hosecraft

It surprises me sometimes, the small threads that far bigger decisions hang on. It was when I was particularly brassed off with the hose that always kinked and leaked that I decided to get a new one. You might think that the cords of logic and economy and knowledge would twine together to hang a prudent purchase on. But I went out and bought a magnificent Italian garden hose, 4 times the price of everything else. Ahh the joys of retail therapy and it wasn't my money so I got a few other things besides. Actually the thread that fueled it was that I felt unappreciated, and purchasing a good peice of equipment gave value to my work and my time. Is it L'Oreal that has that insightful marketing angle 'Because I'm worth it' and who can argue with that?

Of course I'm still procrastinating on THE BIG GARDEN which has proved to be a fruitful time for attending to smaller details. A bit like when you're sitting exams and suddenly the room is spotlessly clean and you're doing any number of things out of character to avoid the necessary evil of study.
Well the aforementioned hose has a fixed site, glasshouse one, and could argueably be cut to perfect size so there is never any excess to trip over or get entangled in. Except that occasionally it is required in its full capacity so I neatly coiled up the excess by the tap and although the rest is left out it looks loved and cared for; in the style of this one above. Jane's garden in Dunedin.
I came back from Nelson admiring the rough and tumble of their gardens, the mix of flowers, weeds and vegetables rumbled together and thinking I should loosen up. Looks like the garden has done that for me while I was away.

That's the broccolli in the foreground; the lot that got the extra water last week. The first night we had some for tea Jude flicked a large yellow thing out on to the table. 'What's that? (horrified voice) It looks like a spine.' Any number of things went through my mind, mostly along the lines of concealment. But no, a positive caterpillar identification quickly followed and another green vegetable fell off the menu.
How many people know that I grew a watermelon last year? The plants were mysteriously fruitless and by about now, early February I was ready to pull them out in disgust. As I came in close to grasp one particular plant by the neck my foot kicked something hidden by the wall...in describing it later I made the mistake of saying the first thing that came into my head. 'It was as big as, as big as...(looking around) Louis' head.' Louis did not appreciate the comparison.
I only bring it up because of the lacklustre performance from the cucumbers. Last year we had gherkins by the bucketful so this year I tentatively planted 2 of each cucumber thinking we would be swamped.

Reached in today to execute one specimen. No, you can relax now, 'green shorts' has had a reprieve; one fruit has been sighted amongst a sea of foliage. The telegraph has proved to be the only reliable performer with restrained foliage and regular fruit. The others might need hand pollination. Can't think why.

Amongst a week of solid fruit preserving the tomatoes are finally ripening like billy oh and it's serious harvesting. My Mouli (one of them) is sitting on top of the pot poised for action. Funny how I've never noticed quite how much the handle looks like a tomato too.

Did anybody else read this weeks Poet's Corner in the ODT? Martha Morseth, Then Luck Will Come. I've had two letters this week so my luck has arrived with a trumpet blast. I think thats why I like it.

There must be a moment
when wind stops,
trees hang limp and sleep comes easy,
when postmen slip hope
into hungry letter boxes.

Each time I pluck the petals
the daisies come out wrong.
Most things I know:
how glass shatters against hard surfaces;
teeth ache when cold;
spring often comes late.

Better to watch clouds
nudge their way across the harbour,
notice webs shudder with light,
see fantails careen, hear tuis cackle.
Then luck can arrive unnoticed.

garden meanderings

About those artichokes, ahem. It may not look like many in the basket but it took ages to trim them down to almost nothing with a small knife and have another go. Too late I looked up Mastering the Art of French Cooking (Simone Beck, Louisette Bertholle, Julia Child) full of loads of ideas. Too late I read my trusty Koanga Garden Guide (Kay Baxter) and found out they were a seasonal harvest. Somehow I imagined they would flower on indefinitely and I could play around with them but looks like that might be this years bounty and now they are boiled and sitting in french dressing in the fridge and they don't look good. As for eating them, I'm on my own. Sorry Jen, I'm going to need some direction.
(Saw this wheelbarrow while we were in Waimate and it just took my fancy. What a workhorse.)

