.
Dry beans make lovely stews („Eintöpfe“) and of course the white varieties are needed for Baked Beans. And they can be made into phantastic salads, too.

The bean‘s cousins: peas and lentils
Peas, Mangetouts and lentils are also members of the larger bean family, so to speak. They are all of the Fabaceae family and come with their Nitrogen fixing bacteria. Their seeds are rich in protein and they can be used for a great number of tasty meals.

Peas
Contrary to beans peas like it cool. They won‘t do well in hot, dry and tropical conditions. They come in climbing or vining varieties and in low-growing, their pods are mostly green, but there are purple ones, too. The seeds are either green or yellow. Some are mange-tout, meaning they can be eaten in whole while the seeds inside the pods are still small. Others are „sweet peas“ where the seeds only are eaten. They can be eaten fresh as vegetables and, another difference to beans, they can be eaten uncooked. The fresh peas cooked are lovely vegetable and go perfectly with Shepherd’s Pie. Alternatively they can be harvested for dry peas – which was the original use since medieval times – and then make lovely soups and stews.

Lentils
One more cousin of the bean is the lentil. These are delicate plants with tiny but very beautiful flowers. They need some support otherwise they will lie on the floor and felter when getting wet. Some people grow them together with oats, so the oat stems give the support to the lentils. Lentils are known to improve soil quality which very likely might be due to them having their own nitrogen-fixing bacteria, as have all members of the Fabaceae.

The seeds of lentils come in a great variety of colours from brown, multicoloured or marbled to red and bright yellow. They make lovely soups, salads, curry dishes and stews. They are very common in oriental regions as well as in India and Africa. But they are also well known in the Mediterranean and in European regions north of the Alps. Probably THE traditional dish in Swabia is „Linsen mit Spätzle“, a lentil soup with – originally – handmade spätzle, seasoned with vinegar. Spätzle are made from a dough (eggs, water, flower and salt) and traditionally are scraped with a knife from a special wooden board straight into slightly boiling water. A couple of years ago in the region of the Swabian Alb Mountains the cultivation of „Alb Leisa“ (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Alb-Leisa) has been taken up again, a cultivar that has typically been used for this traditional dish in Swabia.

Supplier for organic vegetable seeds in Germany are:

Bingenheimer Saatgut AG, Kronstraße 24, 61209 Echzell, www.bingenheimersaatgut.de

Dreschflegel Bio-Saatgut, In der Aue 31, 37213 Witzenhausen,
www.dreschflegel-saatgut.de

Information and seeds of traditional and endangered cultivars provides
VEN Verein zur Erhaltung der Nutzpflanzenvielfalt e. V.: www.nutzpflanzenvielfalt.de

Crimson clover (Trifolium incarnatum) another member of the Fabaceae tribe – good for the soil (with nitrogen fixing bacteria), loved by bees and bumblebees and simply beautiful in the garden

Corn Cockle

Posted on March 27, 2022 by Annette

Corn Cockle – Agrostemma githago

Some 5000 years ago corn cockle was known to the early farmer already. It was a constant in fields of cereals. Only when seed cleaning and weed killers became widespread, corn cockle became rare. 1996 it was short of extinction in Germany. Now, the humble beauty has started making gardens its new home.

Like cornflower corn cockle is an archeophyte, a plant not native but introduced at a very early stage, infact it has become part of our flora in prehistoric times. Originally it might have been native to the oriental regions. It is tightly connected to early farming: corn cockle was harvested, threshed and in the end sown together with the respective cereal – and it got itself perfectly adapted to this procedure. The seeds are approximately the size of cereal grains.

The seed capsules are narrower at the top, so the seeds will stay in unless they get their threshing. The seeds will germinate immediatly after sowing, just like cereal grains, and thus grow together with the crop. The sepals grow quite long and stand above the rest of the crop to take in the sunlight for photosynthesis.

Botanically corn cockle is a member of the carnation family, known to the gardener as pinks. Their flowers have five sepals and petals, the seeds grow within a bulbous seed capsule. The green calyx is covered by fine shiny hair that will look just magical when full of droplets of dew. Corn cockle can grow to a height of 140 cm, their roots can go as deep as 80 cm. The whole plant is poisenous. It is a hardy annual which when germinating in autumn will build a rosette of leaves and withstand even severe frost. The scarlet flowers, which are almost white in their inner parts, shine from June until August. They are visited by a variety of pollinators mainly hover flies, butterflies and bees. This is true for both the wild scarlet and the white garden variety.

