October 2023

“Peas are the most gentle, mild-mannered, and amiable of vegetables.” Jane Grigson

Everyone loves peas, right? And the most delicious of all the peas have to be sugar snaps. They’re a cross between peas and snow peas, and sweeter than both. Snow peas have sweet pods, but they don’t have peas inside the pods (well they do, but they’re beensy). Peas don’t have the sweet pods. Put the best of the two together and you get sweet pods and sweet peas inside the pods. TMI? Apologies. I’m a little excited because right now there are squillions of them inside the glasshouse. A couple of the plants are nearly as tall as me (< > 1.7M) and they’re covered, not only with pods, but also with flowers. We’re going to be munching on them for quite a while.

Earlier this week we came back from a trip to visit my friend and her partner near Mangakino (more about this below). Before we went I picked all the pods I could find and we ate them for dinner in a stir-fry. When we returned we found at least 50 pods ready to be picked. We were only away for 5 days. Dr Darling picked a colander full for dinner the night we returned, and I steamed them for a few minutes. They were unbelievably sweet. Absolutely delicious. Today we had a guest over for lunch and I made a salad. I went to the glasshouse to pick some bits and pieces (kale, lettuce, red capsicums and, of course, sugar snaps). There was so much to pick I had to carry them back in a pocket I made by lifting the bottom of my t-shirt. At my age you’d expect I’d have something classy like a trug, but the habits of a lifetime are difficult to change.

_{The last of the capsicums – intensely sweet.}

We used to carry all sorts of bounty in our t-shirts when we were kids, especially fruit. My parents had a wonderful garden which had a large vegetable plot and fruit trees dotted around the property. My mother even had a separate bed for asparagus at one stage. We would be sent out to pick things. We were also sent out after school to scour the long grass by the roadside to find a particular sort of grass our budgies liked to eat. We didn’t need to be sent out to gather things at the beach. Shells and beautiful treasures went into our t-shirt baskets.

On to the present day and a few kilometres from Mangakino. My friend and her partner (who’s also a friend) haven’t been in their house for very long. Since buying it they’ve done some impressive landscaping, planting hundreds of shrubs and grasses. However, the jewel in the crown ( as far as my friend is concerned) is their brand new glasshouse. It’s bigger than ours (not that it’s a competition of course), and it has frosted glass. They won’t need to put a shade cover up in summer (ok, I’m a little jealous). Inside, my friend has lots of pots filled with vegetables, and lots of seedling trays too. It’s pretty cold and exposed where the house is, so it’s going to be difficult to grow tender plants outside. There’s also the ongoing problem of pukeko and possums, not to mention the rabbits we saw while we were there. I think they’ll be very pleased they put up the glasshouse (my friends, not the rabbits).

While we were staying, my friend and I were cooking dinner one night. She mentioned she’d like some lettuce from the glasshouse. Her partner was right next to her, but swiftly moved into the sitting room. I noticed this, and volunteered to pick the necessary. This was a noble gesture on my part, because it was cold and raining outside, but I love my friend and, you know, you do whatever it takes for the ones you love. Anyway, I’ve learned that it’s no use planting things in the garden if you don’t make the effort to go out and pick them. The trick of course is to pick them during the afternoon, and not wait until it’s nearly dark. I teased her partner later when he was telling my friend how much he loved her. I said that if he really loved her he would have gone out to the glasshouse in the rain. He’s as quick as a wink and had some cheeky reply about not knowing what a lettuce looked like. I can assure you, dear reader, that at his age it would be a very odd thing indeed if he didn’t know. Despite being nearly as mischief as Dr Darling, he has Many Other Fine Qualities.

Back to our patch in Gisborne, I can report that everything is growing well. It’s very hot in the glasshouse now. I have the windows and doors open all the time, including overnight most nights. We’re going to have to put the shade cover over the top very soon. I noticed the cucumber seedlings are getting burned, and all the seedlings (King Sweetie capsicums, kale, broccoli, cucumbers, and zucchinis) wilt super quick if I don’t keep them watered.

The self-sown Sweet 100 tomato is now at roof level barely six weeks since it sprouted (see below). It has fruit on it, and huge laterals strong-arming their way across the space. Dr Darling asked me what I was going to plant in the rest of the centre bed, but I know it’s only a matter of time before the tomato takes over the centre of the glasshouse completely. It looks as if there’s space for a lot more, but the Day of the Triffids is coming. But then so are hundreds of sweet little tomatoes that will keep coming all winter long. It’s a good trade off IMHO.

