The following series appeared in the St. John with
Millbrook Parish Magazine and is reproduced here for those, like me, who have
an interest in gardening!
Fr. Christopher
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Last month's article sparked a bit of a scare for the Vicarage garden. It came to our notice that some very strong weed killer had been applied to eradicate the Japanese Knotweed that seems to have taken over vast tracts of land in the south west. Our concern was that perhaps some residue was still lingering in the ground contaminating the vegetables Sue has worked so hard to cultivate and nurture. We think we are OK and that we can safely eat the veg!
Its amazing how much the garden has come on during the last month - the hanging baskets are flourishing, the lawn is growing rampantly and the vegetables and tomatoes are maturing well. The weather has of course been mixed although as I write the sun is shining and for the first time this summer it feel like 'summer'!
I always enjoy visitors coming stay, especially my dad because you just can't keep him down. He insists on doing the gardening and it would be cruel to deny him the opportunity to tidy things up. Last time he came he managed, with Sue's help to extract a massive tree stump from beside the shed which was very much in the way. I was called in to wield the axe but it nearly finished me off.
I am keen to maintain some areas of the Vicarage garden as 'wild areas'. The idea is to attract butterflies and wild flowers to flourish. The perimeter of the garden lends itself well and so remains unmown. I have been a little disappointed because the variety of wild flowers has been somewhat limited. What I need to do for next year is acquire some seeds and scatter them just to help things along.
One aspect of gardening that I enjoy is sitting back
and admiring the garden and celebrating Sue's achievements. This, I feel,
is best done whilst barbecuing and lounging with a small glass of wine. Unfortunately,
the weather has restricted any serious barbecuing this year but there is still
plenty of time. The barbecuing facilities in the garden do need upgrading.
Presently, I use an old 'Hibachi' style BBQ which sits on the ground and is
rather primitive and uncomfortable. It means keep leaning down, which is not
really on. What I have in mind is a nice brick built job with a shelf to rest
my glass on! I shall have to arrange for my dad to come and visit having previously
purchased the components which I shall leave in a conspicuous location with
a sign saying 'Please build me'.
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As I write we are just preparing for the Vicarage Barbecue! This is what gardens are for; reclining in a chair, glass in one hand, tongs in the other, watching the smoke drift gently from the coals of the Barbecue and listening to the birds tweeting and the sheep on the hills 'baaing'. Bathed in the warmth of the evening sun slowly setting in the west I sit back and dream of those balmy summer's evenings, sat by the caravan in some far away corner of France, and all the worries, stresses and strains of parish life gradually seep away! Suddenly all the hard work mowitig, weeding, trimming, nurturing and watering all seems worthwhile! Well it sounds good anyway even if summer only lasted three days. The Vicarage garden is reaching a critical point in its annual cycle of life. With the hols on the horizon its survival will depend on Grandpa and Grandma coming down and lavishing constant loving care on the vegetables and flowers. I have to say that the hanging baskets are a profusion of colour, apart from one or two which seem to have withered rather prematurely. The Sweet Peas, which started slowly, are now flowering gloriously. From my vantage point of a deck chair strategically placed on the lawn from which I survey the fruits of my (our, I should say) labours, I notice two bits of bare wall that scream out for two more wall pots, either side of the lounge window. More work for next year!
Quite by accident one day whilst l was carefully strimming
the long grass I tragically ventured just too close to a rose bush (twig?)
struggling for life in the lawn just outside the study window; just a millimetre
too close and an overzealous swish of the Black and Decker and the poor thing
was rendered less than a stump. Good news though, I notice that it has re-established
itself and is coming on quite nicely again. The All Saints' Summer Fete was
a great opportunity to scour the 'Garden and Plants' stall for fine horticultural
specimens and the odd bargain! I scooped a couple of rockery type plants (not
that we have a rockery, but they were cheap) and three green plants that will
have, I was assured, orange flowers, which were also going quite cheap. Some
major news concerning the Vicarage garden for all you avid horticulturists
out there is that Robin Austin very kindly came and cut down three dreadful
trees that were in poor condition and obscured our view. I am not fond of
cutting down trees but I have to say that Millbrook and the Vicarage is a
better place for these specimens having been lopped. Many
thanks to Robin. We now have a forty foot high pile of old trees languishing
at the bottom of the garden.
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Suddenly, having returned from our holidays, the summer seems to be over. The evenings are growing chilly and the mornings cool and fresh. Although I am not a 'morning' person, I have to say that there is nothing quite like being up and out early, as I tend to be on Sunday mornings. My first Sunday back was glorious! Early morning sunshine, dew on the grass and a clean fresh smell in the air - wonderful!
Well enough of this sentimentality and back to the garden. Returning to the vicarage garden after our holiday 1 was delighted to note that dad had kindly cut the grass during his stay. I am hoping that was the last cut that will be needed, but I doubt it. The grass was still very green so I began to doubt those rumours of a heat wave while we were in France sheltering from the rain! The vegetable patch, which I view from a distance, fearing that I might have to dig something up if I get too close, looked well overgrown. I made the right decision not to go in too close as I subsequently discovered that lurking in the undergrowth were some enormous, fearsome marrow and cucumbers, or were they courgette, that had mutated themselves, into look-alike marrow. The beans had self destructed under their own weight but enough had survived to feed us and family and friends. Always maintaining a safe distance, I observed on a number of occasions that there appeared to be something moving about in the undergrowth; I saw the leaves of the giant marrow swaying about and the sound of something rummaging. It turned out to be Sue harvesting the abundant crops and subsequently noticed barrow loads of onions, carrots and yet more marrow being extracted. Amazing!
I love Blackberries, and so does Harriet. Before we went
on holiday she spent many happy hours picking Blackberries from around the
Church and the garden; and there were still a good number on the bushes
which she hurriedly harvested on our return. Oddly, leaves
seem to have been falling since early summer. I am not quite sure why as there
has been plenty of rain, but now the whisper of falling leaves has been joined
by the constant thud of falling apples. Our bumper crop this year seems typical
as everyone is trying to pass on apples. Our freezer is now occupied by hundreds
of apple pies. The hanging baskets and plants were lovingly cared for while
we were away but are now looking a little sad being the end
of the season. They have provided a magnificent show,
though. All that remains, as far as I can see, is to hang up the nuts for
the birds, sit back and enjoy the autumn and winter garden!