Corn cockle will grow in almost any soil, but it definitely prefers a sunny spot. It can form its own crowd and look like a scarlet ocean swaying in the wind. It is a valuable flower for many pollinators and when combined with poppies, cornflower and daisies will make a stunning spot in the garden that will be eagerly visited by pollinators.

Recommended for any gardener with nature on their mind:
Adrian Thomas „Gardening for Wildlife – A Complete Guide to Nature-friendly Gardening“ 2017, Bloomsbury, London+NY

Suppliers of ecological seeds and plants of wildflowers (please check for customs restrictions if planning to order from outside Germany):
Bingenheimer Saatgut AG, Kronstraße 24, 61209 Echzell, www.bingenheimersaatgut.de
Dreschflegel Bio-Saatgut, In der Aue 31, 37213 Witzenhausen,
www.dreschflegel-saatgut.de
Hof Berg-Garten, Björn Lau, Lindenweg 17, D-79737 Herrischried,
www.hof-berggarten.de

2021 Gardener’s Logbook

Posted on December 20, 2021 by Annette

Ende Januar hat der Raureif alles verzaubert. Noch geht es den Rosmarinbüschen und den Ölweiden bestens.

Das Ringbeet liegt ruhig. Ziersalbei und Wermut, Diptam und Elfenbeinginster ruhen sich aus und warten auf wärmere Zeiten.

Im Sommer wird das Ringbeet dann so aussehen: üppig besetzt mit Ziersalbei, der wenn er müde ist, vom langen Blühen, abgelöst wird von Ysop, daneben Pfingstrosen, Scheinsonnenhut, Echter Salbei … und alle voller Bienen, Hummeln und Schmetterlingen.

Im Juni 2021 hatten wir hier knapp 5 Tonnen Bauschutt ausgegraben, um ein neues Beet für die Rhododendren zu schaffen. Sie haben sich gut eingelebt und zeigen sich dankbar für den Platz, an dem im Sommer zur Mittagshitze der alte Schweinestall Schatten spendet. Auch der Stechginster hat sich gut entwickelt – hier hat er eine Haube aus Jute. Als angekündigt wurde, dass die Temperaturen ungewöhnlich tief sinken sollen, wurde noch rasch eingepackt, was einzupacken war: die neue gepflanzten Schneeforsythien, der Ananasginster, der Baummohn, der Schneeflockenstrauch. Anfang Februar ist es dann tatsächlich bitter kalt geworden und es hat angefangen zu schneien.

Die Mengen an Schnee waren so ungewöhnlich wie die Tiefe der Temperaturen: bis zu -17 Grad musste der Garten aushalten. Für manche Pflanze war der Temperaturgang grenzwertig: am 6. Februar lag die Temperatur morgens um 6 Uhr bei 0°, am 13. Februar hatten wir zur gleichen Tageszeit -17° erreicht und am 16. Februar waren es +3°, nachdem es am Tag zuvor gleich 7mm Regen gegeben hatte. Den restlichen Grünkohl konnten wir noch ernten und genießen.

In den verschneiten Resten der Zuckermaispflanzen sitzt ein Rotkehlchen. Der Schnee türmte sich enorm, auch weil starke Winde die Dächer blank geweht und den Schnee von dort auch noch im Garten abgelegt haben. Der Sturm hat den Schnee durch kleinste Ritzen unter die Dächer der alten Höfe geweht – hier waren wir alle dabei, den Schnee von den Dachböden zu schippen, damit der Kram nicht durch die Decke trieft, wenn alles taut.

Die Tür zur Terrasse war ein ganze Zeitlang vom Schnee blockiert und nicht zu benutzen. Hier weht gerade ein Böe noch mehr Schnee vom Dach vor die Tür.

Winterschön: In der Dämmerung der sternklaren Nacht hat sich Raureif auf die Eichen gelegt. Ein Streif Nebel oder besser gesagt Rauch (gefrorener Nebel) hängt noch in der kalten Luft. Dass nicht wenige in der Gegend etliche Tage eingeschneit waren, dass stellenweise der Schnee praktisch knietief lag und selbst zu Fuß nur schlecht voranzukommen war, das sieht man dieser Winteridylle nicht gleich an.

Gräser und Hagebutten verzaubert vom Reif, die Vogeltränke mit einer dicken Schneehaube: die Futterstellen für die Vögel waren gut besucht. Ende Februar fräsen wir einige Beetränder, am 23. Februar wird der Nachmittag +17° warm.