There’s still a lot of talk on Facebook (here and here) about the proliferation of whiteflies, ants and aphids in people’s glasshouses. I keep posting comments to share the solution that worked for me, which is to use an auto-pyrethrum spray. You get these from the supermarket. I did a post about this back in May 2021. My friend asked me about the harm to us humans to be eating vegetables from the glasshouse that have been subject to this spray. I think if we wash our harvest carefully, very little harm will be done to our bodies. It’s not organic, but there’s no way I’m going to go to all the trouble of growing my veggies from seed, nurturing them carefully, only to let the bugs have them. No way José. Not on my watch. As the Koreans say on the K-dramas I love to watch, “hwaiting!”

September 2023

At spring’s grand entrance, even the pollen throws a confetti party.

It’s the first month of spring in the southern hemisphere and it’s warming up here. Most days I’ve been opening the glasshouse doors. I can tell when this needs doing without having to leave the comfort of the house. If the auto-vents in the roof of the glasshouse are wide open, it’s hot inside. The burning question is, should I clean the glass on the outside? Every remotely horizontal surface outside is blanketed in yellow pine pollen, including the glasshouse roof.

The more observant among you (keep eating those blueberries) will notice that the glass on the panels at the far end of the glasshouse are clean. I can explain. We have an attachment for our water-blaster like a dinner plate that lets you clean a wide area at a time. Dr Darling has a particular (or should I say peculiar?) attachment to that attachment (well that’s awkward) and once he starts using it, he wants to water-blast The World. One weekend he took the water-blaster out to clean the concrete paths. Earlier that day we’d discussed the dilemma of whether or not to clean the glasshouse roof. We decided not to, because most summers we have to put up our glasshouse cover/shade cloth to stop the plants inside cooking. We thought that maybe maybe maybe the pollen on the glass would save us the effort of putting the cover up. Anyway, there he was this particular weekend, not so long ago, busy with the water-blaster, starting with the path next to the glasshouse. At some time during this task, he must have been seized by a strange compulsion to raise the aforementioned attachment to the roof.

I have developed a spidey-sense when it comes to keeping an eye on what he’s up to outside (it’s developed based on experience due to his history of, for example, pruning trees at ground-level), and became aware that he was taking a suspiciously long time to clean the path. Isn’t it interesting what unconscious algorithms our brains are able to run? Size of path x experience water-blasting = estimated length of time needed to clean it (<> half an hour). Beset with tingling, I went to the window and peered outside with my eyes narrowed. Sure enough, there he was with the water-blaster cleaning the roof of the glasshouse. I snuck out there pdq and reminded him we’d decided not to do that. He grinned like a boy. It’s very difficult to stay cross with him when he looks like that. And as you know, he has Many Other Fine Qualities, something I remind myself of fairly often.

Last summer we didn’t put up the cover. It rained and rained and rained (you were there, you know what I’m talking about). It was the worst summer I can remember. But this year the Met Service is predicting an El Niño weather pattern, and that means a drought here on the East Coast. I think we will need the cover, pollen or not. Dr Darling has just bought a 1,000 litre water tank – but that’s a story for another time.

Meanwhile inside the glasshouse the plants are taking off. Not literally of course, not even the rocket. That would be strange. Plants are going to seed much quicker than they have for months.

The tomatoes I’ve grown from seed in pots need planting out. I possibly should have done this already, but I caught the ‘flu and haven’t been up to much for the last three weeks. I’m not doing stress about this though, because there’s lots of talk from Kiwi gardeners at this time of year about whether or not we should wait for Labour Weekend (21st October this year) to plant out frost-tender plants. However, here in Gisborne we have such a mild climate that I can usually get away with planting out much earlier if I want to, and am feeling up to it. I still have a month up my sleeve, so to speak.

The sugar snaps are developing pods. This is very exciting (I should get out more). But wait, there are reasons I’m excited. I have a recipe for laksa in which sugar snap pods take a starring role. When you watch as many K-dramas as I do, you’ll understand the drive to create dishes with noodles.

I can see from the two glasshouse growers’ pages I follow on FaceBook that lots of people are struggling with powdery mildew right now. Aphids and whiteflies too. I don’t have any of these going on in the glasshouse, and haven’t for a couple of years now. People are blaming the humidity, but I don’t think that’s the sole reason.