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Sue and I have recently had a good clearing up session in the garden. It actually looked Ok to me but she insisted that vegetable patch should be cleared and the garden generally tidied up. Much to my astonishment, the grass has needed cutting again! Still, once I've mustered the enthusiasm, I do find mowing quite therapeutic. So I got stuck into the mowing while Sue engaged in some heavy looking digging and clearing.
Towards the end of the day the sight of the great pile of branches and tree cuttings from the felled firs created too much of a temptation, so having cleared the vegetable patch it provided a good space to have a bonfire! And what a fire! The debris went up like dry tinder despite still being quite green'. The heat was intense so the smoke, which drifted serenely over Millbrook, was kept to a minimum. We haven't had so much fun for ages. The whole lot was totally consumed and I have to say the garden does look tidier for it.
Over the summer I had acquired a number of plants which
I just hadn't had time to plant so on another occasion I was cajoled into
action again and the bulbs and other plants strategically placed and planted.
The relatively mild weather seems to be affecting the bulbs because those
we actually dug up accidentally were already sprouting! We are waiting
for the Vicarage driveway to be done so giving safer access and once this
work has been completed we shall be able to enhance the entrance way with
new planting-a project fornext year I think.
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Where did the winter go? It seems like only last week
that I was carefully brushing the mower off and stowing it in the shed! I
probably should have mowed at least one more time before putting it away last
year because the grass seemed awfully long at Christmas. Nevertheless, like
the hedgehogs stirring from their winter slumbers I was prodded into action
some weeks ago and out came the mower again. It was hard going and believe
it or not I actually mowed on two successive days – I was exhausted.
All that running back and forth between mower and compost heap. Thank goodness
the weather deteriorated! Just as I was thinking to myself that the veg patch
could do with a dig over Sue beat me to it and I discovered her puffing and
panting, quite unnecessarily, as she toiled on the patch. I felt sorry for
the weeds that had just got themselves established. Good news though the Rhubarb,
grown from seed last year, is coming on superbly. We covered it so as to force
growth and two stems have just been pulled. I love rhubarb. The daffs, which
emerged just after Christmas, looked beautiful and are just going over now.
The Primroses have been glorious and I am now looking forward to the emergence
of the bluebells. Rather more strenuous for me was the removal of some
turf, dug to make room for some new Gooseberry and Blackcurrant bushes, kindly
donated by Sue Holmes, to the side of the Vicarage. That was hard going
but the tone of voice used in asking for help was stern enough to dilute any
possible excuse I might have dreamt up! The next job is to grass the
area by the garage to tidy up that part of the garden. It always looks so
easy on ‘Ground Force’ doesn’t it! Being a conservationist
at heart I am pleased to announce the arrival of some tadpoles in the Vicarage
stream. They are doing well, I think. There has been some difference
of opinion on the stream. I maintain it is a stream, a water feature,
others have described it, rather unkindly I think, as a damp ditch. We shall
see. You may be interested to learn that such is my passion for plants that
I am now into house plants with the recent arrival of a Maidenhair fern
in the study. I hope it survives.
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One aspect of gardening that I find very relaxing is
watching one of the many gardening programmes on the telly! There are so many
ranging from ‘Gardener’s World’ to ‘Gardening Neighbours’
(none of my neighbours have ever been willing to do my gardening!) and by
the end of each I am fired with enthusiasm for building water features, terraces,
BBQ’s, patios, pergolas and woodland walks. Sue has to physically restrain
me from rushing out to begin work. It is odd that TV’s definition of
a ‘small’ garden is usually just short of Mount Edgcumbe Park
and a ‘limited’ budget often equates to a four-figure sum. But
fear not, the enthusiasm soon wears off as reality percolates through. In
my garden I do like well-defined borders. The short cut lawn looks rather
good, I always think, against the back drop of longer grass on the edges;
and it saves shearing and strimming into the bargain. I have been very pleased
with the ‘wild’ effect I have been cultivating in parts of the
garden. It’s good to give the native wild flowers a chance to thrive
although the constant urge to get out there and get cultivating just has to
be thwarted. One ‘weed’ that plagues the Vicarage garden is the
dreaded Japanese ‘Knotweed’. It is impossible to eradicate and
trailers keep popping up all over the place. Unfortunately, the long awaited
sunshine has not really materialised and the incessant rain has made the grass
grow phenomenally quickly. By the time I’ve finished mowing (including
stops for tea and refreshment, lunch and a read of the paper of course) the
first part of the lawn needs doing again! Recently, though I have been overseeing
the erection of the bean poles to facilitate the planting out of the small,
but strong, runner bean plants. I hadn’t realised that a GPS would have
helped the precise positioning of the poles! They looked alright to me, but
minute readjustment was necessary to keep the wife happy. Typically, having
wrestled with hose, which always seems to have a mind of its own, and struggled
to fit a new threaded tap connector to the outside tap in order to water the
seedlings, it started to rain! I adore Rhubarb and so our success in raising
a plant from seed is much celebrated! Unfortunately, slugs have eaten the
leaves so it has been slow to get going. Last year you may remember the struggling
Rose cut down in its prime by careless mowing? Well, it seems to be making
a come back but oddly not quite where I thought it was. I’ll keep you
posted as to its progress. Roll on summer and the BBQ season.
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When one is passionate about something the greatest joy is sharing it with others and encouraging them to catch the infectious enthusiasm. I especially find this with gardening and my enthusiasm is most definitely infectious. Take Sue’s dad for example. No sooner had he arrived at the Vicarage and he couldn’t wait to get out in the garden and explore. He was clearly impressed with all that has been achieved and I just couldn’t hold him back. He immediately demanded to borrow my old trousers and wellies and got stuck in. Before I could say “no, let me do that”, the forks and spades were being wielded and, hey presto, a new border appears just outside the shed. I have to say that the shed is a wonderful but ugly thing. I have been meaning to grow something up it for a while to camouflage it and was on the verge of embarking on a project when Sue’s dad arrived. Such is my generosity that I was happy to forgo the pleasure of creating something myself to help and encourage his gardening technique. Whether talking to the plants is beneficial remains to be seen.
