Polystyrene Garden Junkie

Early spring

noreply@blogger.com (Lucy) — Tue, 29 Jul 2014 01:38:00 +0000

My first jonquil flowered a couple of weeks ago, just after the winter solstice. It's been a weird winter: warm most of the time with occasional bouts of freezing snowyness. My fruit trees' buds are swelling as a result, and I'm a bit worried that they'll bloom and then get frosted off. Anyway, it's nice to see the (damp) jonquils brightening up my patch of skeletal fruit trees.

Artichoke glory

noreply@blogger.com (Lucy) — Mon, 13 Jan 2014 10:03:00 +0000

I love artichokes. They're beautiful, fast growing, block weeds, are virtually impossible to kill, and are delicious. I prefer the purple ones, but they're a rare treat because they're not compatible with my stomach, unfortunately. I have green ones too, which aren't nearly as pretty or fleshy.

My purple artichoke was looking a little tired, and I am digging the entire bed up to start again, so I decided to hack the plant back, pulling away the spent flowers and limp older leaves.

Purple Artichoke mid-hack

You can see the baby plants sprouting up now that I've pulled the older ones away:

Purple artichoke, post-hack (sorry, it ain't pretty)

I should really split and replant the babies but I'm lazy.

You can see how effective the plant is as a weed suppressor by the ring of weeds around the edge of the now removed plant.

The simplest way to cook them is to boil them after cutting the spiky top off, peeling the stem, and pulling off the outer petals (dip the cut bits in lemon water to prevent them from browning). Dip the cooked petals in olive oil, oil and balsamic, melted butter, or hollendaise. If you want to BBQ them, boil them a little first, then cut in half and brush with olive oil before placing it on the barbie. Stuffed artichokes are also great.

Hint: after eating artichokes, sip some water. It tastes sugary! It also changes the taste of beer.

noreply@blogger.com (Lucy) — Mon, 26 Dec 2011 10:19:00 +0000

My first sunflower for the season bloomed the day before Christmas.

The wind made the petals a bit flappy for the picture, unfortunately.

Spring stuff

noreply@blogger.com (Lucy) — Fri, 25 Nov 2011 10:22:00 +0000

Who says lettuces can't be decorative?

My first cherries have started growing, as have my apples. You have no idea how excited I am.

cherries

baby apples

Behind the fruit trees we've put up a trellis for the kiwi fruit plants and passionfruit. My sister had the wonderful idea of using plastic coated clothesline instead of wire so they don't get too cold in the winter.

We've been overrun with snowpeas, which is not a bad thing really. I just wish they came in small doses throughout the year, rather than all at once.

It's that time of the year, and some of my peas and snowpeas have started getting the dreaded white mold on them. I have a number of peas dotted around the garden, so they're somewhat quarantined, but I remember this happening last year around this time.

Lastly, I originally made this sign for my beetroot, but it kinda fits for the red onions.

fruit tree awakening

noreply@blogger.com (Lucy) — Tue, 30 Aug 2011 11:35:00 +0000

Japanese Plum

My Japanese plum tree sprouted first, and the nectarine and apricot have weakly followed. This is their second spring in my garden, so I don't have high hopes for produce this year.

The daffs are showing off with their massive bright heads, and the rhubarb plants are enjoying their new freedom. They've settled in well, and I now realise that rhubarb is pretty hardy. I delayed moving them in fear of killing them, but they seem to be happier than ever, despite my brutal hacking (and it was violent and bloody - I still have the scar). Unfortunately, they now seem to be celebrating by seeding.

Nectarine buds

Apricot

Is this a bluebell?

black pansy

The damn rhubarb plants keep trying to flower

My first asparagus

noreply@blogger.com (Lucy) — Sat, 20 Aug 2011 08:32:00 +0000

Now I thought it took 3 years before an edible asparagus formed, but one year after digging them in, one of my crowns has delivered a wonderful specimen:


asparagus amongst the daffodils

I planted five crown last year, but most got dug up by the idiot blackbirds. After spotting the lovely stalk, I decided to visit Salamanca Market at lunch today and buy a few more crowns to replace the four that had been destroyed. So now I have six.

I also stuck in a number of Rialto Fragrant Lilium bulbs. There's a good bulb stall at the markets which sells seasonally only those ready to plant straight away. I didn't plan to buy bulbs at the markets, but I guess there are worse things to impulse buy.

I might post an image of the ceremonial inaugural asparagus picking tomorrow...

Chloe's post...

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Sun, 14 Aug 2011 10:07:00 +0000

This post was actually written 2 months ago; it's just taken me this long (and my sister returning) for me to figure out how to upload it (yes, I'm technologically inept...)