Ever since I started using an auto-pyrethrum spray back in May 2021 (read about it here), I haven’t had bugs or fungi of any sort. My tentative thinking about the lack of fungi in the years between then and now has been that the whiteflies/aphids/ants were tracking the fungal spores around the plants. If the bugs aren’t there, the spores can’t get distributed so efficiently. That tentative thinking has solidified into being almost certain. I’m not a white male, so I can’t step into full certainty of course, and anyway, I know fungal spores are disseminated by other means (wind, contact with other plants, contaminated garden tools).

In a glasshouse the environment is somewhat controlled. Still air means plants aren’t moving around as much, which kind of argues against ventilation which everyone swears is absolutely essential. I can only go on what works for me, and the auto-spray seems to control everything regardless of ventilation or time of year. And it’s always good practice to keep your gardening tools clean. Even rakes deserve a spa day.

August 2023

Every slice of bell pepper is like a love note from nature, shaped like a heart.

Here we are, 11 days out from the beginning of spring. Most of the seeds I planted in the glasshouse last month have germinated – Early Girl tomatoes, basil, cucumbers, and King Sweetie capsicums. They’re all on the heat pad because it’s pretty cold here now, especially at night. We’ve had a few frosts.

The seeds that haven’t germinated (butternut pumpkins and zucchini) were planted in peat pots. I’m never sure about those peat pots. For one thing peat isn’t a renewable resource which means we shouldn’t be using it. For another, the pots seem to suck the moisture from the seed-raising mix at the expense of the seeds. You’re supposed to water them when the outsides are dry, but if you water them enough to make the outsides wet, you’re inviting your seeds to rot. If you don’t water them enough they shrivel up and die (the seeds not the pots which aren’t living things as far as I know). There must be a way of using them (the pots, not the seeds – gosh this is tricky to write about) that works, but I haven’t figured it out yet. I only have them because an elderly friend keeps buying them for me and I feel I have to use them. It’s one of her many small acts of love for me.

Better news is that the sugar snap peas I planted last month are starting to take off up the walls of the glasshouse. If they do as well as they did last time I planted them in there, we’ll have squillions of pods. My niece Felicia got a particular look in her eye when she came over while I had sugar snaps in the glasshouse last time, enquiring carefully about whether or not I needed someone to pick them for me. Only to help me out of course. A small act of love.

All the greens are doing spectacularly well – five different sorts of lettuce, rocket, kale and pak choi.

Best of all though, particularly at this time of year, are the capsicum plants. Peppers are about NZ$4 each at the moment. It is joy to the glasshouse owner’s heart to see such high prices (apologies to those who have to buy them). I grew our peppers from seed a few years ago now. They’ve hung on tenaciously in the glasshouse ever since. I cut them back at the end of last summer and they sprang away again in autumn. I was very tempted to cut them right out last month, but I could see tiny fruit on them. They are now covered in fruit mostly at the top of their 2 metre high trunks, and I’ve been picking the red ones. Even though the plants look scruffy, I don’t have the heart to chop them out. That’s my small act of love for our housekeeping money.

Another small act of love and tenacity is Dr Darling bringing me a cup of tea in bed in the morning while I read a few pages of my book. He’s done this for over 30 years. We sit there sipping our tea together, chatting about Life, the Universe and Everything, looking out the window at the huge trees in the park opposite our home. Right now the oaks and chestnuts are starting to green up. We like to hold hands. I’m not sure why, but we’re like that. And when I say, “it’s time we got up,” he holds on tighter. I’m not sure why, but he’s like that. It’s one of his Fine Qualities.

September 2021

Words: Mrs Darling

Ka tangi te wharauroa, ko ngā karere a Mahuru – If the shining cuckoo cries, it is the messenger of spring

Māori whakataukī

^{Photo by missterryw from FreeImages}

On 26 September this year I heard the unmistakeable call of a shining cuckoo – pīpīwharauroa. It’s the earliest I’ve heard one in over 20 years. In fact in the past few years they haven’t arrived in Gisborne until November. A chap called Ray Paterson up in Northland, who’s paid attention to the arrival of shining cuckoos since he was a boy 70-odd years ago, heard one this year around the middle of August. He said they usually arrive in Northland in September. They fly to Aotearoa New Zealand from the Bismarck Archipelago every spring, and stay until autumn. It’s a journey of over 4,600kms and the bird is about the size of a sparrow. They’re not as sexy as godwits which seem to have their own marketing managers who encourage bird lovers to record the godwits’ every move once they hit our shores (ok, ok, they do fly about 12,000kms). But I reckon a journey like that for a tiny bird is pretty amazing. Once they arrive in Northland they slowly work their way south.