Die Ölweiden haben als erste gezeigt, dass sie leiden. Auf dem Bild vom 8. Februar zeigen sich schon erste dürre Blätter. vor allem im Gipfelbereich und ganz außen, wo der Ostwind in die Büsche gebissen hat.

Das Bild vom 6. April zeigt, dass die Sträucher komplett dürr sind. Wir hatten bereits konkret geplant, womit wir sie ersetzen, als sie spät im Sommer doch wieder durchgetrieben haben. Den linken Busch haben wir dennoch rausgenommen und erst mal in einen geräumigen Kübel gepflanzt und geschützt gestellt. Er stand an der Ecke vom Schweinestall, um die der Ostwind besonders heftig pfeift. Dort steht jetzt ein Goldregen, der ist härter im Nehmen als die Ölweiden.

Die Narzissen gehören zu den ersten, die dem neuen Jahr Farbe schenken. In der Mitte des Ringbeetes steht der Apfeldorn mit einem kleinen Meer von Narzissen zu seinen Füßen.

Hier sind es noch fünf, mittlerweile sind es sieben: sie sollen zu einem kleinen Holzapfel-Wäldchen heranwachsen. Den Unterwuchs machen Schneeglöckchen und Fingerhut. Die Holzapfelbäume sind nicht die einzigen Neuzugänge. Auch zwei Apfel-Hochstämme der Sorte Brettacher haben sich zu uns gesellt. Die Birne Geishirtle, der letztes Jahr von Wühlmaus und Engerlingen in Teamarbeit schwer zugesetzt worden war, hat sich seither im Kübel gut erholt, einen festen Wurzelballen gebildet und konnte im Frühjahr frisch ausgepflanzt werden.

Zur Straße hin ist eine freiwachsende Hecke gepflanzt, nach innen von der Wiese nun abgegrenzt durch den Lavendelbogen. Die Sträucher hatten an anderen Stellen bereits eine Zeitlang gestanden und sind nun im Frühjahr hierher umgezogen. Die Bienen haben die Blüten im Sommer sofort gefunden.

Nun mischen auch die weißen Narzissen mit – sie sind ein wenig später dran als die gelben.

Unsere neue Waldkiefer hat Gesellschaft bekommen: Wildtulpen der Sorte Tarda haben sich um den knorrigen Stamm herum angesiedelt.

Neben den verschiedenen Meisen und einem Pulk Sperlinge sind Buntspecht und Eichelhäher Stammgäste geworden. Der kleine Zaunkönig schaut meist eher im Winter vorbei, wie das Rotkehlchen. Der Ölweide sieht man die Kälteschäden noch deutlich an, genau wie den buntlaubigen Ligustern, die im Vorgarten stehen. Auch ein Kirschlorbeer ist zurückgefroren, treibt aber wieder durch, ebenso die mächtigen Rosmarinbüsche im Hochbeet – allerdings müssen sie von unten wieder neu anfangen. Die Apothekerrose hat es nicht geschafft. Am 19. Mai bekommen wir Besuch von einem Paar Rebhühner.

Wo zu Anfang Beifuß den Hausgarten gegen die Wiese eingrenzte, wachsen jetzt Iris. Dies ist eine der Schönheiten, die neu dazu gekommen sind und nun zum ersten Mal blühen.

Da auch dieses Jahr pandemiebedingt wieder nahezu alle Buchkunstmessen ausfallen, entschließen wir uns, den restlichen Bauschutt auszugraben. Diesmal dauert das wesentlich länger als im vorigen Jahr. Einerseits, weil die Fläche größer ist, andererseits weil es im Frühjahr reichlich regnet und der Boden schlicht zu nass ist, als dass man darin nach Ziegelsteinen, Dachplattenstücken, Fliesenscherben und alten Flaschen suchen könnte.

Zwischenzeitlich war die Sonnen zu kräftig und unser Pavillon musste als Schattenspender für die Arbeit herhalten.

Nach gut drei Monaten war die Mulde gut voll: über 6 Tonnen Bauschutt vergangener Generation haben sich darin nun gesammelt.

13. Juni: Margeriten und Ziersalbe im Ringbeet

18. Juli: Stangenbohnen, Zuckerschoten, Linsen und die Dicken Bohnen sind ganz rechts draußen

Geerntet haben wir einiges: jede Menge Johannisbeeren und Stachelbeeren. Ein erstes kleines Körbchen mit Äpfeln von der Goldparmäne. Die Buschbohnen haben genug getragen zum Genießen und Einfrieren. Die Roten Bete sind klein geblieben dieses Jahr, der Zuckermais auch. Dafür sind die Sonnenblumen umso größer geworden. Die Dicken Bohnen haben kräftig getragen, die Linsen auch, aber hier waren die kleinen Waldmäuse etwas schneller beim Ernten als wir. Sie haben uns aber durchaus noch Linsen gelassen. Die Stangenbohnen durften bleiben, bis die Hülsen braun und die Kerne reif waren – das hat eine gute Ernte ergeben.

