Windowsill allotment - the tomatoes are coming

The tomatoes (Tumbling Tom Red) have decided to do me the great service of beginning to flower in their tiny 9" pots. Time to dust off the window boxes and crank up the indoor allotment methinks. The windowsills look nervous, perhaps it will be a bounty year? Whilst its chilly still the house is a balmy 10 degrees, as tomatoes need a minimum of seven I'm sure we will do ok.

Gotta love the canny scots determination to grow a sub-tropical species. And folks don't think we are optimists!

Dogs don't like mud.

 These dogs have no garden manners. They have NOT read the 'using raised beds is an excellent method of gardening to keep DOGS and children off your beds'. They actually don't like mud. They don't like horticulture they tell me. And, worst of all, they tell me they don't like vegetables. We've reached a bit of an impass in our relationship as THIS GIRL LOVES MUD.

*warning this post contains lots of mud*

As the temperatures were showing utterly no signs of improving here in Orkney. I donned my ski gear, my waterproofs (well you can never tell can you) found my ladies fork and attempted an assent on my vegetable plots at work. I'm lucky to have several secret horticultural hideaways at work. This delights me, but the dogs, however, wish I worked in a butchers. They just don't care for mud, which I'm confused about, I asked for dogs who love gardening at our puppy interview.  

 

So I've a mixture of raised bed plots the 5mx1m plot has been handy for weeds to have a holiday in. Now they've had a notice to quit. I leave weeds on plots or borders for a few days to dry out, I've put too much effort into my soil to just give it away to any weed that passes by. This girl loves mud, the mud stays on the plots whilst the weeds wither and die. Sorry weeds.

Now as you can see - my plots aren't that exciting to most folks, sleepers and mud. But I like it at this time of year when the structure and the mud are the stars of the show. Is exciting! And, as you can see, mid May in Orkney, tree's are still devoid of leaves. Although they are beginning to tease us by fattening up those lovely buds.

Clearing the smaller plots (3m by 1m) involved mainly digging up feverfew, chives, annual and perennial rocket and parsley (all self seeded). Whilst I *could* throw these on the compost heap, I'm a sucker for a self sown plant. So although removed these have been potted up or tucked in elsewhere. Free plants are free plants after all. And, germinating rocket, whilst in some ways a bit of a pest is a clue that the soil is warming up and its time to get a growing.

Nothing goes to waste.  Having cleared the ground, last years tomato pots are tipped on the soil. A sprinkle of fertiliser and a look at the note book. I use a three year rotation here, so last years roots are replaced by this years onions. Snowball and Stuttgarter. Onions grow well in Orkney, but they are hard to dry off we don't get the late temperatures to help us along. With this in mind, I have a cunning plan.

I've planted 100 onions in a small plot. My theory is, the spring weather is still cold, so I'm going to grow everything cheek by jowel and thin these out by harvesting them when they're wee over the growing period as smaller onions to eat (stalks and all) like a salad onion. By the time the summer ends I'll see if they are of any size to try and dry off. Here we lift the onions and dry upside down in bread basket or on a table in the tunnel. Autumn is but a blink here. So drying off onions is often a tricky business. So my little onion troups are great in number, closely guarding each other. Bon chance my little ones. I've asked them NOT to tease last years 'Drips' - I'd not embarass them by calling them leeks. It would just be cruel, after almost a year of 'growing', they are still pencil thin. They just didn't go well last year. Having taken advice from monster leek grower (perhaps these should be called 'Floods'?) I'm growing these on and asking them to flower to produce a crop of seeds or 'tiny' leeks on the flower heads to grow in the following year. He seems to have such success doing it.

So my drips can become mother-leeks and make me proud.   I also planted 60 shallots, which do really well here. Their spikey punky new growth just looks so bold and I love them. Again easy to pick and harvest when growing if they're 'thinned' down to 4-5 bulbs they fatten the best here. So it really is like a little allium day care centre at the moment. The dogs inform me they don't like onions. All the more for me. The rest of the beds outside have been planted with tatties, its late, and I've lost enthusiasm for battles with elements with vegetable, in 'bare leaved tree May'. With a generally compressed season, I'm leaving the onions and tatties to do their thing quietly outside, I'm off to find a bit of warmth indoors. I don't own a tunnel, but I do have a bit of space in the work ones, the garden guru in charge of such important matters, allows me space. I make the tea and shine the spades and do the paperwork in return.

 

The cold start has made me retreat into the tunnels to find my fish box heaven and plant up some more veggies in the warm. Now, fish boxes are often muddy garish, unkept, muddy and struggle to find accessories to match. Kinda like myself.  These fish boxes have been left neglected over the winter month. Polytunnels are notorious for shedding their covers, so attempting much in the way of winter growing is limted and often a bit fraught. So we allow them to slumber, best really.