I know what you’re thinking – isn’t she supposed to be writing about glasshouses? Yes, yes, I am. But I’m just so excited I had to share it with you. And also shining cuckoos mean that spring is here. That means it’s a busy time in the glasshouse (there you go).

First, an update: The sweet 100 tomato I grew from seed planted in May is now covered in fruit. None have ripened yet – another reminder to get seeds planted in January or February for tomatoes I want to eat over the winter in the glasshouse. However, we will be eating our own glasshouse tomatoes a lot earlier than the ones I’m about to plant out in the garden, so growing the plant over the winter hasn’t been a complete waste of time. (Note to self: Must Do Better.)

The cucumbers and supermarket truss tomatoes I grew from seed are now more than ready to plant out in the garden. The tomatoes are too big for their pots, but I’m hesitating to plant them out because the nights are still quite cold – only 4 degrees a few days ago. The earliest day for planting them out for optimal growth and health is 9 October, according to the gardeners’ moon calendar, and the maramataka calendar compiled by my friend Ron Taiapa – kia ora Ron, and thank you e hoa. I don’t think the seedlings can wait for another week though (see below).

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The courgette plant inside the glasshouse is still growing strongly and we’re picking a couple of courgettes a week. The butternut pumpkin seeds germinated and are also growing well. On top of all this abundance, we’re picking sugar snaps daily. This latter comes just in time for the school holidays when our two “nieces” spend their days with us while their parents work. The younger one gets a glint in her eye whenever sugar snaps are mentioned.

The most exciting arrival in September (apart from the shining cuckoo) was some tomato seeds from Heritage Food Crops Research Trust. I sent away for them after reading in the August issue of the New Zealand Gardener magazine about Mark Christensen’s research into high lycopene tomatoes. Lycopene is a powerful antioxidant which has been shown to reduce the incidence of heart disease and some cancers. Two sorts of tomato seeds came, both for golden tomatoes – “Golden Bell” with high lycopene, and “Eye Drop” which is high in beta-carotene. HFCRT asked gardeners from around the motu to assist them in “citizen science work” by planting the tomatoes and watching to see how they develop.

One of the instructions was to put the seeds in the saliva in your mouth before planting them in moist seed-raising mix. My friend Robyn, who’s in her 80s, told me that her great aunt had routinely done this before planting her seeds. It made me wonder what gardening lore and wisdom we might have lost as I haven’t seen anyone else do this. I also wondered about the role of saliva, which has proteins and enzymes in it. Do these elements somehow prepare the seeds for germination? Soften them? The instructions also advised to wait two days before watering the pots which implies that the saliva is important, and not to be watered down too soon. I followed the instructions and now have four punnets of seedlings. I’ll be planting one “Golden Bell” plant in the glasshouse with the rest outside to take their chances.

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The plants growing in the glasshouse right now are the healthiest I’ve ever grown. I reckon this is mostly down to using an auto-spray to keep the bugs off (thanks again Colin). Not only have the bugs been kept off, but there is absolutely no powdery or downy mildew on any of the plants. This is astounding as my plants have been plagued by mildew in previous years, even in the height of summer. My hypothesis is that mildews are carried by insects which bring the spores into the glasshouse on their legs and bodies. In our glasshouse the plants are clean because the insects either can’t get in (we have screens on the door and windows we open), or they die very quickly thanks to the auto-spray (if they’re small enough to get in through the fine mesh). It would be brilliant if they stay this way, and who knows, maybe, maybe, maybe, I can finally beat the psyllids. Fingers crossed.

August 2021

Words: Mrs Darling

The seasons alter: hoary-headed frosts fall in the fresh lap of the crimson rose.