Sie fühlt sich hier pudelwohl: dort, wo Gras und Zottelwicke nicht abgemäht sind, leben abertausende von kleinen Heuschrecken, und das ist genau das, was einer Wespenspinne gefällt.

Ein herbstlicher Sonnenuntergang, der die Sonnenblumen leuchten macht. Nachher wird es einen großen Regenbogen geben und eine Formation Gänse wird vor ihm vorbeiziehen.

Die Astern halten noch lange die Farbe im Garten. Im Herbst wird noch ein Goldregen gepflanzt und ein weidenblättriger Sanddorn. Den alten Flieder im Vorgarten werden wir wohl auf den Stock setzen müssen.

Raureif – wie zu Anfang des Jahres, hier im Sonnenuntergang und mit den braun gewordenen Gräsern und dem großen Blütenstand der Hortensie. Solange der Boden noch offen und weich ist, kann noch gejätet werden – dabei ist viel nachzuholen.

What.a.year.

Posted on December 4, 2020 by Annette

The past years were special, each in its own right: 2018 was hot and dry. 2019 not as bad as 2018 but still hot and dry enough. And 2020 was totally different. With all studio-and-book arts-related fairs and events just not happening, there was a lot of time to spend on something else.

Next to printing and making books comes the garden. So here we go.

February came with an icing. Winters have not been too hard lately, this one was not much of an exception. Even though I am not a fan of lots of snow and long icy periods, I have started wishing for conditions reducing the number of root voles to a healthy level. And I mean healthy with respect to our fruit trees, beet root and kale – all of which have suffered from the beasts.

I would like to stress that most of our animal visitors or full-time and part-time residents are welcome. The colourful pheasant keeps coming every now and then. There are a great many of small birds, and, guessing from the great variety of droppings, there are many fury visitors as well.

March gifted us with the colours of the hellebore plants.

In May the tulips were still beauties in their own right. There was nice company from our black pansies.

We put up the bean poles while the broom was in bloom.

We had a colourful early harvest – and tasty, too, while the kale was only just starting to go strong.

June brought abundance to the flower beds. It felt like if all the flowers were frolicking that, after two years of hardship, they were allowed to grow and bloom properly again.

We could watch our first own quinces to slowly grow and start developing their bright yellow colour and their lovely scent.

However, there is always a “but”. The rhododendrons were suffering. They had been planted some two years ago and the past two summers had been far too sunny and too dry for the still not quite established plants. Normally they would have been able to do well underneath the huge old oak trees. But in fact they did not. The question was: where could they go instead? The only spot that could provide some shade over the sunny daytime hours was in the back of the former pig stable. We knew we would unearth rubble once we started digging down to prepare a bed for the rhododendrons. But the amount of rubble still came as a surprise.

Within one month, June, we dug out some 5 tons of rubble. We had ordered a container, so it could go right in there straight away. All the broken bricks and roof tiles and floor tiles and bathroom wall tiles and bits&pieces of concrete went. An endless stream of wheel barrows filled with compost went in to replace the huge volume that had gone by taking out all the rubble. On the last day of June the rhododendrons had arrived in their new and hopefully forever home. So far they seem to be happy and thriving.

We are happy to provide a sip for whoever is in need. Our resident sparrows and robins and tits love to come for a bath in the puddles we create on our patio floor over the summer.

As one of our apple trees had been badly mauled by the root voles and we still do not know whether it might be beyond recovery, we decided to have another one and went for the variety “Kaiser Wilhelm”. It appears that the heat of the previous two hot summers has done something to the structure of the sandy soil, at least in some places. So we dug out a plot of approx. 2 x 2 metres and exchanged most of the soil in there. We wanted to give the new tree not only a good start but also provide for a strong growth afterwards.

Late in autumn we planted a number of old and wild plum varieties as part of our free growing hedge along the main road. These are to replace the losses of shrubs we had, caused by root vole activity since we first planted the hedge in late 2017. We hope the plums will have more strength to grow back roots that have been eaten away. We welcomed a number of newcomers: a nicely grown pine tree and a special sort of elm tree, some roses, a hydrangea and two white forsythias.

