The new year has well and truly started (ahem: it's nearly summer!), but I'm just waking up to the fact that I still have a blog about my garden.
By way of re-introduction, here are some photos that I took at the start of the year after several months of leaving the garden to its own devices ...
Before winter, we had a last (small and tasty) crop of multi-coloured carrots:
The burdock that I planted at the start of August were ready to be lifted in December. Unfortunately, they weren't too big:
Then nothing until the following year. Time to survey the damage ...
On entering the tunnel in early May, the first thing I notice is various streamers festooning the ceiling. Not exactly a cause for celebration, as the non-slip backing from the anti-hotspot tape has separated from the rest of it. These days there's considerably more squeaking whenever the wind blows. That's not the worst of it, though ...
In an effort to minimise mould over the winter, I often left the front door of the tunnel open, including during storms. The prevailing wind blows through there and by spring I could see the effects (hindsight = 20:20). Besides the various debris knocked off the staging area, you can also see that the skirt at the back of the tunnel has become unburied. If left too long, the whole canopy could have taken off with the wind.
What a scene of carnage! Well, I guess I couldn't call it unexpected. The billowing back wall has knocked various trays and surviving pot plants onto the ground and the skirt has continued to ride up (oo-er) further towards the front of the tunnel. On the left are my perennial (yeah, right) chilli peppers which actually succumbed in early winter.
The peppers are dead? I'll just confirm that they're dead:
Yes, the peppers are dead.
Between chilli peppers and lemongrass (two things that have no Godly reason to exist at such latitudes), I have two survivors. Of course, couched in such a way, things can be expected to not end well with these two:
Perhaps I shouldn't have used such an excited tone in talking about these two. In fact they're quite healthy (for now). But I'm sure that you're all wondering what their ultimate fate will be? So as not to cause any undue stress and nervous tension (stress and nervous tension are now serious social problems in all parts of the Galaxy, after all), I will reveal their ultimate fate:
- the chervil on the right was transplanted indoors, provided some flavouring for various scrambled egg dishes, then died eventually while trying to bolt (unlike like Logan and his run)
- the semi-cos lettuce on the left survived the slug attacks that killed his brothers and sisters, but succumbed to 30+ degree heat when I forgot to open the vents in the tunnel when the hot weather hit
But I'm getting ahead of myself ...
The kohlrabi on the left did survive the winter without bolting and we did eat the bulb of the green plants. Nobody wants to eat komatsuna that's bolted, though, so it went in the compost 'Dalek'.
The tour isn't over yet. We've not even done 180 degrees.
Behold, the wonder that is one third of the main tunnel growing space: the roots bed!
OK, so the burdock at the bottom have already been lifted (foreshadowing: they're not completely gone) and the rest of the stuff is looking a bit sparse (particularly the spinach in the top corners). In fact the rest of the areas didn't turn out too well, either. The root parsley in the middle only provided tiny (but admittedly tasty) roots, while the salads in the top/middle did hang on for a few more weeks without bolting. The star of this picture has to be the Claytonia (big patch in the top right). It kept on growing for weeks after and even re-seeded after I'd turned the whole bed over.
Equally obvious here are the areas covered by mould (white) and moss (green). Evidently the micro-climate inside the tunnel over the winter agrees with them. If only they were edible...
Deeper into the recess of this micro-climate, mould and moss still hold sway. At the bottom are the Senshuu onions, which seem to have overwintered OK in a very non-regimented way. Barely visible above them are the Ishikura negi. I didn't give up on them and actually they managed to thrive later on. At the top are more spinach and beetroots, which got composted. It's depressing to lose the beets and spinach but things do eventually turn out all right for the guys in the Allium family (until we eat them--mwuahaha!).
Yes, this is supposed to be an "over-wintering vegetable bed."
It's a pathetic excuse for one, that's what I say. If I were a bear with the requisite number of opposable digits (needed to sow seeds in the autumn) and I awoke to find this "limp" (it's not a "stand") of veg growing on my pillow, I would not be best pleased. In fact, it would remind me of how much I hate spring and I would probably set out to kill and eat the nearest postman, insurance salesman or hobo that I could find. Granted, I would probably be shot, but in my defence I would simply point and mime "do you see what it is that I'm reduced to eating after several months of starvation?" Wouldn't you have some compassion?
To be fair, the scraggly looking greens in the front did manage to produce some fairly nice broccoli/cauliflower heads and we also ate some passable (if tough) greens (boiled then roasted with a small amount of sesame oil):
The curds themselves were nice enough but I always seemed to harvest them a day or two late. They certainly weren't big eretrospectnough or "fractally" enough to consider using them as part of a yearly rotation plan.
Speaking of rotation, I seem to have come full circle with my poly tunnel photo diary. Were things outside my
Unfortunately not. The scenes in the outside bed were so depressing that I didn't even bother taking photographs. I may be a glutton, but not for punishment. I know when enough is too much.
As I write this, it's almost June. So obviously we survived the winter and the hungry gap (thanks, supermarkets!). Things did get better and the new year brought new opportunities for planting and harvesting. I'll get to those anon ...
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