William Shakespeare

^{A Sweet 100 with beetroot and celery at its feet}

Last month I wrote that I wished I’d planted a cucumber in the glasshouse for the winter. Right now the supermarkets are charging $4.99 for a cucumber about 15cm long and no thicker than the width of my thumb, so I’m really cross. It’s my own fault. I wrote that people wanting to eat salads when it’s cold outside are mad. Even as I wrote it back in May I had a bad feeling that the gods might strike me down. Right now I want cucumber on my sandwiches, and in my pita breads, and have wanted them all winter long. It’s cost me many dollars. I’m kicking myself. For the price of a single cucumber seed planted back in February I could have saved myself all this angst and all those dollars.

Another thing I could have done better is planted the sweet 100 tomato seeds in February, so that by now I’d have tomatoes too. You can see from the photo above that the plant I grew from seed which germinated in May is doing well. It has flowers too, but no fruit yet. Yes, I’ve tickled the flowers with a paintbrush and given the plant some good vibrations every time I’ve walked past, but nothing yet.

I have cucumber and tomato seedlings (see below) in the glasshouse right now, ready for spring planting in a few weeks’ time. They should be very strong and big by then. I’m all sorted for spring. It’s the other end of the year I need to get better at.

^{Tomato seedlings (supermarket truss)}

The tomatoes are from seeds from a particularly tasty truss tomato I bought at the supermarket. Dr Darling couldn’t believe I could just take the seeds from a lunchtime slice and put them in potting mix. He must have had an idea that seeds are always dried. But of course in nature the fruit drops to the ground and the seeds germinate without any fuss.

The cucumbers are Diva which Kings Seeds says are fast-growing, self-pollinating, and particularly disease-resistant. Powdery mildew is the main culprit inside and outside the glasshouse, but white flies are a nuisance too if they get stressed (the plants not the white flies – I’ve never seen a stressed white fly – they seem to float blissfully around even when I’m trying to drown them in the sink). I’ve grown two – one for outside, and the other for the glasshouse. With the auto-spray going (thanks Colin) I’m confident that this year my glasshouse cucumbers won’t succumb to whiteflies or other pests.

Last month I planted lettuce seedlings. I’ve been picking their leaves every day for our sandwiches – they provide a bit of crunch which makes up for the cucumbers a bit. The sugar snaps haven’t set peas yet, but some of them are flowering so peas can’t be far away. They’re another thing I should have planted earlier in the year, although as you know I did try in June and every seedling was nibbled to the ground by a couple of sparrows who I suspect were struck down by the gods for their evil deed. When I found them they weren’t resting, stunned, tired and shagged out after a long squawk, or pining for the fjords. They had gone to meet their maker.

^{Sugar snaps and red lettuces}

The zucchini is the Star Plant this month (I’ve been watching the Great British Sewing Bee, and the Great British Bake Off). I’ve picked some really gorgeous zucchinis off it, enough to make a couple of meals. But again, I wish I’d started it earlier than May. If I’m spared, I’ll do better next winter.

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Meanwhile, we’re all in lockdown again. Level 4 as I write this on the penultimate day of winter. I hope you are all safe and well. We’ve had both our jabs, live 7 hours’ drive away from Auckland, and behave ourselves so we are hopeful of dodging the COVID bullet.

It’s a joy to spend time in the glasshouse, and to check on my seedlings every day. Many of the flower seeds I planted last month have come up which allows me to dream of drifts of zinnias and cosmos. I also have some cape gooseberry seedlings, and some winter sweets which I’ve grown from the oddest looking seeds – more about these in a future post. Waiting to come through are buttercup pumpkins and lemon grass. Now all we need is some warmer weather.

July 2021

Dear Winter, I’m breaking up with you. I think it’s time I started seeing other seasons. Summer is hotter than you.

At last – some flowers on the zucchini in the glasshouse. They’re all male flowers so far, but it’s the female flowers that produce the fruit. I’m not worried though because I’ve noticed, every time I grow them, that this is the pattern: male flowers first. Tempting though it is, I’m not going to use this for a metaphor for anything, okay?

What’s amazing is that so far (fingers crossed) there’s no powdery mildew. And thanks to Colin Bruiser Smith there are no white flies either. I did notice a couple of the leaves looked chewed though (I’ve pulled them off so you will think everything in our glasshouse is perfect). It’s gotta be slugs. If you look very carefully you’ll see some Blitzem top left of the photo. I haven’t found any dead bodies but no more leaves have been chewed. I tell you, the garden is a battle zone.

Ah, Battlezone. Battlezone was my favourite video arcade game in the ’80s – I was good at it too. Those were the careless days of my youth when I lived in California, drank margaritas, ate at the Mexican Cantina’s happy hour most nights, and played Battlezone to my heart’s content on only a few quarters.