There was still more digging to be done. The summer hedge made up from common mugwort we used to have on the perimeter of the house garden was to go. Not only had it gone shaggy it was also showering the garden with its seeds and we had mugwort growing all over the place. We decided we wanted to have irises instead. So all the mugwort had to go and irises had to come in. We already had some bluish ones, but we gave them company with white ones and dark purple. So we are looking forward to next spring, when they hopefully will show off all their colours and beauty.

As I write this the days and nights have become chilly. We had a number of mornings with white frost already and some days with lovely November fog. There is still some colour in the garden with very late cornflowers and some golden-brown chrysanthemums. Lotta has grown into a jolly, playful, loving family dog. She will be three years old next week.

On the Brink of Winter

Posted on December 18, 2019 by Annette

After the dry and rather hot summer of 2018 we had hoped for less heat and more rain during 2019. Obviously 2019 was different from 2018, but it was another dry year at least over some periods. However, there was more rain in total. From August onwards we did have more rain than average, in October it was almost twice as much. Add to this: 2019 was not as hot as 2018. This, plus the cloud cover we had, meant we had less evaporation. Over the past few weeks the soil has been moist on the surface almost permanently, either by rain or from dew, fog or the odd white frost.

Early in the year our barn kept us busy. All the old straw and hey had to go. In early March the last load left on a trailer, leaving us with clearing out the rest. Right on the bottom of it all was a layer that could be rolled up like a large carpet. This was all to go on to our compost heap.

April looked quite promising. The daffodils are going strong and the meadow looks green again, at least in places. Even though: much of the green is in fact moss covering the places that burnt blank during last years heat. And then there was some late snow in mid April enchanting the garden.

Luckily it did not do any harm to our pear trees that were in bloom already.

May colored the rhododendrons and the irises joined in.

And then along came June. It gifted us with a wealth of poppies, cornflowers and corn campions. We bathed in seas of red and blue and purple.

A wall of foxgloves stood out in the back between all the rhododendrons radiating in all the colours they could think of.

Let me introduce you to Jacquelin du Pre. She is a beauty in her own right and a rose dearly loved by hover flies.

With the sun getting strong some plants needed a bit more shade. During the past three years I had been to basket weaving workshops at Kerstin’s. All my baskets were meant to go in the garden for shading plants in need. And they did a really good job. The one I made this year reminded me somewhat of the Sorting Hat at Hogwarts.

The rye we had put out the year before was going strong this year. It was almost 2 metres high and it got itself infested with ergot. They, too, grew impressively strong.

We do have a number of fruit trees in our garden, but we had been fancying a mirabelle tree for quite a while. And this year we came across one we felt wanted to be part of our orchard. We planted it in spring and it grew well. It came with a couple of wee little green fruits. To our great surprise they took another route than we had expected:

We rang the nursery to ask whether there was any chance that there is a blue variety. But they said no. So, now we have a plum tree with no name. We decided to keep it.

We thought the old balcony pots might look nice mounted on what used to be a stable door. The nasturtiums quite liked it there.

These are our climbing beans prior to the root voles having a go at them. We still did harvest some of them and they were nice and tasty – the beans, even though I would like to get rid of all the root voles, I do not fancy having them for dinner.

In late September we checked all the nest boxes. One pair of blue tits had their own ideas as to nesting. They chose to nest behind this old little door. During the times pigs were kept in that stable, this door was used for mucking out. We walled it up from the inside to keep unwanted rodents out. But, to some there is room in the smallest chamber. See you next spring, lads.

As I write this the mole is working eagerly its way through all of our meadow doing its job regarding the grubs. There are mole hills all over the place. The bird feeders are crowded, which makes us hope some of those little ones will be there in spring for the nest boxes again. It is still mild, which leaves the soils open for the rain to trickle away and go down to fill up the store of water in the depth.

A barn filled with straw

Posted on December 16, 2019 by Annette

A proper farm needs a barn and when we moved in at our farm in spring 2016 the barn was filled with straw. The stuff must have been sitting there for decades. It was mixed with hey from meadows long gone. Some of the straw was in bales, some bales had disintegrated from the weight of the bales piled on top of them, some straw was loose and long, some had been finely chopped. All of it was a fire hazard and it blocked the space almost completely. So it had to go. Somehow.
This is the story of how a barn full of straw became a barn with space for stories. Countless loads had to go and it would take three years to get the deed done.

First of all we needed to clear the way in and out. The plan was to use this space as a temporary storage for the type cabinets that were to be brought in before winter come. Here it was mostly bales, some of which had been crushed. By autumn the space was free. We were lucky in that a farmer in a village nearby would use the straw as bedding. He kept coming in with his trailer to get the stuff – all the way through until March 2019, when the last load went.