Sadly, the weather has remained dull and uninspiring during most of June and so there has been little incentive to get out and get on. One job that just had to be done though was to erect the swinging chair, just in case the weather brightened up. As with so many things in the garden timing is of the essence and I was keen not to miss the opportunity of resting up if the weather were to suddenly change. The promised ‘heat wave’, when it came, was rather more of a ripple than a wave!
Despite the poor weather the hanging baskets have begun to take shape. Amazingly, we discovered a geranium or two that had survived the winter in a tub having been hiding behind the caravan; tucked away and almost forgotten. These were lovingly transplanted and are coming on well. Gill and Tony Stock, my horticultural friends, were kind enough to pass on a fabulous array of seedling ‘Stocks’ (no pun intended), ‘Tiger Woods’ or was it ‘Tiger stripes‘, ‘Antirrhinums and other bedding plants. I am exceedingly grateful to them for the plants and for the cup of tea, over which we were able to share gardening stories and experiences. We now have a delightful splash of colour on the patio.
Gardens are also wonderful, aren’t they, because they enable one to combine other passions in life. In my case that includes outdoor cooking on the Barbecue. I’m not terribly interested in the preparation bit, I have to confess, (it can be a bit mucky) but am perfectly happy sitting, preferably in a reclined position, with a glass of wine in one hand and the tongs in the other creating a gastronomic delight. Barbecuing in June though was not a pleasant experience. Huddled over the fire trying to keep warm, with the wind whistling around threatening to blow my glass over, is not my idea of a typical pleasant summer’s evening. Even the BBQ expired in a heap of rust!
Well, the grass continues to grow and we live in the hope of some good weather soon.
Fr. Christopher, your horticultural Vicar.
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As I write, the first signs of summer are emerging. The sun is shining and the garden is beginning to bloom, well the grass is anyway. I’m sure it wont last. Happily the good weather and the arrival of my father coincided and so he was able to tackle the lawn which had only just dried enough to be mowed for the first time in weeks. I have to say he was in his element and if I’m lucky the cut will last until he visits again in August.
Now, gardening can be frustrating can’t it. If it’s not the slugs and snails or the dreaded Knotweed it is those who insist on calling just when one has summoned the energy to get on with a specific task. Take last week for example. I had just got myself psyched up to dig a massive hole for some plants and had just made the first thrust of the spade when the Treasurer turned up wanting to talk figures! There was nothing for it but to pass the spade over to the wife to get on with the job. Regrettable but necessary.
Looking around the garden, as I tend to do quite often, (it’s one of the gardener’s pleasures to survey the fruits of all that hard work) I have come to the decision that we need more colour. I was hoping that wild flowers might invade the garden and create a mass of colour and perfume. In fact, apart from the patio pots and two Cuckoo Pints and their red berries there is virtually no colour at all in the garden. Luckily green is my favourite colour. I shall begin to tackle the problem next year . Just behind the caravan though there is a delightful fern like plant that seemed almost indestructible. I used to look at them every day to make sure they were alright and eagerly watched them as they grew taller and stronger day by day. I had been protecting, nurturing and caring for a number of specimens all, except one of which my father unceremoniously chopped down, quite by accident when cutting the grass. The one that survived though has now flowered and is sporting a glorious pink feathery flower. Unfortunately, it is completely obscured by the caravan so no one can see it.
Now to the fruit and veg. I am pleased to report that
the black currents look delightful, the birds are thoroughly enjoying them.
The Raddish are plump and juicy, the potatoes are very plentiful and the bean,
well the bean looked amazing but wasn‘t quite a meal. I’m sure
there will be more. If only I could get my hands on that Rhubarb…..think
of the pies with clotted cream…...
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September already! Summer past is now just a dream...those warm, sunny days, taking to the shade to avoid the scorching sun during the day, basking in the garden of an evening, rocking gently in the swinging chair sipping Pimms, scorched lawns and water shortages, birds singing, children playing, gazebos and barbecuing… I must have been dreaming! My enduring memory of the summer of 2000 is far from the ideal I must have dreamt of above! Chilly evenings, preventing one from sitting out, and, oh yes, rain. That was it, although, to be fair, I do remember the odd fine day. Even the water butt never ran dry. In fact it was constantly over flowing providing a remarkable system of over irrigation. The presence of a large toad suggested that perhaps it was a little too boggy! The garden rather reflected that scenario as well. The flower beds never really got much of a chance being drenched time and time again. The veg patch seemed to be waterlogged and overwhelmed by the inclement weather and failed to really get going. Instead of languishing on the patio it was more a case of staring forlornly from the window suppressing one’s frustration at not being able to get on. Even the hanging baskets never really seemed to get going. The sun did shine though when it really mattered. Up went the gazebo for the Vicarage tea party and out came the barbecue for the Vicarage BBQ. Both events were glorious and the atmosphere was delightful even if the wind was a bit brisk. It reminded me of that song; ‘Always look on the bright side of life……..’ As you know it is vital for us gardeners to think ahead and I am already thinking of next year. The ground in the Vicarage garden is, I believe deficient in nutrients so Vi Lakeman had kindly offered us some of her, er.. sheep’s.. er how shall I put it, manure, to enliven the veg patch. I hope Sue fetches it soon so she can get on with spreading it before winter sets in.! Now I’m thinking of harvest and as far as the Vicarage garden is concerned there is an abundant harvest of blackberries and apples. The blackberries in particular have been splendid this year and Harriet has spent many a happy hour gathering them for the, yes, you guessed it, Blackberry and Apple Crumble! Sadly, I haven’t been able to do much in the garden lately. What with the weather and then the fuel crisis– I just had to do my bit by preserving the mower fuel and so it stayed firmly in the shed! Even as I write the rain is coursing down outside the window and as I sit here pining for the outdoors I glimpse the Holly berries ripening on the tree, to a deep red and I am reminded of Christmass, just around the corner...raging log fires, mulled wine and children singing carols…
Fr. Christopher, your horticultural Vicar.