One thing about growing vegetables you quickly get into a seasonal rhythm because unlike the supermarket, in the garden things aren't normally available all year around. Or if they are, like potatoes, they are changing all the time. New potatoes at first that are good for boiling whole, potato salads etc. As time marches on the skins get tougher and won't scrape off anymore, now they need peeling. Later still the starches in the potato change, they are drier and can now be mashed and baked and make great roast potatoes and chips.
Well runner beans are one of those few things that you can just pick every other day for weeks. There will often be both a flower and a full grown bean on the same spray.

This magnificent example is at Mum's place growing behind the clothesline. I took a lot of photos of thrifty, creative gardens in Nelson; this would have to be the smallest. Note to self: a small garden is easier to maintain.
The vegetable garden is in such disarray at the moment that I've taken to my own flower garden at the house with new enthusiasm. I can get great results in a short space of time and everytime I look out the window I can enjoy seeing the difference.
I have ventured out to the vegetable garden to water the broccolli which has little heads peeping through. There are a few particular times when plenty of water pays off for yield and this is one of them. If something is producing continually of course then it's going to need continuous water too.

So getting back to those potatoes which are turning a little starchy.

Spiced Indian Potatoes

Scrub and boil them whole for 15 mins then cut into cubes. Oven: about 200 C. Grease the tray. Spread out one layer deep. Drizzle over a little oil, finely grate fresh ginger over and sprinkle on spice mix: 1 t cumin ground, 1/2 t cumin seed, 1 t salt, pinch of cayenne. Mix and bake about 25 mins. Enjoy.

End of the long hot summer

It hasn't been hot enough or nearly long enough and school starts on Monday. Too soon. It was always too soon.
Marble Hill DOC camping site on the Lewis Pass and here's the key to carboot camping: a Polish coffee in a cup. Never mind that young delinquints had tried to jemmie the donations tin off the post in the night, or the family who arrived at what felt like 2am but was only about 12.30 and set up noisily beside us, that coffee in the morning set everything right for another great day of holidays.

Home to some serious gardening. The weeds are up to my armpits, or at least kneepits and for the first few days I just contemplated where to begin. I can be at home and feel overwhelmed about all the things to do but once you walk around the garden it quickly becomes apparent what is the now job. Well I know there is garlic in here somewhere.

First thing I like to do is clear the path so I can walk and bring in the wheelbarrow easily. The easiest way I find on a dirt path is to use a sharp spade and just whip along slicing the tops off all the weeds. It's easy and fast. Note the hose snaking along the path as they often do. It's a good idea to identify such things and move from the line of destruction...nearly hacked a hole in it; whoops.
The drought has broken and the ground is unusually wet. The skin on the garlic is starting to break down and a few bulbs have rotted so I want to get it dug and drying.

Half the row done and it's fragile at this stage and needs a few days to harden up. Then it's clip the roots back to a tidy nub and buff off only the damaged outer layer of skin which will give a clean groomed bulb that we can use until next year's crop. The more layers of skin you leave on the better it keeps. I'll move it onto racks with good air circulation in a dry room, the garlic room as it happens.

I've got plenty of photos of other people's gardens from holiday and quite a bit happening in the vege box: the first cucumber which will have to be taken on trust because I ate it immediately, without taking a photo and I haven't found any more yet. Lots of beans, and the first tomatoes. Another category to follow up springs to mind: garden casualties...back soon.