****

So, I’ve taken over most of my sister’s stuff – her house, car, dog, friends – I may as well continue the identity theft and take over her blog as well! (she's gone to Europe for 2 months...)

I’ve always been a keen gardener; mum almost killed me when I was little and decided the black recycling bins would be a great place to start a veggie garden. When I rented a place in outback NSW I transformed the garden, relandscaping and planting a Aussie Native garden which flourished in the dry heat, hopefully its still alive today (I planted it with the knowledge it would have to cope without any human input/watering once I left…). So, having just been in the UK for 2 years, without access to a garden, I’m making up for lost dirt-under-the-fingernails time.

Following our epic garden earth-works over the easter break, I’ve continued the renovations by merging the previously separate fruit tree beds at the back of the garden into one long bed. This will mean more planting space; which is always a good thing! I had to rework the brickwork a bit, which is a little crooked, I know, but it’ll do the trick…

The dogs are appreciating the extra sun-baking space on all the fresh sugar cane mulch!

I’ve attempted to ‘naturalise’ the bed by planting bulbs under the fruit trees (I’m not sure if I’ve used the term ‘naturalise’ in the correct context, but that’s what the presence of bulbs under trees seemed to be called in the UK…). Heaven’s knows what the bulbs are; I’m quite looking forward to the surprise when they pop up, which they’re already doing, one week after planting!

The new magnolia seems quite content, not doing much really, but at least its not withering. I’ve fed it with seaweed fertiliser, so hopefully it’ll come into its own in Spring. The seat we positioned at the back of the garden is a nice sunning spot in the morning, with views over the ‘burbs and bushy hills of Hobart.

I’ve pulled out the spent summer crops – aubergine, tomatoes, corn, cucumbers – dug sheep manure into the soil and planted out the beds with the cool season crops.

In bed 1 – beetroot, onions (silly delicate little things), asian greens…

Bed 2 – brassicas – cauliflower, broccoli (normal and purple-sprouting), cabbage. I’ve scattered nasturtiums throughout this bed as a companion plant.

Oh, and garlic, which I thrilled to see is already sprouting lovely fat shiny shoots. I was getting a little concerned the bed was too wet for the little things, but apparently not. The cloves are from a bulb harvested from last years crop!

Bed 3 – salad greens (mizuna, rocket, baby spinach, lettuce), leeks, fennel, peas (next to their stakes for make easy climbing...).

Pip and I are both a little concerned about the raspberry plant. It doesn’t seem to have approved of being transplanted (with a week in a bucket of water before I got around to planting it). Fingers and paws crossed that with Pip’s careful nurturing, the little cane picks up again; I was really looking forward to fresh raspberries!

Oh, and Luce, I’m not sure how you feel about daphnes… but I like them and they smell nice so I’ve stuck 3 in near the seating area for nice wafts on sunny days, lets hope they’re as odiferous as their name suggests!

On a completely different note, on a somewhat larger scale, I spotted the words ‘Octopus Tree’ on my map of the Mt Wellington area the other day and headed straight up there to satisfy my curiosity. Wow, what a tree! Anyone in the Hobart area should definitely check it out. It’s only about a 200m walk from Shoebridge Bend (the first hairpin bend after Ferntree). Also from this point I would recommend checking out O’Grady’s Falls and the lovely little ferny valley along Betts Vale Track.

Even this early on, my plantings have rewarded me with some yummy produce – I had loads of fresh greens for a salad at lunch. I’m getting sick of silverbeet, it’s such a prolific grower! My Asian dishes are packed full of greens from the garden – pak choy, bok choy, spring onions, coriander. Luce and I cooked some good Turkish inspired dishes with the last of the aubergine and tomatoes before she disappeared overseas. Italian dishes are gaining great flavours from fresh oregano, thyme and rosemary. And garlic chives, parsely and mint brighten up any dish really. Roll on the winter veg, lots of happy cooking ahead! Hopefully, Luce, you’ll get back just in time to see them at their best and enjoy the spoils!

It’s so nice to be back in a garden again!

I'll come back when the bulbs are flowering

noreply@blogger.com (Lucy) — Sun, 14 Aug 2011 10:00:00 +0000

bulb-surrounded naked fruit trees

As my previous posts indicate, I've been dancing round the other hemisphere for a couple of months. There's nothing like 2 summers! My lovely sister house sat for me, and not only looked after the garden, but planted half the current garden. At Easter, I blogged about digging up the massive patch of bulbs, which I then stashed away to replant a couple of month later. Of course, I didn't get around to it, but Clo did it while I was away. House Elf to the rescue!

from the paved area (spot my lovely new mandarin and magnolia trees)

daffs are a sproutin'

My family trekked down to Tassie for Easter, and I put them to work (picture me with whip). Collectively, we built this whole landscaped side area, and I transferred the rhubarb from the square up the back, to act as decorative (but delicious) border plants around the scallops. They're starting to sprout back, as you can see from the photos. I should give a giant shout out to my dad, who did more grunt work than the rest of us combined. He's a star.