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In all my gardening years never have I seen Primroses out on Christmass Day! Christmass morning was a bit of a blur for me having been up and about for what had seemed like several days but as I galloped into Church, there, round the back of All Saints’ was a clump of Primroses in bloom! Amazing! Amazing they were in bloom and amazing they hadn’t been washed away. Since then of course the Snowdrops, Crocuses and the trusty old Daffs have burst into colour in the garden – glorious! I am constantly saying to myself ‘what a wonderful thing nature is’ that all these bulbs and plants have survived what is probably the wettest Autumn/Winter on record.
Well, as I gaze out over the Vicarage garden I see a sea. The ground is so wet and there is standing water everywhere. This despite the grass being longer than I would like having been prevented from mowing at the end of last season by the wet weather. It is so frustrating. I have so many jobs to do in and around the garden – I just can’t wait to get out there. The fence that fell down during the October storms is still in need of fixing, the tree that is leaning at a precarious angle by the garage needs felling, the bank out by the road is in need of clearing. If only I could get cracking….but it’s been so wet it would be dangerous to venture out and risk sinking into oblivion! Still, looking out on such a watery scene reminds me of my summer holidays…….Jet Skiing, wind surfing, sailing…...roll on August! Thinking of Summer reminds me of how delightful it has been on those rare occasions in recent weeks when the sun has shone. Oh, what a joy to feel the warmth of the sun on your face and how the sunshine transforms the scenery when it is bathed in the warm glow of the sun’s rays.
With the enforced lack of activity in the garden I tend
to console myself by escaping from the computer and spending time in the shed
planning how I might reorganise things to create extra space and generally
tidy things up. The trouble is I stumble across things like the barbecue and
my mind soon wanders off reminiscing on BBQ’s past…..I am brought
back down to earth by the grow bags purchased recently especially to begin
the hanging baskets and patio pots that I shall oversee the start of soon.
The weather has been so bad though that it took a week or so before I could
get them out of the boot of the car. I was beginning to think to myself that
the weather must improve soon allowing us gardeners back into the garden but
it has just snowed overnight and today the rain has returned so we’re
safe for bit yet!
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Well, well, well…. sunshine, well almost! And, is that the sound of lawnmowers I hear? Strimmers too, amazing! Once upon a time it was the first cuckoo that one listened out for. I haven’t heard a cuckoo for years, have you? Drat, I can’t put it off for any longer, I’ll just have to get out there myself.
Well, what can I say apart that I found the ‘old’ mower lurking in the depths of the shed. I had just given up looking for it when I saw the wife looking somewhat expectant (of me with the lawnmower that is, you understand) so intensified the search and lo and behold there it was! I wish I hadn’t been so over zealous as when I came to start it, after such a wet and dismal winter, it wouldn’t. I was just about to write to ‘Ground Force’ to see if they could help when Sue suggested checking the ‘plug’s. “It’s petrol”, says I “not electric” but apparently the plugs are in the engine! This meant spanners and feeler gauges! I remember those from years past when I used to attempt to service my own car. It would be working perfectly well when I started, then, after working on it, I used to have to push the car down the road and call the RAC to fix it! On one occasion I followed the book which suggested loosening the sump plug so when the engine heated up the oil would flow freely and the sump plug wouldn’t be too tight to undo! The illuminated ‘oil warning light’ on the warm up lap gave advance notice that perhaps I had loosened the sump plug just a bit too much as most of the old oil was trailed along the road. Why, you might ask, am I relating this story? Well, clearly me and engines don’t mix! Nevertheless, I press on with the mower. I remove the ‘plug’ and it looks fine to me so I give it a tap and put it back in. Then I continue pulling frantically at the starter rope. Eventually… phutt, phutt and later still, having put some petrol in, it fires into life! Amazing! However, my arm is already aching and I haven’t mown a blade. Must be time for tea. So I take a short break and then ‘here begineth the first mow of the year‘!
As I begin I realise that although the sun is shining, (O no its not now), the ground is very wet. I’ve always hankered after one of those sit on jobs but now a modified Jet Ski might be more effective.
By now I am in the mood, not for gardening but for a BBQ! It is just about warm enough given the flames from the blazing charcoal. On goes the chicken and the fleece – the first barby of 2001! Wonderful!
My arm is killing me now and I can’t seem to write. Thank goodness for PC’s – far more preferable than mowers.
In closing this month I just want to share with you a dream I recently had. It was amazing. The mother-in-law was visiting with her sister and I was relaxing on the patio with a glass of wine. My every whim was catered for, even unlimited fruit cake. I merely had to think, “More wine“, and my glass was filled. “Carry on digging” I said, and the digging commenced. “Just a few plants there” and before my very eyes plants appeared, they were even flowering! “How about tidying up a bit”; O, yes you’ve guessed it, before I knew it, the place was immaculate. “The grass is a bit long” says I and do you know, the mower suddenly appears and the grass is cut! It must have been a dream cos I couldn’t get the mower going.
Fr. Christopher, your Horticultural Vicar
I have found that gardening is such a vast subject that one can never know all things horticultural. For example, only this past week I discovered that hybrid roses are often grafted onto brambles roots to enhance their growth! Well it so happens that I have a great interest in Roses and am nurturing the creation of the Vicarage Rose garden (it’s still growing as we only have one rose at present, plus the one little one that keeps getting mown). This is mainly because the rose is the only flower I can see from the study window. Well, it turned out we had a problem with this one rose as the original bramble, onto which it had presumably been grafted had started to sprout and was growing long briars. My good friend Tonus from Manchester, who was staying with us for a few days, proceeded to instruct me in the art of dealing with such matters and after the appropriate wielding of the seceteurs hey presto, one restored rose. I have to say it looks worse now than before but I have no doubt that it will flourish to provide glorious blooms throughout the summer on its one remaining stem. I am still trying to avoid mowing the other infant bloom.
May was a great month and of course the month of the Chelsea Flower Show. I am an avid watcher of the reporting of the show constantly looking for tips and ideas for designs for the Vicarage garden. I continue to be inspired by the great Charlie Dimmock whose refreshing outlook and enthusiasm for all things horticultural never ceases to amaze me and many others it seems (I even know a man who has the calendar!)