Rain

One of the great things growing up was that we always went out on Sunday afternoons walking, and took afternoon tea in a backpack: thermos or thermette and a packet of biscuits very carefully counted and measured out. When it really rained we might get as far as the Claremont St playground (only a few blocks away but trees to huddle under) or for lesser rain, a walk to town to go window shopping. Of course now the shops are open 7 days a week so you wouldn't have the street to yourselves or be locked out.
And here they are, noses pressed against the glass to see what lies in the world outside, thistles window shopping. It's all out of reach.
Thistles have a long taproot which can't help but bring up nutrients so in my home garden I dig them up and chuck them around the fruit trees to mulch and feed the ground, covering with other things as they come along. They have a beautiful purple flower and our En Hakkore honey has significant thistle notes. However, these are already on the compost heap. Their prickles seem to be the last thing to break down. Ouch.

The flowers are not unlike the globe artichokes if they too are allowed to fully flower. How merrily I said the first artichoke was ready to eat '... and don't worry, there are plenty more.' There will always be plenty more. I can see already that no-one else on the property is going to bother with them. For a medium/small size you boil them about 12 mins and pull off leaf by leaf to eat, dip in butter. Small ones can be trimmed and eaten whole. It probably didn't help that at the same meal we had pork bones and corn cobs. Yes it was all finger food but I had to get in a box for the debris. (corn husks, cobs, bones, artichoke everything) You only eat the little nut of each artichoke leaf and then scrape out the choke and eat up the heart. Giles said it was like eating a potato in very small slices, without it being a bag of crisps.

I can't remember whether I mentioned that from 2 pkts of seed I got 204 corn plants plus a little bundle of scrappy ones. I felt a bit like Mme Makutsi (No. 1 Ladies Detective Agency, Alexander McCall Smith) with her unheard of 97 % from the Botswana Secretarial School. I know it's a very grand comparison but in my mind, I considered emailing Kings seeds to let them know, or perhaps send a photo; not that I would expect a certificate, but if it came I suppose it would have to hang down in the glasshouse. The corn had never been potted up after germination and was too big to transplant without being shocked. In those first few days of post planting trauma I must have been considering all this out loud because my friend Ruth, who was there at the time, commented that I should see how many plants made it through before totting up my record results. They look a bit shabby but are pulling through.

Here's Louis, and Phillip on the right picking blackcurrants down by the Nurses Home (in the background). My difficult lesson of the week about a stitch in time and all that.

The pruning window for blackcurrants is a large one running from Summer while picking through to early next Spring; nevertheless for various reasons I missed it. The result is masses of small blackcurrants instead of large dessert ones. What that means is that you can multiply the time it takes to pick them by about 5 and for the record, note words like tedious, frustrating and poor results. Add to that the final insult, you spend your available time for the week picking them instead of doing the other things that need to be done. Some roads you only need to go down once. I've been there, time to move on.

Runner beans are in the vege box incidentally, probably crushed under the weight of courgettes for which I am fast running out of recipes. Am digging a little garlic as needs go, which isn't really ready yet and starting to use the onions because too much water at this stage rots them. I use a big sprinkler at this time of year to water everything but it falls not only on the things that need it but also on the things that should be drying out. Careful thought and planning could help if they get the opportunity. The year is full of possibilities.

After all that today it really did rain. What better way to finish than with Hone Tuwhare's Rain. It's probably old hat to anyone younger than me but when I was at school, and University we didn't study NZ poets (!).

Rain

I can hear you

making small holes

in the silence

rain

If I were deaf

the pores of my skin

would open to you

and shut

And I

should know you

by the lick of you

if I were blind

the something

special smell of you

when the sun cakes

the ground

the steady

drum-roll sound

you make

when the wind drops

But if I

should not hear

smell or feel or see

you

you would still

define me disperse me

wash over me

rain

A good day for gardening

It has just occurred to me that this blog is a little like my life at the moment: trying to fit too many things onto one page.
It's a very typical squeeze in the gardening calendar, especially where you have a short growing season. In fact, I go down to the garden and feel very much like a primary school teacher with a large class of small children, who all want attention at once. The trick is knowing which voice to attend to first.