Pip's helping to garden by devouring a bone twice her size.

Clo bought this little guy today. He's meant to be scary.

Below you can see House Elf's (oh sorry, Clo's) amazing vegie garden effort:

beetroot

fennel


pea

My Japanese plum has broken through and is the first of my budding deciduous trees for the season:

for the living room

Political vegetable gardening in Madrid

noreply@blogger.com (Lucy) — Fri, 01 Jul 2011 21:09:00 +0000

I came across this vegie garden in the centre of Madrid today, in la Puerta del Sol.

La Puerta de Sol

one of the remaining protest tents

Sol is pretty much Madrid's central and most famous square, and yet like Barcelona's Catalunya Square, it's been the site of recent protests, with activists camping out in the square (although I should point out that there's little protester presence remaining in the Madrid square compared to Barcelona). The result of the Madrid protest was this beautiful vegetable garden around the fountain. According to a local I spoke to, the protesters ripped out all the ornamentals and planted these tomatoes, curcubits, lettuces. I love the notion of political gardening.

Grand Canal gardens

noreply@blogger.com (Lucy) — Sat, 18 Jun 2011 14:04:00 +0000

I snapped a couple of mini gardens (AKA window boxes) as I was cruising down Venice's Grand Canal. There are a few grounded gardens, but other than window boxes and the popular Giardini, greenery is hard to find.

Another diarist, and some Italian garden musings

noreply@blogger.com (Lucy) — Mon, 23 May 2011 12:24:00 +0000

I've done something molto controversial: I've given my sister permission to post on my blog. Why? I'm in Italy for a couple of months, and she's dog, house and garden sitting for me. It also appears that she's a lot more productive in the garden than me, and perhaps I could learn from her....

My blog is all about learning, rather than knowing, so I think it'll be a good thing.

view from a balcony in Siena (via flowers)

I love the way in Italy, people grow bright flowers and herbs in pots everywhere - windowsills, entrances, ledges. Geraniums and petunias seem particularly popular, which amuses me because in Australia they're seen as daggy 'nanna' plants. I know, however, that geraniums are very very hard to kill, which might explain their popularity.

brave snapdragons clinging onto the rock wall

window garden

I've also appreciated the domestic produce gardens that you see squished into spare land besides roads or railway lines, similar to what I observed in Turkey. I'm not sure about the health benefits of growing tomatoes beside heavy traffic, but perhaps that's not the point.

ledge garden

artichokes unleashed

Australian shopkeepers might want to learn something from their Italian counterparts:

....and I'm not talking about the potted plants. How awesome is the fox 'diorama'?!

I also want to backtrack a little, and share a couple of photos of the Vatican gardens (as viewed from the dome of St Peters). Why? Because they have the most awesome topiaries:

Their garden layout is also pretty spectac.

Vatican Gardens

Unfortunately you have to book a tour to see the Vatican Gardens (and pay a lot of money - the Catholic church didn't get rich out of generosity), which I hadn't done. You've been warned, book in advance.

Eggplant and Further Rhubarb Adventures

noreply@blogger.com (Lucy) — Tue, 10 May 2011 11:59:00 +0000

I ate my second homegrown eggplant today. It's a big deal because Tassie is not the best place to grow eggplant - it's often considered too cold. I bought two puny seedlings last year from the bargain bin at my local nursery (perhaps not the best way to start life either). They somehow survived two snow falls over summer, and one of them has produced 5 small eggplants. The other produced beautiful purple flowers, but no 'eggs'. I can't explain the difference.

I grilled the eggplant and ate it with Shakshuka Eggs and haloumi, which accommodated my homegrown garlic, a few of the late season tomatoes, and silverbeet. Silverbeet has become a true staple for me - it's so easy to grow in any season, easily reseeds, and can be cooked in a wide variety of recipes.

I thought I'd also post this bizarre photo of me splitting and replanting the rhubarb along the new garden beds. My aunt knitted me a 'plant' beanie, which I think seals the deal.

Sculpting the Garden II

noreply@blogger.com (Lucy) — Wed, 27 Apr 2011 06:07:00 +0000

In my previous entry, I posted pictures from the first two days of the Easter Garden Sculpting Extravaganza (as it is now officially titled, headline style and all). I'm a bit overwhelmed by the lack of greenery in the new garden beds, but the layout is pretty much finished (5 minutes before the parental units were due to be driven to the airport).

