April became May, became June and little feels changed. Our absurdly good weather continues as Mother Nature thumbs her nose at us mere mortals and the less clever out there flock to crowded beaches and share sweat, amongst other things.
Lockdown has been a test for us all.
At first, I viewed the uninterrupted timespan as an opportunity to do, well, EVERYTHING! But there is an absurdity in having loads of time. Tomorrow is free - and the day after, so it is hard to find direction. Suffice to say that I have done very little on the EVERYTHING list.
One of the things I have done is to slave away at the veggie garden. Early results were positive as my greenhouse filled up with sprouting kale, tomatoes, cucumber, spinach, courgette, beans and even butternut. It was all looking bumper-crop out there for a minute.
Then I planted my seedlings out.
When I first attempted spinach in my new garden, my neighbour told me, with great confidence, that `nothing eats spinach.' And that was true - that year and the two years that followed. This year however, something definitely eats spinach! Eight spinach plants were reduced to nothing in the space of a single night.
Something also definitely eats courgette and cucumber plants. Bizarrely, `something' has left the beans, corn and the mangetout (a usual delicacy)alone, but has chomped its way through every cucumber plant with great gusto - and a little bit of cruelty. Typically, the leaves disappear on the first night, then the stalk is despatched on night two.
In a fit of eco-gardening pique, I rushed out to the local garden centre as soon as it opened and purchased a dozen marigolds. Somewhere, in the back of my mind, I remembered that marigolds, planted as companion plants, can dissuade pests. I planted marigolds strategically between my crops and, fairly confident, shut the gate on the veggie patch.
You've probably guessed it: in the morning every single marigold was well and truly chomped - except for the flowers. They stood like forlorn little twigs, marking the spaces where the courgette and cucumber should have been. I imagined the `something' watching my astonishment and and grinning broadly. So I gave up. Sort of.
I'm pleased to say that I devised a sneak attack and now have TWO (yes, two!) cucumber plants and Two (yes! TWO!) courgettes that are big enough to dissuade the `something'. The cucumber plants are the result of trial and error and sacrifice. I cultivated them in the greenhouse and then cautiously planted them out - one at a time. They were like the sacrificial goat. I kept trying different barriers, but nothing stopped their demise. I was left with two plants that grew big and strong. The one was planted in a secret location, far from where the `something' is known to roam. And its doing just fine. The second almost became a permanent greenhouse fixture, but I often forget to water greenhouse plants, so the decision was made to plant it out. I constructed a very elaborate cage with enviro-mesh and the cucumber plant was transferred to the veggie patch. Success!
The courgette story is a lot less involved: a friend has managed, without greenhouse or veggie patch, to grow an astonishing number of vegetables in pots. She gave me two courgette plants which are big enough to stave off the attentions of the `something'. Taa-daa! I think the `something' and I are just about even.
On another note (pun intended), the garden is fit to bursting with birds. Lockdown has obviously benefitted our feathered friends and my garden is far more fluttery and noisy than I ever remember it being. This year, for the first time, I have encountered a chaffinch close up. I have seen them before when out walking, but don't have much knowledge about this fiesty little bird.
 |
| http://www.publicdomainfiles.com/ |
The introduction was a bit brutal. Following the sounds of repetitive `thunks', I found a little bird fiercely attacking his reflection in my car wing-mirror. I chased him off and covered the mirror, whereupon he switched sides. So I had to cover up both mirrors. Undaunted, this territorially charged little bird then took on the lounge windows, the sliding doors and had a go at the conservatory. I spent a lot of time over two days shoo-ing off a crazed chaffinch and eventually thought I had won. Only to wake up on day three to a battering of the upstairs windows! I confess that I snuck up on him then and yelled `boo!'. He paused and observed me closely before flying off - perhaps checking that I wasn't that pesky chaffinch he'd been after for three days! I haven't seen him since, so can only assume that he has moved his territory to somewhere with fewer reflective surfaces.
My sister sent me a helpful article about how to discourage birds from pecking at windows. Apparently the proper way of deterring them is to stick bits of flapping plastic to reflective surfaces - thereby scaring them off. Interestingly, the same article mentioned that wild turkeys in the United States attack their reflections in car bodywork.(If this is a problem where you are, the advice is to not wash your car.) All I can say is that I'm really pleased to be dealing with a chaffinch - I'm not so sure if a wild turkey would respond to `boo!'
And just because I have this lovely photo: did you know that leeks, if allowed to go to seed, produce the most beautiful flowers? Leeks take forever to grow and my efforts were gritty and unpleasant - so I left them alone. Leek flowers make the most gorgeous long-lasting cut flowers - even if they smell a little oniony. Happy sunshine, everyone!