Well, back to the Vicarage garden. The advent of some summer like weather has seen some frantic activity in the garden. The mower has been in action at least once, the tomato and bean plants, kept under the watchful eye of the Vicar’s wife, are coming on a treat and the veg patch has been attacked ready I presume to receive incoming potatoes, marrow, carrots, onions etc. I can’t understand why, after the wettest autumn/winter since records began, we are having to water so often?
One minute we’re complaining about the incessant rain the next about the hot weather – you just can’t win! I have to say I am glad that the fine weather has arrived at last. I like the warm weather but can’t stand too much heat so one has to be very careful when contemplating gardening. Too much exposure in the sun can be very dangerous so I heed all the warnings and only venture into gardening when it is safe to do so.
One precaution I have taken is to bring out the swinging seat which gives a good level of protection from the harmful rays of the sun when positioned just perfectly under the Cherry Tree. It’s also very important to make sure you drink plenty! Yes, you’ve guessed it I always have a nice cold beer on hand when in the garden just to stave off dehydration!
Well, despite the obvious restrictions mentioned above some considerable progress has taken place in the vicarage garden. Since my last report I have spent several hours (or so it seemed) putting together (at the behest of the Vicar's wife) some old tent poles to construct a frame for the netting to cover the fruit bushes to prevent the birds pinching all our delicious raspberries, black currents and red currents. Having wrestled for ages and uttered one or two “oh dears” the whole thing collapsed in a heap. This despite copious bindings, string, tape and anything else we could lay our hands on. Instead we decided just to cover the bushes with the net and then sat back and watched every bird in the neighbourhood come and duck under the netting to help themselves to the ripening fruit.
Just to keep you up to date with other developments I can report that the tomatoes are coming along nicely, the beans are beginning to climb and the rhubarb is looking very good (shame it’s still in the ground and not on my plate). Patio pots are blooming and the borders are now a riot of colour! Remarkably the old water butt was empty at one point but an overnight downpour soon put that right.
We’ve just had a visit from my mum and dad and that is always good news for the garden. Gramps just can’t wait to get out there and get stuck in which is great. Unfortunately, unlike me, he doesn’t have an eye for the finer points of gardening hence some destruction is inevitable. One casualty was the little rose I have been nurturing. That got comprehensively mown – reminds me of the Psalm “The days of man are but as grass: for he flourisheth as a flower of the field. For as soon as the mower goeth over it, it is gone: and the place thereof shall know it no more” [Ps 103]. The other casualty, a climbing rose by the garage which we were really looking forward to seeing develop and burst into flower; that bit the dust and is now just a bare stalk slowly being strangled by bindweed. Nevertheless, the drive is now devoid of weeds and the whole garden looks remarkably tidy.
I think I need a break!
Joy of joys… last month Gramps was here beavering away in the garden, this month the mother-in-law. Try as I might to hold her back she just insisted on lending a hand. (I think she sees that I do so much in the garden it’s only reasonable to do a bit just to help me out).
The only problem is that, at this time of year, the garden is looking so impeccable that it is difficult to see just what needs doing. Eventually, it is decided that the bank along the road needs a little attention. It looked alright to me but at least it kept Sue and her mother amused for a while, well all afternoon to be precise! Tons of debris were hacked away, piled in the road, raked up and disposed of. I, for my part, put out two bollards to warn oncoming traffic of the hazard and handed a broom over the fence when commanded to do so. Just the thought of all that hard labour tired me so I retreated to the computer. Great job though, I have to say – I had forgotten that there was a stone wall underneath all that growth!
I don’t like to keep on about the weather but it is of course, for us gardeners, a critical factor on the amount one can do. July hasn’t been a good month – plenty (too much) rain and chilly evenings. I have been intending to mow the grass for a while but every time I think of the mower it rains. When it’s not raining the grass is just too wet to mow – so it had to wait. I hope to mow in August.
Have you noticed how the Gazebo is becoming the bit of kit for the garden? We have one, of course, and it has been up once this ‘summer’. I believe the intention is that one is shaded from the intensity of the sun however, in my experience they also provide very good shelter from pouring rain!
Anyway, back to the nitty gritty. I have just seen an enormous Dragonfly in the garden along with an assortment of butterflies. I imagine that we must have some plants and flowers that attract these creatures but for the life of me I think what they are.
The tomatoes are coming on a treat. I decided to feed them the other evening. I sat for ages with my hand out but they didn’t take a thing! I got fed up in the end and wandered off so they went hungry. We have enjoyed a few raspberries picked by Harriet. The few, that is, that actually made into the Vicarage before being eaten on the way in!
I was thinking of working feverishly to get everything in good order before the hols but Gramps is staying at the Vicarage while we are away so no need! Wicked!
I thought I was doing rather well in the garden. The ‘lawn’, well, grass has been cut quite often. The borders are reasonably well tended; after all I do like the ‘wild’ look. I blame the weather early on in the year for the lack of vast swathes of colour in the garden during the summer. And I would have put the barbecue away if only it wasn’t full of water from recent rain.
If you detect a certain dejectedness in my tone this month then you are right. Languishing in the ‘glory’ of the Vicarage garden, walking the leafy glades, breathing the fragrances of a million blooms... I was blissfully immune from the thought that other’s gardens might be slightly better. That was until one delightful Wednesday morning when the myth of the ‘glory’ of the Vicarage garden was shattered! Someone, clearly an avid reader of the reluctant gardener, showed me photos of their own garden and, wow, what a stunning display of blooms, pots & tubs, hanging baskets and more; a veritable feast of colour and beauty! Suddenly the tired old Vicarage garden seemed to lack that certain sparkle! Nevertheless, things aren’t so bad. The apple trees are laden. The Blackberries were very tasty and there are even a few pears high up in the pear tree. There is, though, a distinctly autumnal feel to the garden. The leaves are drifting off the trees, and the colours changing. The last of the beans were gathered some weeks ago and the tomatoes are virtually finished. Ah well, just memories now of summer past. I never even thought of getting the camera out to photograph the Vicarage garden – wish I had really just so I could reminisce on its high summer glory – perhaps it was better than I remember? Its certainly been hard work but well worth it. Well at least Gramps was here during August. He was able to give the lawn its final cut mid-August and tidy up before the onset of Autumn and winter. Oh to put one’s feet up! I’ll probably potter about in the weeks to come on the odd job but by and large that looks like it for another year. Roll on Spring!