Here are the pictures of the last day and a half in chronological order:

My dad smoothing out the sand that the pavers will sit on for the seating area

One of the dogs (Sage this time, I think) walked through the finally level sand


Just as most of the pavers were laid, Pip walked through the very small unpaved area. Again.

Pip looking constructive

The finished beds

purdy shapes

'steps' up to the contemplative spot. I will be sticking my refurbished tipshop bench up there under a magnolia tree

view to the domain/eastern shore (and ugly garden shed) from the contemplative spot

"there's a wolf in my garden!"

And for my next task:

my poor rhubarb plants waiting to be split replanted in their new home

Sculpting the Garden: Easter Project

noreply@blogger.com (Lucy) — Sun, 24 Apr 2011 11:22:00 +0000

I've got the family down for a good holiday digathon. At Christmas I lured my family down to Tassie with offerings of turkey and homegrown vegies for a similar reason: cheap labour.

The task for Easter is to sculpt the side area of my backyard. It's been vegie garden beds with an uber functional aesthetic since I moved in (although it was originally all weeds apart from the rhubarb square in the corner). I don't want my garden just to be functional, as in purely for fruit and vegetable production. I also want a place to sit in, study, eat, enjoy. So I drew up a plan which has nooks for seating areas: one near the house for table and chairs, and one up the back where the rhubarb (and the best view to the north east) was for solitary contemplation.

Here are some photos from yesterday's construction efforts. I stupidly forgot to take a 'before' photo, but imagine a couple of large beds with overgrown leeks, silverbeet, weeds, strawberries, raspberry etc etc.

The head digger:

My uprooted raspberry cane, sitting in a bucket of water and liquid fertiliser:

The rhubarb patch. It needs to be totally uprooted

....and a view from the other direction:

bed removal:

And some photos from today:

Bunny, my sister's Jack Russell, is helping:

Will post updates tomorrow. This afternoon we laid out tiered beds and I dug up the rhubarb, placing them in buckets of water and liquid fertiliser before we plant them out as 'decorative functional' border plants along the new scalloped beds. I just forgot to take photos at the end of the day. I hope hope hope the rhubarb plants survive, because they've been spectacularly productive the last 18 months. I also hope my attempts to split the bigger ones go well. If anyone has any rhubarb hints, let me know.

The great rogaine debacle of 2009

noreply@blogger.com (Lucy) — Mon, 21 Mar 2011 05:58:00 +0000

I was just trawling through my old LiveJournal account, abandoned since 2009. My last post made me laugh because I'd been thinking of dusting off my walking boots to do a bit of an exploration of the Bay of Fires in the NE of Tasmania. The boots haven't been used since what could probably be called 'The Great Rogaine Debacle of 2009', which was recounted in my last LiveJournal entry. It was the 2009 Tasmanian Rogaine Championships. I'd only done the small 45 mins Sydney Summer Series mini rogaines, so when Dad asked me if I wanted to do a proper rogaine with me, I suggested that maybe we do the concessionary 8 hr, as opposed to the traditional 24 hr rogaine. For those who've never heard of a rogaine (ahh..... more innocent times), it's a masochistic exercise, the bastard cousin of orienteering, where you're given a map with numbered markers (which are worth between 10 to 30 points), a hint sheet (eg. south and bottom of the cliff, in the middle of the clump of spiky weeds) and let loose in the bush. You have to get to as many markers in 24 hours, or at least get as many points as possible. Therefore you should plan to go a route that is not only manageable but strategically crosses the best weighted markers. In Sydney, you run along roads, foreshore bush tracks and various other human friendly areas. What I didn't realise in the true rogains is that it's quite the opposite. Anyway, I'll let the following entry from 30th November 2009 explain the rest:

0 mins: it's pouring, freezing cold

10 mins: Dad suddenly realises when we get up to the first ridge that he was holding the map upside down and we were actually meant to be going in the exact opposite direction.

20 mins: we leave from the Hash House for the second time, this time in the right direction (slightly puffed).

30 mins: we are standing in a valley. I say 'I think the first marker is over there by the tree edge'. Dad says 'no, these maps are deceiving luce, believe me, it's over the next ridge'.

1hr: still no marker. I finally convince dad that we are near the second marker and that we should forget the second one, which was back where I said it was. I ask what the hint sheet says, and dad tells me that he left it in the boot of the car. We crash through the bush for quite a while longer, with dad running away from the second marker and back again a few times, before I finally spot it.