In late October 2016 the type cabinets and presses arrived, all neatly packed on palettes. The forklift truck sorted them one by one in to the now free space in the barn. They were supposed to sit there until the pressroom was ready to be furnished. Unfortunately we got minus 9 degrees for a number of days in November. It would be mid January when we were able to get the cabinets out of the barn and into the pressroom.

Next we tried to tackle the bales in the middle part of the barn. This could be done by picking them up with a fork and tossing them in the trailer. The trailer would fill up quickly. But underneath the bales the loose straw emerged. Partly this was long and tangled and broken baler twine was mixed in with it. Work became arduous.

Every now and then the odd bale turned up within the mass of loose straw. Once the huge pile in the middle had shrunk loading the trailer became even more cumbersome , as the material had to be lifted up to be tossed into the trailer.

The crushed straw was the worst to get loaded. We needed a special gripper device mounted on to the tractor. It looked like the jaws of a lion made from steel. Together with the farmer Albert we devoured, so to speak, our way through the mass of crushed straw.

At some point we lost track on the number of loads we had got out. When a trailer was loaded we looked at what was still there and estimated how many more loads it would be. We never got it right.

And then, all of a sudden, the straw seemed to give in. In early March 2019 the last load rolled out through the barn door. And it became apparent that this space was really beautiful. It had potential. What was left was the stuff right at the bottom. This went on to our compost heap. In places it could be rolled up like a carpet. Buried underneath the huge pile of straw was the cavern that was used to store potatoes and field mangels to feed the pigs. The ceiling of this pit had given up in places and had broken in. In normal years there would be some half metre of water standing down there. After two dry summers it was of course dry. As we had no notion to keep pigs any time soon, we decided to fill the pit with sand.

To have the pit filled evenly took us a few loads of sand and a couple of weeks time. Some of the sand was wet and sticky, some was nice and dry. Generously our neighbours stepped in to help. Thank you, mates!

Here the deed is almost done. The sand could be filled in only from one side and had to be worked to the other side with shovel, rake and wheel barrow.

We had kept some of the straw to fill old coffee sacks. 2019 was the year of the studio’s 20th anniversary. To have the barn free of straw came in handy: we could have readings from my artist’s books in this space. And we would have those straw filled sacks to sit on. Now it was just the lamps and sockets that wanted to be fixed.

Here we are: A barn to be filled with stories.

An almost endless summer

Posted on November 12, 2018 by Annette

This summer was a challenge for two reasons. Firstly: it started in mid April with temperatures rising to 30 degrees and lastet well into October. And even though November has seen the odd morning with white frost it is still too mild for the season. Secondly: there was hardly any rain.

Since we moved here in 2016 we have planted more than 30 trees and well over 40 shrubs and bushes. Most of them had been in the soil for less than or not much over one year, so the ongoing lack of rain was putting them at considerable risk. Starting from April until well into October watering the bushes and young trees was a main concern.

During spring and early summer there was a wealth of poppies and cornflowers and bees and bumblebees were feasting. I desperately tried to keep the crimson clover alive and it started flowering in early autumn. We had a large plot of buckwheat which the bees enjoyed and once the seeds appeared the plot got invaded by sparrows.

We had a patch with rye which mostly succumbed to the drought. But the crown-of-the-field was going strong. The patches with flax were doing well. Some of the rhododendrons kept struggling and some even did not manage to open their flowers due to lack of water.

After last year’s failure to bear fruit due to a spell of rather late frost, this year the fruit trees went bonkers with blooming and making apples and pears. Unfortunately the latter became gradually more difficult due to the lack of rain. Most of our young apples got infestated by insect larvae. Some just stopped growing and ended up as miniature apples eventhough they were meant to grow into propper edible fruit. But we got a fair share of pears and a few apples.

Our sunflowers were thriving. At first they were full with bumble bees and once they started building seeds they got raided by the birds. They all came to feed: blue tits and great tits, goldfinches and greenfinches, sparrows and willow tits. The goldfinches came as a family with three youngsters. Later in summer they all were joined by chaffinches and the little wren came back – no idea where it had spent summer, but it had been there in early spring already. In November a cheeky robin appeared feasting on the left over elder berries.

The climbing beans waited out summer and started flowering and producing beans once the days got shorter and the worst heat had gone around September. We did have a bumper crop of beet root and black currants and a fair share of sweet corn. And pumpkins. This year it was Hokkaidos, Sweet Dumpling and White Acorn.