April,
2002
21st March—the first day of Spring! I can always remember that date
because it’s my Dad’s birthday. Apart from this significance though
it also has great importance for gardeners everywhere and true to form the
sun shone and the urge to get going was (almost) irresistible. Time, I thought,
to mow the lawn. It had lain fallow since Gramps mowed whilst we were on holiday
in August. I am firmly of the opinion though that to mow during the winter
does the grass no good whatsoever, hence my own personal preference to leave
things alone until absolutely necessary. As I headed in the general direction
of where I thought the shed was last time I mowed I realised that perhaps
I had left it a little too long. I can see now how Wyndham was inspired to
write ‘The Day of the Triffids’! By the time I got to the shed
I was fairly wearied but pressed on regardless. I struggled to disentangle
to mower which had somehow got buried under piles of caravan equipment, flower
pots, deck chairs and miles of tangled cable that I’m sure I wound up
last season. The initial surge of enthusiasm was waning rapidly but despite
a distinct inner feeling that this wasn’t such a good idea, I thought,
‘‘no, I’ll press on…’. The fact that there was
petrol in the can was a good omen. At last, standing on the patio ruffled
and slightly irritated I went through the starting up procedure by moving
the lever from ‘idle’ to ‘fast’ and proceeded to pull
the cord. I wasn’t surprised it didn’t start first time—after
all it is seven months since it last ran! However, after several exhausting
minutes of frantic exertion I did expect at least an encouraging ‘phutt,
phutt’. By now my arm was aching and I began uttering a few words of
encouragement to the mower and the veiled threat that if it wished to avoid
the scrap heap it had better start. All to no avail. I knew I shouldn’t
have started this ridiculous enterprise. It surely wouldn't be that long before
Gramps visits again and I do rather like the full bodied lawn. I lurched for
one of the garden chairs which I had discovered in my quest to release the
mower and sat contemplating my next move. Suddenly, I saw the light and it
dawned on me that the best course of action would be; to give up. So I did.
My arm is still aching.
Back to Home Page
May 2002
For those of you who worry about such things I begin this month by putting
you out of your misery by confirming that, thanks to the excellent service
provided by Mike Stevens, the mower is now back in action! What’s more,
believe it or not, I’ve actually mowed the ‘lawn’! You wouldn't
believe how bereft I was for those few anxious days without my trusty mower.
Now, what else is happening in the Vicarage garden. Well, things are going
pretty well. My cultivation of the ‘wild’ theme has been a stunning
success. The daffodils, primroses and bluebells have been glorious. The blossom
on the trees, deeply spiffing and the lawns are looking most professional.
Something, though is lacking. In some ways my contribution to the garden has
been rather poultry. At times my wife’s language has been fowl especially
when I haven’t done as asked, but there has been something lacking.
When all the challenges have been risen to, plants planted and veg vied for,
one begins to yearn for something more in the garden. Having been couped
up over the winter months the search for the greater gardening challenge took
on a greater urgency. What, I kept asking myself, could I take on to stretch
the imagination without ruffling too many feathers. I desperately needed something
to egg me on in the garden. With a wife and three daughters constantly clucking
at me—suddenly it dawned on me. My thoughts began to run away with me—the
way ahead must be Chickens!! My first step was to consult a chicken expert.
So I tapped the chicken wire for ideas and information. Enter centre stage
Vi Lakeman. The greatest chicken expert in the land. Before I knew it I was
knee deep in hay, corn and chicken meal. My natural instincts for DIY were
suddenly rekindled and before you could say ‘£2 a dozen’,
despite the fact it was boiling, I was hard at it. Whatever Sue might say,
I am rather proud of chicken run Mk 1. It might look as if it is about to
collapse but it is in fact rather robust—and what’s more the chickens
love it. Come the day of delivery there was great excitement in the Vicarage
garden. Vi turned up, and despite my best efforts to let persuade her to let
me carry the bale of hay she insisted...the chickens emerged from their box
and were immediately at ease scratching and pecking, as they do. (I did move
the BBQ just so as not to upset them.) Five days down the line I am rather
weary. All this getting up at the crack of dawn to let them out is very tiring.
Every morning, with great anticipation, we search high and low for eggs...but
despite having shelled out—not a sausage!
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June 2002
Eggscellent! The chickens are laying. I can tell you its no yolk when
they don’t, but now everything's all white. It is strange though looking
out over the vast expanse of the Vicarage garden seeing grazing chickens.
It’s a bit like a scene from Jurassic Park. The creatures moving slowly
and menacingly across the lawn… I’ve had a few other scary moments
too. Most previous wummagings in the undergrowth have been down to Sue doing
whatever she does in the undergrowth. Now upon investigation I find that it
is chickens determined to exterminate every living thing. As I sit in my study
admiring the garden all I see now is debris flying through the air and chickens
scratching furiously. Bird tables, plants, patio chairs, BBQ’s, swinging
chairs, sheds all go flying by in the interests of a plump morsel. One other
problem. I now have to tread rather carefully in the garden. This has nothing
to do with fragile plants or pristine lawns but rather piles of chicken poo
absolutely everywhere. The chickens too, seem to invade every space. Today,
I was shocked to find one sitting watching News 24 in the lounge. I suppose
the only thing I was surprised at that, was it didn’t ask me for a Gin
& tonic.