1.5 hours: we are on the top of a ridge after crashing through more spiky weeds and near-impenetrable fences, most adorned with barbed wire, some with electricity. I stop to empty my boots which had become buckets, and wring out my socks. I apply a bandaid to a blister on my heel, while dad obsesses over the compass. [21.03.11 note: Dad at this point introduced me to my now favourite saying: 'false economy'. Apparently I should have told him that my heel was hurting before the blister formed. Yet if you'd seen his frantic 'must go on regardless' state, you wouldn't ask to stop even if a Tasmanian Tiger had devoured half your leg]

2 hours: we make it to number 11. Easy. Dad readjusts the compass.

2.5 hours: still looking for the next marker. Dad runs up the cliff then back down again, even after admitting that it was too far away from the river. I wander down to the spot where the marker is meant to be, while dad decides to run off over the next ridge in the opposite direction, scaring the sheep. The Derwent rages below. I find the marker, while dad is out of earshot, and I briefly joke with a group of two girls (one of only two groups we bumped into the whole rogaine) about males and navigation. They comment that he seems to have 'a lot of energy'. He finally returns, and we swipe our tags and continue up the cliffs, dad raging up like a demented mountain goat ahead of me.

3 hours: we find the next marker, after dad unnecessarily leads us downhill through the weedy and more dense scrub, and then back up again despite my protestations. The two girls are at the marker too having followed the higher road, and laugh sympathetically with me as I ask dad if he wants take his compass bearings and he replies 'no it's this way... it just feels right'.

4 hours: the blister rears its ugly head once more and requires another boot drainage, sock wringing and blister bandage (the last one).

4.5 hours: I see a copperhead snake just as I'm about to step on it in the long grass, and jump higher and further than I ever have.

5 hours: we have reached the lyall highway again after grass bashing our way through muddy paddocks, around electric fences, and through barbed wire fences. Dad decides to take the road that leads away from the Hash House in the hope of getting a mere 28 point marker. As we walk up the road, he works out that we are 8 km away from HH as the crow flies (ie. lots of hills between us), and that even at our initial speed we wouldn't be able to make it back by 8 even if we don't get any more markers. Meanwhile, I'm limping because the blister has burst, the bandage has unstuck in the wet. I'm in pain beyond belief.

6 hours: We cut into a property, climbing over a gate, which tears my beautiful raincoat. we trudge up a weed infested hill, the same spiky plants that have been getting us the whole rogaine but on a thicker and taller scale than we have so far seen. we give up on the marker that should be nearby.

7 hours: deciding that we are on 'prohibited land' (as if I cared by that stage), dad leads us over a fence, across a creek and into a steep, rocky, weed and spiky bush-infested slope. My raincoat is torn on the arm from a thorny tree. We see the 45 marker up the hill, but decide to give up on the markers due to time (and on my part, pain). I start wishing that I had been bitten by the snake at 4.5 hrs so that I would no longer be here.

7.5 hours: wading through a sea of spiky weeds (the feet pain has put the spiky weed pain into perspective), we come out at another road, and then trudge up the hill, dad counting down the minutes, and getting worried. Poor thing! I feel extremely guilty for slowing him down and making him worried. I also feel like throwing a tantrum, but decide to smile instead to try and make him cheer up. I finally gather up the courage to ask if we can stop and fix my water which stopped working a long time ago. He scolds me for not telling him earlier [false economy, again], then points up the hill we have to climb. More spiky weeds.

8 hours: Tasmanian twilight colours, the relentless hills and exhaustive walking reminds me of recent movie about Tasmanian convict Alexander Pierce and his gang of co-escapees. Decide not to eat dad though.

8 hours and 7 minutes: dad announces that we have just lost 70 hard (and that's an understatement) earned points. The sun is setting, slowly but surely. The good news is that we are nearing the original 'second' marker. The familiar surroundings give me a kick.

8 hours and 31 minutes: we are now officially disqualified. Dad's running to and fro looking for the 1st marker that we missed. He spots it finally, and despite our determination to get it on the way back, the 100m detour and extra fence crossing is enough to deter us.

8 hours 35 minutes: still trudging up the steep hill through the thick ferny mounds. Good resistance training I think as I limp through them.

8 hours 40 minutes: We squeeze through and over 2 fences. I have lost all control of my limbs it seems.

8 hours 50 minutes: we roll into the HH, having lost all points. 'At least we got here before 9pm', we think....

At 10.30pm we roll into [my driveway]. I have a burst blister on my right heel to rival my Milanese blister, an angry but intact one on my left, blisters on 5 of my toes, and bruises on both legs. I pull two spikes out of each hand, relics of the weeds that 'blessed' us the entire way. Dad asks me if I want to do another rogaine.