In late May Lotta came to complete the team. Back then she was around half a year of age and we picked her up at an animal shelter. As far as we know she had not been living with people so far, and a lot of pretty ordinary things were completely unknown to her. On a first encounter she decides to sit down and think about it.

She chewed up a couple of things but luckily she learned pretty quickly to keep her teeth off cables and she did not ruin any of our shoes. She has grown into a friendly funny little mate and we love her to bits. There is still a lot she needs to learn but she is young enough so there is still time. We have started attending dog school in summer and she is making good progress.

With having the dog we now get out and about much more. This is lovely because we do live in a beautiful spot and in autumn the cranes come to rest and you can see them feed in the fields – which is not to every farmers liking. Nevertheless they are impressive birds.

Our house garden was getting along fairly well in the dry weather, apart from the hydrangeas. They are thirsty plants and wish for a fair share of rain. I kept watering them but they did not manage to grow to their usual size. The roses, though, and the grasses could take advantage of the dry weather, mainly because we did have no strong winds or gusts. So the grasses still stand in their beauty as they did not get torn to pieces by gales.

We almost lost one of our medlar trees to root voles. The roots had gone alltogether. I put the young tree in a pot with good compost soil and kept it in a sheltered place on the patio. It dropped all its buds, but kept its leaves that were far too tiny. At some point in summer it started growing new leaves of normal size. Now its leaves are golden and it prepares for winter. Next spring we will plant it out again. From our second medlar tree we got a nice first harvest which made for three jars of medlar jelly. We had our first three walnuts but their size does not seem right.

By the time I write this it has gone dark outside. Not all of the resting cranes have left by now. Autumn has coloured the foliage of the trees bright yellow and golden. They days have gone short and rain is falling every now and then. We could do with a couple of weeks of ongoing rain to moisten the dried out soils.

Summerly spring

Posted on May 22, 2018 by Annette

When we moved in here two years ago, there was no garden. The whole plot was a meadow cut several times a year to feed cattle. It was an ocean of green forage grass. No trees, no bushes, no flowers.

We planted our first trees in late 2016. Among them were a walnut tree, a pear tree, a few apple trees and two medlar trees. We put up a raised bed for herbs and over the past two years a number of bushes and flowering plants have been planted as well as black and red currants and gooseberries. We have come much nearer to something that can be labelled a garden.

Spring this year is giving our garden a hard time in a way. To begin with there was the „Beast from the East“, or as we called it here „March Winter“. It came with two bitterly cold snaps, and to make things worse, there was somethig like a week in-between with pretty mild temperatures. By the time the second Siberian snap hit, some plants had already switched into end-of-hibernation-mode. To make things even more challenging, shortly after the rather late winter frost there followed a period of summerly temperatures reaching up to 30 degrees in April. Add to this there was not much rain over the whole of April and we have had barely any rain in May so far. Instead, we are having blue sky, sunny days with an at times gusty wind and temperatures well over 20 degrees for weeks. There are a few newcomers in the garden planted only recently, which now need some shelter from the sun and the wind. The willow baskets I made last year during a workshop come in handy now.

Sheltered rose

We have had losses and near-losses. And a considerable number of plants can clearly be seen fighting through the challenging conditions. Some of the herbs, mainly thyme, which is very much to the liking of a great number of butterflies and bumblebees, have frozen back to almost nothing. They are still struggeling to recover, but, pretty surprisingly, it looks as if most of them would be back for their visitors in time. The two buckthorns went strong after the winter, but one of them went all floppy recently and needed to be watered. Of the two wild pear trees we have, whose home are the dry regions in Turkey and the Balkan peninsula, one suffered from the dry conditions and needed to be watered. The wild pears are, as is our common juniper, supposed to be drought tolerant. They both seem to be approaching their limits these days.

Somebody checking the cover of a new bed

All the new beds we laid seeds in need to be watered almost on a daily basis. Something that has been ongoing for several weeks by now. It means getting up at 6am and going out to water the beds and plants in need, as later on the sun will be shining from a spotless sky without mercy and the wind will take up speed over the day. When preparing the new bed for parsnip, beetroot and mangetout, we, again, unearthed bricks, roof tiles and beautiful broken floor or wall tiles, shards of glass panes and all sorts of rusty somethings.