Now, these chicken have given me a new lease of life. As I reported last month
I was on the look out for a new gardening challenge and the chickens have
certainly given me that. If you are reading this standing up you might want
to sit at this point. OK, this may surprise you, but in the pre-chickenite
era I detested DIY stores and DIY for that matter. Definitely not for me I
thought but that was before the chickens arrived. Since their arrival I have
built the chicken house (OK, it was a flat pack) and designed and built chicken
run mark II. And that’s not all folks. How about this; Sue has wanted
a Greenhouse for a while, well 25 years actually, so I bought her one for
her birthday. Shock, horror—the greenhouse comes flat packed too! The
instructions looked like plans to build a nuclear reactor and there were literally
millions of bits but, I deciphered, mulled over (almost gave up) and interpreted
the plans for and then built it! We are now generating our own electricity
from our own nuclear powered greenhouse (I’ve just read in the FT that
there is indeed a company that generates electricity from chicken dung—now
there’s a thought)! Actually, its not a ‘green’ house but
silver. For some reason the ‘green’ coloured version cost a £100
more?
To mark this amazing temporary and probably short lived enthusiasm Sue bought
me a new drill. You wouldn’t believe what you can do with those things
nowadays. In particular I enjoy the Luke Skywalker impression using the device
as a laser gun…..but it can also drive screws, drill, hammer and light
my way in the dark (it came with an attachable torch!). The only problem with
having such an up to date wonder of modern science is that none of my other
25 year old DIY kit (despite having never been used) is up to the job. I tried
to drill a hole in a piece of metal and hey presto, just my luck, the drill
broke and I found myself, having hunted high and low for half an hour for
the remains, trying to drill with a 3mm fragment of retrieved twisted metal—which
does wonders for the enthusiasm. This particular drill even comes with an
attachment to mix Pimms, Martini or Gin & Tonics for the chickens! The
croquet attachment must be extra. Roll on Summer!
Fr. Christopher, Your horticultural (and chicken farming, or should that be
charming?) Vicar.
PS I find myself currently in something of a dilemma. Having just watched
the Chelsea Flower Show and seen how well the ’wild’ garden themes
did in competition I am tempted to consider sharing some of my expertise in
the design field. On the other hand I am thinking about the Cornwall Show
where I could show the chickens. Given the success of the chickens I am swayed
towards the chicken showing but given my careful design, tending and development
of the ‘wild’ garden maybe I should consider Chelsea next year?
I floated these ideas before Susan and her reply is, you might be surprised,
unprintable.
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July 2002
Question? What does Fr. Christopher have in common with Charlie Dimmock? Well,
you might say, an unrestrained... enthusiasm for gardening, or perhaps a remarkable
physique perfectly suited to lifting heavy weights, or even, an eye for design
and an amazing capacity for hard work in the garden. All admirable attempts
at answering the question but not quite the answer I was looking for. The
answer is in fact that we both have a love of water features in the garden!
I have been wanting to branch out into the water feature market for a while
now but have been rather preoccupied with chickens and the like. Now though
the time has come. I woke on the morning of 16th June oblivious of the fact
that it was Father’s Day, but this was the catalyst. Knowing how keen
I am on gardening my family are never stuck for ideas for presents. Anything
horticultural will do. So it was, come lunch time after the Sunday services,
I held out my arms preparing to be showered with unexpected presents, and
to my great joy, when I opened my eyes, there it was! An instant and complete
‘Do-it-Yourself’ Water Feature. Simple, all that was required
was a very substantial hole to dug to accommodate the feature, a trench approximately
4o feet long to be gouged out to take the pipe to be sunk into it for the
power supply to run the pump, one large and heavy paving slab to be lifted,
a hole to be drilled through the shed for the wire and plug, plants to planted
and rocks to be positioned. As I was savouring the moment someone suggested
that we got cracking and began the installation! I prefer the considered approach
myself and as my thoughts turned to drawings and plans of construction I realised
that construction had already begun! Pick axes were wielded and spades despatched
to the task or should I say tasks. In only a few minutes I was being nagged
and couldn’t avoid the spade being thrust in my direction. What would
have taken me weeks to accomplish was achieved in just a few hours thanks
to the help of Gramps and other family members. In the end I confined myself
to the difficult technical bits of the installation—you know—the
wiring and the hole in the shed. And, wow, what a stunning water feature we
now have. I now languish by the ‘pool’ serenaded by the trickling
water and calming effect of the fountain. Amazing.
Well, what else. Just for record, the flowering pots are glorious—a
blaze of dazzling colours strewn across the patio. Strategically placed pots
add a splash of colour on the lawn which break the monotony of the grass when
seeking the late evening summer sun (what summer sun you may ask?) for a BBQ
down the garden. Elsewhere, lupins vie for position with foxgloves and the
cascade of lavender blends with the subtle shades of dandelion and daisy.
The rhubarb ruminates and the berries bustle as they approach maturity. The
is no doubt that I have created an environment of great peace and tranquillity,
where the eye is drawn to the unusual and the interest is intense. The sanctuary
of utopia is only shattered by the constant intrusion of the chickens. A few
moments grabbed for a quiet lunch time in the garden is fraught with difficulties.
Chickens line up to fly up onto the table snatching Doritos or chunks of cheese
before being swiped to the ground by Sue. One leans forward for the mayonnaise
only to find the chair occupied by a chicken or two. A carelessly placed bottle
of beer is sampled by another and even a blazing BBQ invites investigation
from the gang. (I am careful though when ‘doing’ chicken to keep
it under wraps for fear of insulting our fowl friends.) And I use that word
‘friends’ deliberately. Despite the constant annoyance and tendency
to trip over them because they just wont get out of the way there is a definite
connection and bond between us. Maybe I haven’t been as careful as I
should when disguising their dismembered mates when preparing for a BBQ and
they just want to befriend me but no, I think its more than that. They are
genuinely friendly and like to be around even though I wish they’d buzz
off. I’ve made it clear though. If they don’t produce I’ve
threatened them with Vi. And you know what that means…
The term ‘Henmania’ means different things to different people. Strangely, to the parishioners of St. John and Millbrook, the term relates not to the cult follows of a tennis player, as you might
have thought, but rather to a cult band of people fascinated and enthused by chickens! ‘Henmania’ was given a further boost following, not Wimbledon, but the visit of our new Jazz Band friends from the USA, Band du Soleil who were intrigued by the Vicarage chickens. By some remarkable coincidence they had composed a piece of music entitled ‘Ballet of the Unhatched Chickens’ which features on their debut CD and immediately upon setting eyes on our chickens the band were enchanted and became very excited. Acting as agent on behalf of the chickens, whose membership of ‘Equity’ has not yet been validated, I had to ensure that their image was not exploited when the cameras came out. After some negotiation I allowed limited filming of the chickens, both movie and stills, who will now appear on the internet and possibly, if the money’s OK, on future CD covers. It seems that despite the ‘People of God’ initiative, us clergy continue to extend ourselves into new areas of responsibility, managing chickens being just one! Yet again these pesky creatures seem to create even more work.