I don’t drink any more, and these days am more likely to spend my spare time doing a sudoku or a cryptic crossword. But I digress. Back to New Zealand and the glasshouse. Let’s talk about my tomato. It’s coming along beautifully. It’s a “sweet 100” and has tiny flower heads forming even as we speak. Colin, there’s not a white fly to be seen, and no mildew either. I wonder if there’s a connection? It’s the first winter I’ve not seen any powdery mildew and certainly the first winter the plants haven’t had white flies. Last winter was particularly bad, but not a skerrick this year. Does anyone reading this know? Let me know in the comments below.

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Those of you with good memories will know that there comes a time in winter when I start to think about salads. It’s still pretty cold outside (below 6 degrees most nights), but I can feel the stirrings (it could be sap or maybe it’s my blood pressure) of spring. Daffodils and freesias are looking gorgeous. I’ve been having tomato and cucumber on my lunchtime sandwiches. It’s not going to be long before I’m looking around the garden for some leaves to make a salad. Naturally I was going to plant some lettuce seeds, but when I went to Mitre 10 the other day I saw they had lots of lettuce seedlings. I couldn’t resist. I bought a punnet of “red sails” and a punnet of “buttercrunch”. They’re now planted in front of the sugar snap peas in the glasshouse along with the bok choy I grew from seed. With any luck the tomatoes, lettuces and sugar snaps will all come on at the same time and I’ll be as happy as a sand boy whose salad days have come.

Those of you with excellent memories will remember me talking with scorn about not wanting to eat cucumbers in winter. And yet I’ve been eating them daily on my sandwiches … and I’ve had to buy them. It’s not only hurt my pocket. Note to self, sow at least one cucumber in April to pick over the winter.

All the seeds I planted last month have germinated and most have been planted out either in the glasshouse or the main garden. My thoughts are now turning to flowers for the side borders. I’m back off to Mitre 10 to buy some more seed raising mix. The punnets will go on the heat pad in the glasshouse. Fingers crossed by this time next month I’ll be planting out zinnias, cosmos, and some pink Japanese anemones.

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.

May 2021

Words: Mrs Darling

I’m falling for you.

_{^{Painting of Waiteata Park in autumn by Zoe Alford}}

It’s that time of year when the nights are closing in, and the temperatures are dropping. I’ve fished out my possum and merino socks (my precious), and my ugg boots (my other precious). The volume of leaves falling from the deciduous trees in the park across the road from where we live is increasing exponentially. Some of the leaves are flying rather than falling, as they float many metres high above the house from the tops of the huge London plane trees. The liquidambars are dazzling, with all their leaves still to fall.

Dr Darling spends a lot of time raking leaves in May and June. Between you and me (shhh), he puts the leaves from the ditch in the council verge on the wheelbarrow and takes them back over to the park. He says they come from there, and it’s only right they should go back. It’s better for the environment (he says) to have them composting under the trees rather than burning them which we used to do back in the day before we understood its effects. Before you write and tell me to use the leaves for compost, rest assured we do that too but we would need compost bins the size of shipping containers to use them all. We wait for the oak leaves which are a lot smaller and make beautiful compost.

The question this month is, what shall I plant in the Crystal Palace (CP = our glasshouse) to grow over the winter?

This time last year I planted zucchini and tomato seeds which came up very quickly. I was expecting the tomatoes and cucumbers I’d been growing over the summer to be nearing the end of their usefulness, but they just didn’t give up and I was forced to give the tomato seedlings away. I did plant one of the zucchini seedlings I’d grown, but it didn’t thrive. I’ve had great success with zucchini in the past though, so thought I’d give them another go this winter.

In autumn I often find self-seeded tomatoes growing wherever I’ve used our home-made compost. However I couldn’t find a single one this year when I went fossicking around to pluck one out to plant in the CP. Similarly when I went to the local nurseries to look for seedlings last month I couldn’t help but notice the complete absence of zucchinis or tomatoes. Fair enough. The nurseries aren’t growing seedlings for glasshouse owners. They must reason that if you have a glasshouse you can grow your own plants from seed. Yes we can.

I decided to plant some Sweet 100s because I have lots of winter recipes for using them cooked. I don’t like eating cold food in winter and am always amazed at people who tell me they eat salads all year round. Are you mad? The last thing I want on a freezing cold day is to bite into a cucumber. No siree Bob.