The tomatoes are very interesting at the moment and I've come to the conclusion that the biggest factor in yield is genetics. Next year I'll put most of my money on ... moneymaker which has reliably set good clusters of tomatoes and has had less deviants. Which brings me to Beefsteak which has thrown up all sorts of variants all of which produce less fruit.
1. Sometimes the flowering spur is not obviously attatched to a growing tip. The stalk splits in two, thus (below left) and then you have two tips. Productivity drops right away. The answer is to choose one leader and pinch the other one out.
2. No growth tip. The plant grinds to a halt and only sets one spur of fruit. (I forgot to put in the picture for this and haven't mastered the art of adding it in.) Answer is to replace the plant with the spare ones you are nursing along in pots, hopefully. Be ruthless. It won't come to anything.
3. Great looking flowers, (Photo on the right) the plant is covered with them but there's something wrong. I'll have to do a side-by-side analysis but they look wrong and haven't set any fruit over the whole plant.

This is Not Companion Planting

What I learnt last year, with pumpkins and corn, is that companion planting doesn't mean putting two things in the place of one. Each needs room to grow. Well I planted that corn that's cramming out the beans, the Chieftain hybrid, and intended to pot it up until there was space to plant it. Corn resents being moved and is a difficult seed to germinate unless you are in the know. This time I clearly got it right, planted the seed into watered ground, covered it with a sack and left it until it germinated. Out of two packets (Kings Seeds) I have transplanted 150 seedlings today and still another 50 at least to go. Every seed in the pack must have sprouted.
This works well for large seeds which can otherwise rot.
Oh that's what I was saying, I missed the moment to pot it up and decided to leave it until it could go straight into the ground.

Here's another corn/bean suffocating friendship combo; the mistakes here are barely enough space for the corn and then the beans went in too late and were rapidly outgrown by the corn so haven't got the light or nutrient they need. I'll move them even at this late stage when I can make space somewhere.

Here's the seedlings in my flash new trays. Some of these will go out into the shade house for a week or so to harden off. The other thing I could do is plant them straight into the garden and cover them with a cloche (an empty plastic bottle with the bottom cut off) for a few days for extra protection. The birds enjoy them as a snack and they don't want to be drying out. Probably their biggest threat at the moment is that I'm going on holiday and like all mothers, nobody loves them like I do.

The perfect photo in the gardening magazine, or on a packet of seed, is at the end of a very long chain which is not always completed. It also doesn't matter. When I planted the broad beans in April into very poor soil there were a number of things I was considering: they became a useful windbreak, the beans fix nitrogen and the soil in point was no longer lying bare over winter. Growing them prepares the way to grow something else better there next. Well besides all that we have eaten quite a few along the way and then eventually I did get around to picking them, co-incidentally just when there were plenty of spare hands around to help pod them.
By this stage they were fairly large and less than ideal eating but I rewarded their tenacity, lavishing them with a bit of extra attention. All the larger ones I have skinned, it's not hard, and this way I know that in the middle of winter they will be an appealing find in the freezer. Yes, nobody loves them like I do. It's also one of the things that is so rewarding about gardening. The satisfaction of paying attention to details that make the difference.

Three quarters of the potatoes were gone by Christmas Eve. A queue of black plastic bags by the door as the men filled the orders and away they went. Bye bye.
Well yesterday was scorching hot, too hot to garden so I took the kids down to the river for a swim and then watered the garden in the evening. And then today the cold weather, wind and bits of rain came through which made it a perfect day to be in the glasshouse planting corn. The weather is always good for gardening.
Now the notice board has fallen off the toilet wall and I have no poety forum until it's fixed. So I will put one more thing on the already crowded page. A poem by Andrew Johnston from his book How to Talk which I picked up at the Naseby book sale for $1.25 yesterday.
For the record, the ladies went to the book sale and then had a coffee at the Black Forest Cafe.