When I first started openly growing in fishboxes I've had both odd comments and 'I thought I was the only one' whispered conversations with other converts. As these are picked up free from the tide line, or (and I have paid for them) bought for around £2-5 from reclaimation places or fishermen, they are just such brilliant gardening tools. (As long as you don't mind the aesthetics of them and are happy to haul them from beaches yourself, they're quite an adventure in themselves). They hold between 4-6 grow bags (100-150 litres) of glorious muddy compost and already come pre-drained (for fishing). So they make excellent mini growing plots 1m by 50cm a nice size. Last years boxes needed a top up of organic matter, so hungry, they gobbled up a whole heap of it.

 One happy lady with watered, composted, mixed, manured and fluffed up mini-plots ready for planting. The yellow wellies are a nice contrast I think. I'm sulking with my purple ones, they've sprung a proper leek.

Before we headed home, happily unmatching, covered in mud, we stole a peek at what else has been happening in the other tunnels at work. These are not mine, so shhhhhh, we're not really here.  But, the spring cabbages are really rocketing (these can't be grown outside in Orkney, they do nothing) but in a tunnel - amazing.

There's some summer bedding here too, far too early for it to go out yet. But, soon. Summer bedding is usually OK here late May/early June but its very risky before, it was 1 degrees last night.

Runner beans are being planted out in the tunnels (again NOT something you can crop outside here, too cold, too windy and just doesn't work) broad beans and some types of peas are about all that does outdoors here, french just sit and sulk unless they're in a sheltered spot. We're nearly in the arctic don't you know, beans are clearly not a fan! And, the strawberries are up and looking great (here) outside they're barely doing much, still slumbering.

I think strawberry flowers can rival almost anything in the garden a perfect combination of white, yellow and green, lush and jewelled when flowering.

These are Cambridge Favourite, a variety which does well in Orkney. Time for home. The dogs inform me, they DON'T like strawberries either, especially if they grow in mud.

I've told them they need to be patient, I'm also growing bones.

 

Now, that got their attention.

 

Turf roof hinders picnic'rs, bluebells feign shyness.

In Scotland a turf roof is quite traditional. I have to say I quite like them. Anything that keeps a lawn OUT of the garden gets my vote. Not so easy to have a picnic on though. We (the hounds and I) went on in search of spring and bluebells, I hear in other parts of Scotland they are peeping out. People like to tease us with reports of flowering frenzies 'sooth' in mainland Scotland.

Whilst the fern croziers are still slumbering within the lush bluebell leaves, no hint of flowers yet though, they feign shyness.

Aside the celandines and the odd daffodil, most of the plants are still soundly asleep and all thoughts of bluebells are a long way off yet. We considered a quick swim in the frothy burn, but its not quite swimming season in Orkney yet. If the bluebells aren't out, which as we all know in Scotland is the traditional time when burn swimming is permitted, then we cannae yet dip a toe in. (Mainly in fear of it dropping off from frost bite)

 

 We'll just have to come back again with our towels. I wonder if the bluebells will be with us by the end of the month? Surely?

 

 

Seven and a bit days - Parliaments, house hunting and cheese.

When ramapaging around the capital of Scotland last Friday, it seemed only fair to pop into the local Parliament and enjoy a good debate about how the 'Future is Local' and the barriers to growing local food. An interesting time to be in such a wonderful building. My first visit. I did enjoy it very much. Breakfast and lunch at the Parliament, don't mind if I do. A most excellent session on the joys, barriers and constraints of growing more food locally and how we might overcome some of the hurdles by working together. I kept quiet about my tendancies to grow both flowers and vegetables together, whilst they seemed a nice enough bunch you can never tell when gardeners and allottmenteers might go a bit feral.  I also REMEMBERED to take my secateurs out my hand bag, security at Parliaments I feared might not be so understanding of such handy tools in bags.

As I'm not in the city very often, feral gardeners avoided, it was time for a catch up with a serious plant scientist (microbiologist don't you know) mocktails overlooking the Edinburgh skyline with a chum also seemed a fitting way to chew the cud. As I have a stick of celery in my drink, chew I did. I think I'll never make a microbiologist, I find it easier to peer at my plants at arms length, covered in mud, than down the lens of a microscope, but she's very happy. Today I'm actually not even slightly covered in mud, she barely recognised me. That's when secret 'botanics' hand shakes come in handy, then she was sure it was me.

Cities offer delights that islands just don't have like trees that grow upright, winter bedding plants, blossom and alike.  They also offer sushi. Now I can eat sushi at home having been trained by a well meaning Japanese lassie in Orkney, however getting out and having some in rather fetching plates, is something only to be experienced in the city. Had to be done, rude not too. And whilst squishing as much in my tummy as possible, I managed to visit the chinese supermarket on the way to a charming little rustic Dim Sum bar just off Leith Walk.

The wee hideaway is noted as one of the finest places to have Dim Sum in Edinburgh and it really was. If in need of an oriental nibble off the beaten track try Stack. Its got a truly awesome wee hatch the food pops out of, be warned, not all of the delicious grub is for you. Others like to share too. I'm not keen on sharing.