So there it is. At least I can laugh at my account now. Oh and if this description doesn't put you off wanting to try out a rogaine, you can visit the Rogaining Tasmania website or the national Rogaining Australia. My dad is still doing them at every opportunity, in fact he's now helping organise them for the NSW org. I might just stick to the Sydney Series shorties where the worst that can happen to you is a clump of Lantana and a nippy Maltese Terrier.

a corny tale

noreply@blogger.com (Lucy) — Tue, 08 Mar 2011 11:21:00 +0000

Last night, I ate my first home grown cob of corn. I've been watching the strictly vertical stalks grow hairy bulges, not at all sure about when to pick and eat them. The first bulge's hairy top had dried up so I peeled back the layers to check its readiness. I found beautiful yellow tiles.

The corn was soft, subtle and sweet. It had not developed all the way up the stem, and I'm not sure why. Otherwise, it was perfect.

I've also become re-obsessed with tabbouleh. I've had parsley reseeding all over the garden, which has supplied me with lots of happy green plates. My tomatoes have finally started getting into the groove, and I add those to the parsley along with spring onions and mint, which I've also grown. I also add burghul, the juice of half a lemon, some panfried pinenuts and olive oil.

reseeding glory, and some more flowering vegies

noreply@blogger.com (Lucy) — Sat, 12 Feb 2011 06:19:00 +0000

My first tomatoes reached a delicious deep red this week. None have made it into the kitchen as yet because I can't resist eating the warm fruit directly off the vine. My pumpkins are also looking quite spectacular, some photos of which I've included below. I also have some images of my newly flowering artichokes, which are fantastic.

But first, I'll share with you my latest excuse for not mowing the lawns:

grass, bok choi and rocket: a reseeding dream

some kind of brassica. I think broccoli based on how much broccoli I grow and eat

more bok choi

This is the turkish pumpkin (I forget its official name). Now, I was advised not to pick pumpkins until the leaves wither and die, but is that true? These pumpkins look pretty ready to eat.

nestled up against the fence

Is it just me or do these pumpkins look kind of rude?

My butternuts are not quite so orange, but I've got a few working hard at the moment. I grew the pumpkins around the young apricot tree, which has worked out well. There's no point sacrificing my good garden beds to such a space-hogging vegetable, and the apricot seems to like the company.

this is the most mature of the butternuts

The green artichoke has burst into flower:

totally worth letting the artichoke go to flower for

My purple artichoke is still considering its position, but the largest bud is looking massive. I'll be interested to see if the purple artichoke produces purple flowers too.

Lastly, thank you to the person who practices the recorder diagonally over the back fence somewhere. I used to be rather anti-recorder following the compulsory primary school lessons, but for some reason I quite like gardening to the mostly harmonic minor keyed songs.

Garden vs Time

noreply@blogger.com (Lucy) — Sun, 06 Feb 2011 13:55:00 +0000

I'm curled up in bed at 1am writing a post about not having enough time to garden. I've been working in multiple jobs around the clock for the last couple of weeks and the poor garden is a bit neglected. The seedlings that I've raised from seed are way too big for their pots and need planting out, the weeds are crawling up where they can, and the grass is so long that my dog disappears from view when she walks across the lawn.

However, over the last year I've developed some great 'time insurance' systems, which means that the universe doesn't implode if I'm absent for a couple of weeks. Here are a some of my faves:

1. The watering system.

Sounds complex, but in reality it's only hard for the procrastinator.

I buy the 'starter kits', simply because they're usually cheaper (mitre 10 often does '2 for $15' sales, for instance). Oh and if you buy the kits, you don't have to look like a fool digging though the buckets of miniscule parts for which you have no idea of their purpose. Just lay the pipe out in the garden, cutting at bends or t-junctions, and then stick in the upright spray bits (I'm not into technical terms). Just a word of warning on the fitting of the upright spray bits. There are little nozzle bits about 5mm in size that have to be fitted to each of the 'rigid risers'. Do NOT attempt to do this in the vegie garden. You will cry. Instead, sit inside one night with a mug of boiling water in front of the telly and a large bar of chocolate and/or wine, softening the risers in the boiling water and squeezing the bastard bits into the impossibly narrow pipes. Your hands will hurt, but that's okay because you're on the pretty path to sanctioned laziness.

