Heya, here I am again. Jack-be-quiet-I’m-busy. In all honesty if anyone else pops up I’d be afraid if I were you. I’m on a go slow again with recipes, I did buy some asparagus, which I will cook, after I find out how, probably post a recipe for it, whether I’ll like it is anyone’s guess. It’s a green stalk, it could go either way. So in talking of green stalks, not stalking green talks, or, no that’s all I have, we come yet again to gardening. The garden has been on my mind. Almost all the early spring bulbs have started, in December, the old roses, newest bare-root tea roses too, have started, not flowering, leafing? Blooming? Growing. So my mind is beginning to start up too, I’m starting to leaf through, heh, my notes from the past year. I’m still a neophyte, no not that!, it means I’m still a novice, no not a monk, I’m new to this still. Geez, dearest reader, you do try my patience, though I’ll still always look after you. So we delve into these scribbled (I almost typed dribbled and how dare you! *Wipes chin*) and marked pages and we come across a plan for new year, or at least suggestions of what might be attempted. I’m nothing if not an sanguine idiot, which depending on your definition can be said to be accurate in both cases. Bloody idiot or optimistic idiot. I know, obnoxious aren’t I? Puns over with it’s onto the plants. or potential plants.
One: Let’s do this as a list. The internet’s great love of list permeates everything in time. Even Jack’s sanctuary. (Esmeralda!) Hah…Oh, god that was bleaker then I meant. Pretend I meant the Disney movie not the book. Actually one to eight have been rubbed out. Let’s see: Sand for herbs, nah, dig out garden, done, climbing squash, worked, early started seeds, yup, did that, timber frames for beds, kinda, widen path that no longer exists, er, replace bed that is now under a planters and stones due to bind weed, sorta, save seeds, done.
Nine: Furrows, I had to wrack what little brains I had to remember the word, I’m going to do this, but I’ll be going from the path as far in as I can. I’ll have a lot more space now. I should get maybe six or so large cabbages and the rows will be doubled. Not sure how many I’ll get in the section, but I guess about five or six, probably more as the paths won’t need to be as wide. There’s no need for a fence this coming year. So, long furrows with nice cabbages, cauliflower, broccoli etc will happen. Cool. This all might seem apropos of nothing, but all the plans contained herein will be put into action next year and the, hopefully, bountiful harvest will create opportunities for more recipes and, well, more talking about squash. If all else it helps me polish my writing style, which may or may not be awful. Kidding. I am kidding, right? Dearest reader? Heh.
Ten: Type out all this. Oh, verily, seriously, look at this:
Eleven: I’m naming rather than numbering as I have to skip and the auto list won’t allow for that. Writing blog posts is a helpful way to get over the Winter, suffer the dearest reader. It says that in the bible, trust me on that and put down that bible! *Ducks* The large black collapsible pots I use are called hadopots. I’ve already done this too. The bulbs, lupins, lilies, snapdragons etc are already done. The strawberries are in the crates. That’s handy.
Twelve: Well, the area beside the green house on the left is done. Strawberry avenue, there’s, what?, a two dozen or so in the crates and barrel, more probably. The other side is covered with scraps of matting and plastic ready for potatoes in pots probably.
Thirteen: No, not cardboard. Maybe I could get a wooden sheet to cover the planter with and drill holes, but seeing as they’re in raised planters now I don’t need to worry. The ground will be planted with seedlings I’ll start so no need for this now. It is a neat idea at least.
Fourteen: Climbing plants on bamboo teepees. This would be really great. I have everlasting sweet peas seeds left so I’ll give it a try. As we say: I’ll give it a lash, Jack.
Eighteen: Cover crops. I just went with a blanket. It works well for the small space. Naru has decided she likes the feel and is continually walking all over it.
Nineteen: I may try covering a seed planted in the final thirty-six litre squash pot with a yoghurt pot, clear, to see if it’d germinate and save hardening off. I may try it next time, with the others starting in the greenhouse. Maybe a cut plastic bottle?
Twenty: Marked as fourteen for some reason. Turning hydrangea blue. I know how, whether it’ll work is anyone’s guess. Iron-rich feed and maybe some cuttings potted.
Twenty one: Old pipe with holes for plants. I like the idea. Whether I’ll be able to do it it well is hard to say. Might be fun to try. I have two sections of pipe, I don’t know from whence they came, but into the shed they’ve been placed.
Twenty two: I’m an optimist aren’t I? Water lilies in a bucket. Quiet! I will probably at least try. It just seems like a really great idea. I couldn’t make a pond or Naru would probably go for a swim. I like the idea of a pond with koi or carp or whatever those Japanese fish are called.
Twenty four: Compost tea. If I ever have compost that isn’t used right away I will try this in its simplest form. I spent a lo on squash feed aka tomato food this year.
Twenty five: Rose grafting. A pipe dream, but if the rose garden kicks off, who knows? The small roses are still growing after transplanting so I might be okay with roses.
Twenty six: An arch in the greenhouse. With tomatoes or something. I have the height, but it’s hard to say if it’d be worth it, probably best to go with teepees again. I would love a rose arch at the end of the rose garden’s path.
Twenty seven: Staging against the wall. You know the stony area just behind the dug out area, I’m toying with the idea of making up the rest of the staging and using those to grow a raised salad garden. My mizuna was extremely popular, I don’t eat it myself, but salad is fun and easy if the weather permits.
Twenty eight: Apple trees in pots from seed. We had trees started, but they had to be moved. I might save organic apple seeds and just try.
So, there are the dreams of Jack. Please thread softly as you’re putting muddy foot prints all over my dreams. That is how the Yeat’s poem goes, trust me. I’m a gardener.