The Poetry Inspector

has been sent by the tradition
to check our
nails. His are impeccable

as his crisp tones, which come to a
point
somewhere over the horizon. This

is called verse
perspective
says the verse detective

filing his ironies.
He says
we're menaced by

nebulosities
and smiles;

he can tell us if our
poems have class,
whether our nails fail or pass.

We should render our
caesuras
to the things that are England's

encapsulates the tenor of
his findings;
he sometimes spares a word of praise

for good
measure-
it should be said

the poetry inspector
sometimes hits the
nail on the head

optimum versus possible

This is the time of year when the distance between what needs to be done and what gets done stretches out like a very long peice of elastic. Not that it's anything new: case in point globe artichokes. I planted the seed in autumn and it overwintered in the glasshouse. They are not particularly frost tolerant which may end up being a problem here where we have up to -12 frosts. I'm going to cover them with hay in the winter, and see if it blows away, or not. Anyway, the plant on the right and its fortunate companions was planted in timely fashion into reasonable conditions. A winter mulch of newspaper, leaves and peastraw over couch grass (lawn) amongst the fruit trees. Add shelter from the wind, and water as regularly as anything else, voila.

Several months later, surviving in pots, sibling plants went into drier ground and leaf mulch which remains dry unless it has a cover of something. It didn't. The difference in colour is just the light yesterday evening. Happily the first artichoke is ready to pick now. For anybody who's worried about how far it will go amongst 6, not far at all but there are others coming on.

Now to tidy up remaining loose ends before next year: Chris Tea here's a particularly attractive salt pig belonging to my neighbour Sarah. I always thought the 'pig' must be a scottish thing for bag/jar/crock, like they have a 'poke' of chips (which is a parcel of them) but lo, a search through the online dictionary, and the culinary dictionary yeilded zilch. Well a salt pig is a container for holding your salt, normally right beside the stove. The idea behind this design on the left is that somehow this shape keeps your salt dry, from the days when salt was seen to be anhydrous and went clumpy as it absorbed moisture from the air. They must put something in it now to keep it freeflowing. The salt pig on the right might perhaps be your default option or batch/crib variety. This one sitting comfortably beneath Maisie in Marg's kitchen and looking perfectly at home. Thanks ladies.

Moving into the big time Bill has made me a small fleet of seedling boxes, most of which have already been pressed into service. They are 3 inches deep to provide plenty of root space, not too big because they get quite heavy; can you see all the drainage holes in the bottom? And hold about 50 plants this time round. Will see how prudent that was in time. May be too crowded. Thanks Bill.

It's a very good thing to have a gardening ally for all sorts of jobs and construction and moral support. We stopped at Flag Swamp School on our way home from Dunedin last week because the horse poo stand had been replenished. At 20c a bag it is the best buy of the year and although the car was full, all 6 of us, plus the Christmas shopping, groceries 'the big shop', library books and so on there was a little foot space here and there and most laps were clear and I only had a $2 coin. In they went, stowed 10 glorious bags and away we went but as the car took off, little black fleas emerged and clustered all over us and the windows. Murmurs of discontent and dissatisfaction from the back.

'Boys' said Bill, 'what you have to understand is that this is who your Mother is.'

So bolstered by such a show of understanding and acceptance I put in a request to have the plastic laundry basket mended instead of throwing it out to the dump and already Bill has drilled holes and laced it up like a bodice. Beautiful. Who could ask for anything more? Thanks for your support with all my crazy schemes.

As soon as I saw Chris Tea's 'pink farm' I realised why I had trouble hanging these 2 little Ivan Hill paintings. Small paintings go well as a collection and in a house without a lot of hanging space left, there is always a place for them. This tiny farm is perfect and we live on a tiny farm. Thanks, I love it.

Nearly final thanks, the Area School graciously paid for Giles to go on his jazz trip to Wellington.

Big Noise in the
City

Joshua blew upon his horn

and Jericho's great walls

were gorn.

So, if you play guitar,

then dump it.