The kit will tell you to measure the garden, to draw complex plans etc etc. which, if you're anything like me, will terrify you and result in the kit being abandoned in the corner of the laundry, gathering dust for 3 months. The manufacturer will also direct you to a website where you can develop your complex system, however, you have to have a conformist PC. In retrospect, I'm glad I have a mac and never got the opportunity to be overwhelmed by their program, because it's bloody easy just to go with it. And luckily the system is fool-proof. If you make a mistake, cut the hose, buy a connector or wrap it in gaffer tape and HUZZAH you've a very snazzy-sounding 'watering system'.

If you want to make it even fancier, you can buy a computerised water timer, but a) that requires a lot more money that I can comprehend spending, and b) it means that you have to work out how many litres/hour your garden needs and I'm not really into that shiz. I have manual timers on each of my 3 taps, which means I just use my own judgement as to when the garden needs watering. You can buy them for around $10.

Dial and walk away. Happy times

2. Mulch.

Until 18 months ago, I thought mulch was just the pine bark peeps put down to give their gardens a certain 'Aussie suburban' aesthetic. Yes, I'm a fool.

Mulch is sugar cane mulch, straw, pea straw on the vegie garden; wood chips around the natives; pine bark under the play equipment; gravel around the standard roses (again, I'm thinking of a specific aesthetic with this last example). Mulch is great for the time poor gardener not only because it helps retain moisture in the soil and keep the plants at an even temp, but if you chuck on enough, it helps prevent a lot of weeds from sprouting. Those that do sprout seem to come out more easily too, perhaps because they've grown tall at the expense of strength?

Oh and the sugar cane mulch gives the vegie garden quite a 'professional' look if you want to impress the neighbours.

3. Weed matting

I've just bagged out pine bark, and now I'm waxing lyrical about weed matting. Yep, I'm somewhat hypocritical.

Weed matting looks ugly, but if you want a semi-temporary solution to a lot of weeds re-sprouting, as I need in my post-weed seeding backyard, it's like black gold. Hmmm... maybe I should turn down the hyperbole a little.

After valiantly resisting the roll out (ha) of matting in my backyard, I finally decided that to keep weeding the same naked patches around the fruit trees over and over until I came up with my 'grand plan' for the area, was a false economy. So I surrounded the area with weed matting over Christmas, and I've never looked back since. It's not going to be there forever, but I love not lying awake at night worrying about the evils that will sprout overnight.

4. The ability to go with it and not freak out about bok choi going to seed, grass overgrowing, or a couple of plants dying.

I will now try and sleep on my last point of advice.

Flowering vegetables: the curiosity continues

noreply@blogger.com (Lucy) — Fri, 28 Jan 2011 12:13:00 +0000

A few months ago I blogged about letting my vegetables go to seed just out of curiosity, and I've now got quite an interesting collection of flowering vegies in my backyard.

My leeks have been in flower for quite awhile now, with their beautiful purple and white bulbous heads. I'm thinking of planting them in the front garden as ornamentals next year, along with some artichokes.

flowering Leeks

I also had a good hack away at my purple artichoke thinking that it'd stopped producing for the season. The green artichoke had just started so I'd moved on. Apparently the purple artichoke loved the hacking back to the stem (it had grown to about 2m cubed) and immediately started producing buds again. So there's a tip! To be honest, artichokes are a real treat, but I'm pretty sick of them now. I'm letting both the purple and green artichokes go to flower now for the season, just to see their big thisley flowers and compare the different varieties.

A large purple bud opening up

You wouldn't have thought I hacked this plant back a month ago. The artichoke's revenge

My green artichoke buds opening up

This is just an observation, and correct me if I'm wrong, but it seems that the green artichokes go purple on their tips when they're opening (and I suspect just past the point of edibility), and the purple artichokes go green on their tips. If you look at the photos above of the purple and green artichokes respectively, you'll see what I mean. When the buds are younger they're pretty much all purple or all green.

I've also let one of my green cabbages (actually one of my only cabbages that survived the great snail plague of 2010) go to seed. It went from being a smooth round surface one day to having these curly flowering stalks exploding out the middle the next. I was thrilled!


the flowering cabbage with some broccoli seeds hanging overhead

and now to the plants that I get to see flower AND still eat them...

My first tomatoes are starting to blush. I loathe buying tomatoes at the shops when I have so many plants in the backyard, and so I've been hovering over these plants constantly, waiting for the first tomatoes to ripen.

Roma tomatoes

Cherry tomatoes

I also have my 'experimental' eggplants starting to grow spikey things. I say experimental, because people keep telling me that Tasmania is too cold to grow eggplants. I thought I'd try anyway.

one of the spiky things growing on the eggplant. I'm assuming it's the fruit.

more spiky things with some arty-looking water drops

one of my great successes last year were my lebanese cucumber plants, so I thought I'd relive the dream

I've never grown corn before, and I'm a bit concerned that my plants are a lot smaller than those at the community garden down the road. Could it be because I planted them too late? Or perhaps that they had to grow over and over after snail attacks? I'm not sure exactly what stage they're up to yet, or how the corn forms, but to be honest they're fulfilling quite an interesting role at the moment: garden sounds.

