June 2021

Words: Mrs Darling

“Now is the winter of our discontent.”

William Shakespeare

Autumn was so mild this year that we didn’t think about taking the cover off our glasshouse until the very end of May. Those of you who are paying attention will have noticed that the title for this post is “June 2021.” No doubt you are wondering why I am bringing up something that happened in May. The thing is, I’d finished the May post way before we took the cover off. I felt it was important to tell you that we’d taken it off because you could be wondering when a good time to do this might be. Far be it from me to advise you, but in previous years we’ve taken it off much earlier. Maybe as early as the end of April. The Gisborne Herald reported that Gisborne had one of the warmest Junes for 30 years with a mean temperature of 12.2. (TMI? I thought so. Sorry.)

Heartbreaking as it is to confess this to you, things haven’t gone so well in the glasshouse this month. By things I mean the capsicums. A couple of them had been in for nearly two years, but they suddenly stopped growing. Their capsicums turned red, and there were lots and lots of them, but no new flowers came. They were also dusted with sooty mould and looked awful. In a fit of neatness (see the Law of Straightness), I decided to pull them all out. I’ve replaced them with celery and beetroot seedlings, and garlic.

Last month I planted some Sweet 100 tomato seeds, and zucchini seeds too. I saved the strongest seedlings to plant in the glasshouse. Have a look at how well the tomato’s doing. (Those ties are from Dr Darling’s old nightshirt which he couldn’t bear to throw away, despite it being so thin you could see through it. He doesn’t like waste. His time has come, that’s for sure.)

I planted one of the zucchinis in the glasshouse. However, I had two seedlings, and there isn’t room for two zucchinis inside. After worrying about it in the middle of the night, I decided to plant the spare outside under the shade of our cherimoya tree where it’s protected from the frost. The difference between the two is remarkable, and just goes to show how important heat is:

As I reported last month, I planted sugar snap pea seeds along one side of the glasshouse. They came up beautifully … and then we went away for a week. In that time two sparrows (some of you will know that sparrows are my nemesis) managed to find their way inside through the automatic vents in the roof – must have been one of those warm June days. We found them when we returned, dead. I was sad until I noticed they’d pooped all over our deck chairs, and everything else in the glasshouse. To add insult to injury, they’d eaten all my sugar snap pea seedlings down to their skeletons. They must have had a party, stayed too late, suddenly realised (that might be too anthropomorphic a word) the vents had closed and they couldn’t get out again. Or they couldn’t remember how they got in (bird brains). I screwed the vents closed, and planted some more seeds. *sigh

I don’t know about you, but I get a sort of Seed Fever sometimes. I plant seeds and get such a buzz from going out to the glasshouse each day to see if they’ve come up that I want to plant more. Seed Fever took me at the end of June. I planted basil seeds in a pot (to replace the languishing plants in the glasshouse which I’m keeping on despite how sad they look because I just know a recipe will call for fresh basil and I’ll be cursing that I didn’t keep at least a few leaves). I planted more King Sweetie capsicums to replace the plants I’ve just pulled out. And I planted bok choy seeds because I couldn’t find seedlings. The packet said to sow where you mean to grow them, and that could be why I couldn’t find seedlings, but I was feeling reckless and put them in punnets. Not sure how they’ll go as I haven’t grown them from seed before. Finally I planted some broad beans in punnets for planting out into the main garden. I’ve put the pot and the punnets on the heat pad and will be pootling out to the glasshouse with a grin on my face for my buzz every morning.

Birds

Like sparrows and watercress*

Old Yorkshire saying

A couple of weeks ago I found some bird droppings inside the glasshouse. The horror, the horror!

I’d been leaving the doors open as often as possible, despite the cold weather, trying to beat the powdery mildew. I thought that birds wouldn’t come inside, because, well, it’s inside isn’t it. And in the 18 months we’ve had the Crystal Palace, I’ve not seen any evidence of their presence … until now. I suspected sparrows right away, because they’re the cheekiest of all the birds around here, but I have no proof. The signs which might be tell-tale to scatologists told me only that the visitors had been of the avian variety.

I say “the horror, the horror” because sparrows do a huge amount of damage in the outside vegetable garden. Look at these rainbow chard plants which I planted in the garden just for the sparrows. In a word, skeletonised (or should that be skeletonized? I need to ask my friend Daye whose authority in such matters is unquestionable).

Sparrows also skeletonise beetroot leaves, spinach, and peas (including sweet peas which I have to keep covered until they’re nearly a metre high). They even attack kale which we hardly want to eat ourselves, although we do because we know it’s Good For Us. We have to grow all these plants under Dr Darling’s marvellous cages.

Even so, the sparrows perch on top of the netting and peck any leaves ambitious enough to reach the top of the cage.**

^{Beetroot leaves pecked through their cage by sparrows}

I think you may be beginning to understand why I was so troubled by the signs of birds in the glasshouse. My tender kale leaves, the soft lettuce leaves, the snow peas in their succulent infancy, the ripe-for-the-pecking tomatoes – all would be decimated by those busy little beaks.

One day while working with a client in my garden-facing office I saw voracious sparrows take to my young spinach plants after a particularly big gust of wind had lifted off their protective cage. It wouldn’t have been very professional to interrupt the conversation to rush out to reinstall it so I had to sit there with my blood pressure rising – I’d grown those from seeds! Needless to say after the session ended, I was out there quick smart to put the cage back, and pin it down. However the damage was done. In the space of about 30 minutes every leaf had been pecked almost to the ground.

Sparrows aren’t the only pests in our garden. The blackbirds are the Energizer Bunnies of the avian world when it comes to looking for worms. I use our home-made compost to plant seedlings into (the no-dig method), and to mulch around established plants. The moment I turn my back on the garden, perhaps just to take the wheelbarrow back to the compost bins to get some more, the blackbirds are into it. I don’t mind them having the worms, but they’re such messy eaters. And while they’re flicking the compost around to unearth the worms, they’re uprooting the seedlings and scattering compost all over the paths or grass.

^Evidence

How do they find the worms? Do they listen with their feet? Feel vibrations? I’ve put compost in thick layers on all the beds in the glasshouse. Imagine if they were drawn in there by Good Vibrations. The Beach Boys didn’t know the half of it.

When I told Dr Darling what had happened, he immediately swung into action (it was the next day actually, and I had to remind him as he’d forgotten all about it – he has Many Other Fine Qualities as you know). We had an old screen door which we replaced with a security door on our house many years ago. He cut it down to fit the door of the glasshouse, added new hinges, some flash ball-bearing catches to hold it closed and open, and installed it at one end of the glasshouse. I can now leave the main door open, but with the screen door closed I need not fear that our feathered friends (fiends) are getting in and wreaking havoc. My hero.

* I can’t find this saying anywhere on the internet, but it was a saying I became familiar with from an old flame who learned it from his parents who came from Yorkshire. It was used to refer to the enthusiasm some people exhibit towards doing the wild thing. It’s particularly appropriate vis a vis sparrows because they are well-known to be promiscuous and energetic when it comes to mating. And apparently they go mad over watercress. Now you know.

** To add insult to injury, other gardeners tell me stories of growing spinach, lettuces, brassicas, and peas outside and the sparrows don’t touch them (the plants, not the gardeners). Why not??