Unearthed treasures

Oriental poppy

We have, well, I’d prefer to say: almost, lost one of our medlar trees to a hungry root vole. We realised the tree had stopped growing its leaves any further and took it out, finding there were not even traces of roots left. For whatever reason the vole managed to overcome the wire basket we had planted the tree into, to keep it safe from any root predators. We now try to nurture the medlar tree back to health in a pot placed in a shaded corner. Fingers crossed.

Young apples

Pumpkin

We are going for sweetcorn, broad beans, mangetouts and pumpkins again. And we are having a go at carrots, parsnip and beetroot this year around. It looks as if we were expecting a nice harvest of black and red currants and gooseberries. There is some hope for our first home grown apples and some pears. We might even have medlars again, the second tree has not been mauled by the root voles and there has been no disruptive late frost during bloom, but many bees and bumblebees busily pollinating.

Red gooseberries

Mangetout

The rhododendrons are in bloom now. We planted them last autumn. Even though they were exposed to the bitterly cold winds in March they are still going strong. But the continuing dry conditions are not quite to their liking.

Perennial flax

Chrysanthemum with rosechafer

The sunflowers are growing rapidly. The perennial flax and chrysanthemums are in bloom, as are the many varieties of sage. The lupines, that were lucky enough to not end up as dinner for the hare, are now showing off their whites and pinks and purples. And the poppies have opened their bespoke simple red flowers. There are so many more visitors then we had in our first summer. We have honey bees, solitary bees and bumblebees, all sorts of butterflies and moths, dragonflies, hover flies, black lice and lady birds, spiders and grasshoppers. The hornets have become regulars since last autumn, when they discovered that our mature ivy is a pretty good hunting ground. We do have beetles. Lots of, particularly cockchafers. This is no surprise knowing there are legions of their grubs in the soil of our garden.

The onions I put out last spring as a vague experiment to chase away root voles are now getting ready to push out their flowers. And, after all, we managed to give our bryonies their long time home. It is a raised bed of sorts and is secured against soil living rodents. The bryony instantly started to grow vigorously and is now in bloom already.

Bryony

As I write this, I have already spent over an hour with watering early in the morning. There are clouds in the sky but they do not carry the promise of rain. The swallows and house martins are feasting out there. The sparrows are chatting happily, they have discovered our huge compost heap only recently. And the wee blue tits, who readily moved in at the nest box we had put up in late winter, are bringing in eagerly caterpillars of all colours to feed their chirping young.

Scarlet lily beetle on imperial fritillary

Late Winter

Posted on April 4, 2018 by Annette

Time is flying, even though winter has been clinging on for quite a while this time around. We have seen snow in February.

And even before the snow came there were birds coming to our feeders. They did not do so during the previous winter. But they seem to have developed some sort of liking for our young garden. We have great and blue tits visiting, a pair of wrens, a pair of chaffinches has started coming only recently. There is a robin, and blackbirds. And the cheeky magpies are clearing the crumbs off the ground. Even some crows come for the larger bits that dropped off the hanging feeders.

We did not cut the sunflowers in autumn, but left them for the birds to feed from instead.

Can you spot the onions? I was eager to find some winter onions to put in the beed . Not only did I have an early harvest in mind. But I’m still trying to keep the root voles at a good distance. Some say the scent of onions and leeks is not to their liking. Others say the voles don’t really care.

The old oaks along the small street are utterly unfazed by the snow. They are beautiful throughout all seasons.

And right over there, in the northwesterly corner of our garden our rhododendrons wait for spring to come. Their buds are large and strong and we hope for a colourful April and May bringing out whites and deep purple and golden yellows.

One of the rhododendrons got some special decoration: a black nightshade chose to grow over the strong branches. It still carries plenty of its berries.

We have had a sparrow hawk visiting our patio. Casually sitting on the rim of one of the plant pots trying not to look to where the feeders for the little birds are. We have put up the nesting boxes regardless.

This is what the daffodils looked like in mid February. The cold has been following us far into March. Two periods with bitterly cold air from the east swept over the garden – one almost a week long the second one slightly shorter. I had wrapped up many a plant pot and some of the herbs. But the rosemary bushes still suffered and will need to be cut back. During a short slightly warmer spell in March we managed to plant a few ferns as companions for the rhododendrons.

Elsewhere people have put in a lot of effort to beautifully lay a hedge. We saw this along a road in Oxfordshire, some miles north of Burford, after staying on a few days following the Oxford Fine Press Book Fair in late March.

As I write this the sun is out again after a little bit of early spring rain. I have started digging out new beds for new flowers in our meadow. There are many lovely seeds that want to be given a space that suits them. There will be a wealth of flowers for bees and birds and butterflies – wind and weather permitting.

January full moon

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