I also planted two zucchini seeds (an heir and a spare). None of the seeds had germinated five days later, so I decided to put them on the heat pad. Within 48 hours the first two tomatoes had germinated, and a couple of days later the first of the zucchini had come up. Those first seedlings will be the ones I keep. They are quite clearly the strongest.

A week ago I planted onion seedlings in the glasshouse – Italian long keepers I’d grown from seed, and Pukekohe long keeper seedlings I bought from the nursery. They’ve taken off in the soft heat of the glasshouse. It’s such a wonderful feeling to have onions growing. They’re so easy to grow, and I use them almost every day.

Also in the glasshouse at the moment are basil plants, cut back into bushes from being almost a metre tall by the end of summer. Some of their leaves are turning black though, so I’m not sure how long I’ll be able to keep them going. I still have King Sweetie capsicums growing. One of the plants has been in over 2 years now and is still producing fruit. The others I grew from seed in September. All are doing well, although they were covered in whiteflies until a few weeks ago. Read here how I got rid of them.

I have broccoli and kale seedlings ready to plant out in the main garden (they take up too much room in the CP). The only other thing I’m going to plant soon is sugar snap peas. Last year I planted them in July and they did spectacularly well. I want to see how they do if I plant them now. I’ll report back.

July 2020

Sugar, yes please. Won’t you come and put it down on me. … Need a little sweetness in my life.

Maroon 5

It feels as if it’s been a long Winter and, as Jack Palance’s character said to Billy Crystal’s character in City Slickers, “day ain’t over yet.” It’s been frosty at night but we’ve had some beautiful Spring-feeling days. On these lovely days, my thoughts turn to salads.

I love the idea of having salads all year round, but on Winter nights, the last thing I want is a cold dish. For months we’ve been tucking into Brussels sprouts, broccoli, silver beet, kale, and spinach. However, with warmer weather just around the corner (fingers crossed), it’s time to get some salad veg seeds going in the Crystal Palace (it really grinds my gears to buy lettuce when it’s so very easy to grow, but I often get caught out with no plants in at the beginning of Spring. I’m determined that won’t happen this year.)

Last year in July, our Wellington correspondent wrote a post here about growing a huge crop of snow peas in her glasshouse. I’ve been keen to try it ever since. If you grow these outside you need to wait until frosts are over, although they grow best in cold conditions. But if you have the luxury of a glasshouse, you can grow them right now. Our correspondent started her seeds off in Autumn, but I’m not in her League of Being Prepared. By the time I’d thought of putting some in (last week, mid-Winter), I realised it would be ages before we were eating those sweet, crunchy, green pods of deliciousness so I decided to cheat by buying some seedlings at the local nursery. Right now I expect you’ll be feeling disappointed in me for not growing them from seed – aroha mai. I have many other Fine Qualities.

I bought sugar snap pea seedlings from the local nursery. Sugar snaps are a cross between ordinary garden peas and snow peas, purportedly sweeter than both. Since they need support like mesh or a frame, I dug out a roll of netting, attaching it to one wall of the glasshouse with ties slipped through Eden’s crop support clips.

The roll was long enough to go the length of the raised bed. I tucked the seedlings in behind the capsicums, the basil, and the onions.

In August last year I planted King Sweetie capsicum seeds with almost 100% strike rate – it was fresh seed straight from a capsicum I bought at the supermarket. I planted half of the seedlings out in the main garden, and half inside the glasshouse. I’m still picking the fruits of those glasshouse plants now, nearly a year later, although the main garden plants have long gone. The crop has been huge – beyond my wildest dreams. I haven’t bought a capsicum in all this time. Right now they’re $3.50 EACH in the supermarket. I’ve saved a helluva lot of money.

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Even though they’re still fruiting, I planted some more King Sweetie seeds this week. I want some for the main garden, and maybe to replace the glasshouse plants too. I’ve also planted some tomato seeds (Brandywine Pink – they’ve done so well over the Winter in the glasshouse and are delicious). I figure they’ll be ready to plant out in about six weeks’ time. The frosts won’t be over then, but I’ll protect the plants until warmer weather. I want to get them in at the beginning of September to beat the psyllids whose numbers peak in January. All these seeds, plus broccoli, coriander, and lettuce seeds are on the heat pad at night. I’m quietly optimistic.