Now on to something rather more serious. If, like me, you are an avid viewer of TV Gardening programmes you will know that great gardeners like that Dermud chappie or Alan Glitchmarch tend to get their inspiration and ideas from various sources. Well, me, I get mine from the telly. I was watching the new series of ‘River Cottage’ last week and, having moved into the diversified garden scenario, I immediately identified with Hugh Ferney-Thingumyjig. He’s got pigs cows and sheep and has even branched out into fancy chickens as well (perhaps he reads The Reluctant Gardener?). Mind you his chickens must be of the pedigree variety—ten quid each they were! Anyway, the thought of having dead animals hanging in the chimney to smoke doesn’t appeal to Sue but I like the idea of being self sufficient and, being a bit of a gastronought, eating all that home produced fayre. The only problem is that Hugh seems to combine his ‘extreme gardening’ with a bit of cooking, which, as you may know, is not one of my strong points. Stuffing goose necks and rummaging in entrails is not the sort of thing that I like to engage in really. I prefer it when it just appears on the plate, preferably with a nice glass of wine to accompany it. Nevertheless, I am attracted to the idea of expansion. Maybe pigs? Well only a couple, and sheep– think of what I’d save on petrol for the mower. The thought of eating your own home produced bacon (with those eggs!) and wearing jumpers made from home grown wool. All I’d need would be someone to wring the pigs neck (I have someone in mind) and hey presto, home cured bacon. Watch this space because I’ll be working on the idea. One small problem is that the girls wont eat anything that doesn’t come from Tescos. I’m sure they think that chicken, pork, beef and lamb are somehow cultured in clingfilm and grow to maturity in battery freezers?!
Finally, following my massive exertion in walking to Glastonbury I have to report a short period of inactivity in the garden, hence the pondering. The wellies have remained untouched in the shed for a bit whilst my feet recover. Sue did insist on walking to the garage to get the petrol for the mower though. I would happily have gone if only I could have walked that far. The pain means that I now lurch from the lounge to the deckchair and have to make do with thinking about what I ought to be doing in the garden. I can just about cope with leaning forward to tend the BBQ and, whilst in an inclined attitude, lunge for my glass. I just hope my feet enable me to resume gardening when we return from holiday!
The big question in August was ‘will the chickens survive?’ ‘Survive what you’ may ask? Well, the annual holiday this year presented us with, what some might have seen as a poultry challenge.
I had been under the impression that it was now possible to take animals abroad if they were electronically tagged but I understand from Brittany Ferries that this does not apply to livestock! So there was nothing for it but to leave the trusty birds behind in the care and nurture of Clare, our eldest daughter, who, it has to be said, does not share our enthusiasm for our fowl friends.
As a consequence of our dilemma we began an intensive course for Clare in chicken keeping. First, the high heels had go
as they tended to sink into the mire and the sharp heels speared undesirable objects. Sadly, we also discovered that the manicured nails were not ideal for mucking out. White jeans also seemed inappropriate as did the pastel coloured, very expensive blouse. Despite their natural affection chickens, it seems have little regard for designer wear. Despite an initial reluctance to plunge her hand into the grain and pellet sacks our assurance that the heinous hens wouldn’t survive for a month without food was sufficient incentive to encourage a tentative attempt at accessing the food.
As well as the practical instruction a comprehensive list was drawn up showing the sequence of necessary events from dawn till dusk. 1. Get out of bed 2. Proceed to garden to open hen house door before applying make up etc. etc. leading to the more practical instructions like checking the water might have seemed over the top in circumstances other than these. Apart from mistaking extreme friendliness on the part of the chickens as a major ‘chicken attack’, whereupon she vacated the chicken pen with unaccustomed haste, Clare seemed to be warming to the cocky chocks. Assurances that there was no such thing as ‘killer chickens’ calmed the situation considerably.
And so it was we waved, what might have been, a final farewell to the feathered fiends. We left, putting the thought of Clare’s past husbandry experience, which had not been good (one dehydrated Goldfish and an harassed hamster to name but two incidents), to the back of our minds.
In fact, to our astonishment, all was more than well! Clare almost suffocated under a mountain of runner beans, found the cut and thrust of local egg marketing rather challenging and amazingly... the chickens survived! Regular phone calls from France and Italy confirmed that the birds were blossoming in her care. Reports from the homestead were of rather plump poultry and our fears grew that the eminently barbecueable birds might be sacrificed in the name of a good social!
“What?” you might say, has all this to do with gardening, well the answer lies in my modern holistic approach to horticulture and the inextricable link with the environment and the well-being of the planet. Chickens seem to kept pests at bay, they naturally, scarify the ground, their droppings are environmentally friendly and useful and their presence calms the nerves all of which contribute to the success or otherwise of the garden. Anyway, on to other things to report! The runner beans have been prolific despite attempts by the kamikaze chickens which launch themselves to get to them before us. The tomatoes however, have been disappointing—not much of a crop. No melons either. But the rhubarb has come on superbly! I think next year it will be cropping healthily. The relatively poor weather has meant that the lawns have remained a lush green throughout the summer and the various pots strategically and carefully placed for best effect has been a cascade of colour bringing absolute joy to all those who beheld them. They were nevertheless, looking rather sorry upon our return from holiday and have now been consigned to the compost heap. The apples don’t seem so good this year either. Many are blighted with black spots which look very unappetising but before long I shall be scaling the trees to retrieve the best specimens. Strikes me I might introduce ‘rotation’ in the garden. A year off to let the earth recover a regain its fertility is an attractive concept given the poor tomato crop and dodgy apples...but that would mean no work in the garden for a whole year……...shame.
A paper version of 'The Reluctant Gardener' is available from the Vicar priced £2.00 including postage and packing to UK destinations.