Make an impact:

buy a trumpet.

-Stuart Porteous

thanks God, for such an amazing reason to celebrate Christmas.

turning up the heat

Without stepping in to the river of climate change debate, I'll just stand on the bank and observe that it doesn't mean the sizzling hot summer of your dreams. Although this has apparently been one of the hottest years on record, what we've actually had was a kind of lacklustre winter, cold and unpredictable; not as cold as usual, but neither were the days clear and sunny which we can get with really cold nights and mornings. To cut to the chase, the upshot is that it may not be a good year for corn and pumpkins. Ah the thud as we fall from lofty political and ecological heights to the solid ground of base level gardening, which is what are we going to eat?

To introduce the corn trio, on the left: Chieftain F1, yes it's a hybrid from Kings seeds. I panicked because it was getting so late in the season and this one promises to mature in 79 days from seedling emergence. I planted it 1st December and it was up by the 5th and today is the 11th so it's not wasting any time. Expect to eat this corn at the end of February no matter what because it will follow the potatoes in the glasshouse and lead a sheltered life.
Middle photo is Rainbow Inca, a Koanga seed and NZ heirloom. It has large cobs so will probably need at least 90 days. Planted 29 October. Oh, you can't see it, looks like peas. The theory is the corn will take up nitrogen from the peas as the two grow together. Well corn needs heat, and peas like cold and it has been cold; a pea take-over... It may be ready mid February but it may not come to anything. This lot is outside and I am thinking about covering it with frost cloth and see if we can get some growth.
Third picture corn arrived as tiny seedlings from Hamish, the budding 6yr old gardener down the road. I've had it in the glasshouse since about mid October. The tillers, which are the shoots on the sides, aren't coming to much which is probably just the cold. Ideally you would get 3 or 4 strong tillers, which means 3 or 4 extra cobs.

After a lot of trial and error I have discovered I get the best results by planting seeds straight in the ground. These were all planted 1st December. It pays to know what varieties are slow to germinate, like parsely and celery so you remember to keep watering their spot long after the other seedlings have left town. I keep the ground consistently damp except for corn which is tricky. The voice of experience here will save you grief. Corn seed rots: you wet the ground, plant the corn, cover it with newspaper or something to keep the moisture in and then leave it until it germinates. I found this out the hard way, sorry Bart. That's why there's no photo of Otepoti Honey Pearl. That's why I panicked and bought a hybrid replacement.
From here I will prick these seedlings out into pots next week. They like company and do best together. Big seeds will go into individual pots, (corn, zuchinni) and keep the pots huddled together. How do I know when it's time to put them into the garden? I'm glad you asked.

This is one of the Otepoti yellow tomatoes. I only wish Cucumber green shorts was doing so well. In my experience the plants you buy come in very small containers that just don't have enough nutrient. They get rootbound very quickly. In a larger pot your plant is a good size by the time it's ready to plant out. By now I've used up most of the room in the glasshouse so I'll go through and pull out any plants that aren't performing and replace them. Sometimes you'll get plants without a growing tip that just turn into a stump, or that are male, no flowers, or that aren't true to type (the glasshouse is not the place to celebrate difference; it's all about performance).

A final sad shot of Otepoti pumpkin Galeux d'Eysine. French heirloom. Needs 100 days. Seed planted end of October. Moved from the glasshouse to the garden end of November and then we had a frost on the 4th. The tyres absorb heat and provide a little shelter which helped, they also help conserve moisture and later on, they tell you where to water when the ground becomes a sea of pumpkin leaves. Here's hoping.

I nearly forgot, the yellow zuchinni have climbed on board the vegetable wagon. The first gorgeous photo has got lost somewhere inbetween the computer meltdown and reinstalling the photo programmes. To conclude the gardening saga, to quote from Mama's last letter 'love and best wishes to everyone and cries of encouragement as we dash up the slope to CHRISTMAS'.