After a mountain of food and eating what better than a walk on a lovely beach over looking the capital over in the land of Fife. Early morning scamps soon put the air back in your lungs and prepare you for the day ahead. We headed to the farmers market........and then off out up the coast in search of houses, we're currently house hunting. Fife I have to say is the preferred location. Haggis slumbers on, dreaming of beaches.

The wee town of Anstruther took our attention as did the houses, all sounding fine but with a serious lack of information on their gardens, why don't estate agents give you what you need [soil type, depth, aspect, garden structures, common pests and weeds, frost pockets and alike], the indoor rooms whilst pleasant to know they exist do not hold much interest for me, I'd rather hear about the garden, sheds and the interesting stuff. Why are those things not on the details, that baffles me.

 

 The East Neuk has many delights to offer a girl who loves both beaches and food and growing, whilst coastal an array of growing seems to exude from most corners.

Just a few miles to St Andrews we wasted the rest of the day ambling on beaches, meeting friends and just blethering.  No ice cream this trip - the shops were just tooooooooooooo busy - those who indulge in cakes found refuge in the best cake shop in the world. I do not participate in cake eating, its vile stuff, second only in vileness to chocolate. I'm not a proper girl.

As others indulge in cakes, I can look back at the fun that was had, mini-holidays are often friend filled too. Much fun was had, I even squeezed in 24 hours with my manchild from university. The lure of dim sum was too strong for him too. Clever boy that boy is.

 

The weekend away also had an inordinate amount of cheese, chilli's and bread lobbed into it. It was SOMEONES birthday, and as she doesn't care for chocolate, cheese and chilli's are her preferred presents. And, socks of course, you can never have too many socks.

And to go with all that birthday cheese, what do you give a girl who also hates cake (aside a good slap as many of my friends have suggested), you furnish her with bread. As she's famished from all that adventuring, a good birthday bread loaf goes down a storm. Thank you cellist, a most appropriate welcome home.

Don't bother to count the candles, that's just rude.

 

What to do when home, despite the cheese mountain, go out to your favourite restaurant in Orkney, The Creel.  Crab bisque, Pan seared Halibut and of course, a selection of cheeses to end. Perfect end to a fun filled week.

 

 

A huge thanks to all those keen participants in 'eat as much as you can over a weekend in Edinburgh and Fife and then again in Orkney'. We very much enjoyed your company whether it was lunch, brunch, breakfast, supper, tea, carpet picnics, al fresco fish and chips or all of the above.

 

Perhaps Scotland should grow more of its own food, I'd certainly help eat it!

 

 

 

 

 

 

The tattie guard awakens, keeled slugs conspicuous by their absence.

So in most exciting news, having dug my patch up at work, the potatoes I cunningly left in (for later) have started sprouting. Look at those lovely newly growing shoots heading upwards to start growing.  I like to think of these cunningly placed 'left in over the winter' tubers as a kind of professional soil guards, letting us know when the soil if sufficiently warm here in the land of the north for planting tatties. Nothing at all to do with my lazy 'not quite getting all the tatties dug up from last year' standard of gardening. No its all perfectly PLANNED, to let me see when the soils just at the right temperature for tatties to be planted. I'm clever like that I am. Nothing to do with being a lazy mare. 

 

So just so you know, if you live in the frozen northern parts of Scotland, it seems tatties are happy to start being rehomed in the warming up soil and planted, I know its early May, but its been a cold start to the year!

 

So dinnae fash yer self too much but its a grand time to get those chitting tatties out of the luxurious warmth of the windae sills and into the mud. Pronto!

 

Having performed a stellar 'soil guarding' job, this fella ended up baked and enjoyed. 

King Edwards are my favourite eating tattie. Thankfully, those pesky little keeled slugs didn't find this particular lovely specimen lurking in my plot, they make a mess of tatties which are in the ground a little bit too long. I'm glad of that, as keeled slugs are NOT my favourite type of eating slug. 

 

Tattie planting at the weekend for me I think.

On natural habitats and tangled hair

Here I am, ambling about in one of my natural habitats. Today, I'm on a blustery cliff top in the north of Scotland, a few miles from home. 

 And, as I turn my head, that beautiful view looking back towards the Brough of Birsay greets me. The sea stirs up something inside me when I see it, I hate to be far from the sea, even when its stormy, it gives me a sense of calm.

All sorts of things lurk about the shorelines and cliff edges of these parts. Like wild Haggis. Very at home in HIS natural habitat, our cairn puppy, up to mischief as always.

 

This is one of my natural habitats, when I'm not engrossed in the garden, or in the family, where I feel utterly at home, stomping and plodding about, wind in my (very tangled, can't believe I bothered to brush it today) hair, hat in hand, free as a bird, happy.

 

I wonder what yours is?

 

{Thanks for Mr F taking these photos out at Birsay, Orkney and for the lovely bite and cup of well deserved tea we had after our stomp at the Birsay Bay Tearoom (Absolutely the best tea room in Orkney, with the best views!) after our stomp!}

Wordless Wednesday - sprung

I think it has, sprung that is.