When I think of gardening and the senses, sight, touch, smell, and less so, taste, are all obviously engaged. However, I think the sounds of the garden can get discounted. Obviously birds have a significant place in the sound landscape, but the sounds of plants are usually only activated when wind is involved. Even with only a small breeze, corn makes an amazing sound. It's more than rustling. I only really noticed it today for the first time (I've not been gardening much lately due to work commitments), and at first I couldn't work out where it was coming from. I wasn't consciously searching for the sound, it was just something that was mulling around in my head. It pleased me that such a distinctive but soothing sound was produced by my largely ignored corn stalks.

I wrote recently about planting all these watermelon seeds. I transferred the happy-looking seedlings to the garden once they got to about 4 cm in height. From I think a total of 20 seedlings, this little one below is the only one left. Snails. Again.

A happier story involves my pumpkins that are keeping my apricot tree company:

to the left of the tree are the turkish pumpkins, to the right, butternut. In the foreground, asparagus.

a butternut pumpkin mid-growth (when are they ready to eat?!)

I can't remember the full name of this pumpkin, but it has the word Turkish in the name.

A Christmas garden overhaul: bulbs, beds and box

noreply@blogger.com (Lucy) — Fri, 07 Jan 2011 04:14:00 +0000

I was fortunate enough this Christmas to have my parents visit Tasmania, or more specifically, help me in the garden. We spent 2 out of the 5 days, digging up bulbs (with surprising results), weeding, de-claying soil, uprooting the evil roses, and most importantly, eating a christmas vegie feast.

The Christmas Day vegies from the garden: artichokes, red cabbage, beetroot, silverbeet, broad beans

My Green Globe Artichokes, pre-cutting.

Pip enjoying some cabbage company. The purple cabbage behind her later became lunch

broadbeans, hiding behind the beautiful flowering chives


Mum's interpretation of 'dead heading' the daisies.

Dad with his 'shovel' (apparently a shovel is different to a spade - he had to buy his own shovel for the job)

Dad's amazing digging job in the two top garden beds. The nearest patch was the 'bulb patch' (see below)

the bulbs extracted from the 3msq patch

I decided to move the bulbs from a 3 square meter patch near the clothes line, and turn it into an extension of the lawn for now. The patch had a revolving show of bulbs most of the year, and while it was beautiful, the patch was quite weed-ridden, and not exactly in the most convenient location. I've not had much to do with bulbs in the past, however, the previous owners obviously loved them, as they magically spring up all over the garden. The small patch in the back was completely overcrowded with them, and after a quick google search I found out that I should actually be lifiting and dividing bulbs occasionally (depending on their variety), so it was quite fortuitous that I decided to move the patch. Apart from the daffodils, which mostly have their yellowing stems still attached, I'm not really sure which bulb is which - they all look very similar. So I think I'm going to dry them all out and plant them around Easter.

Some of the websites that I consulted had some very involved instructions: dig the bulbs up every year, store them in boxes lined with sand or peat moss, put them in the freezer, plant them in specific areas etc etc. I think I'm going to stick to the more simple instructions: plant them, leave them in the soil, dividing them occasionally, and if they seem upset, readdress the issue then. The KISS rule...

Box hedging, which we planted around my greengage/golden drop plum tree.

Agapanthas have replaced the evil roses

My mum helped dig up the evil miniature roses, which I've loathed since I moved in: they have tiny thorns which spike through gloves and clothes, they were always weed-infested and impossible to weed because of the thorns, they were various shades of pink, and, well, they were 'suburban' roses (not my kind of aesthetic). Unfortunately, when we dropped the roses off at the tip to be recycled into mulch, my mum spotted someone emptying a heap of agapanthus plants into the pile too. She grabbed them for my garden, despite my pleas otherwise. Evidently, she's still 'boss', even though it's my house. I'm a little confused about the weed status of agapanthus - in the weeds of Tasmania booklet I have, they're listed as a weed, yet they're beautiful plants which are sold at nurseries around Hobart and planted by Hobart City Council. I think if I'm vigilant about cutting the stems off before the flowers go to seed, it'll be okay.

The dog supervising the rose bush removal

Mum also removed the daisy-like bushes that were responsible for my really bad hayfever last month, which turned into an infection - not a good infliction for a gardener...

My leeks in flower. I'm glad I left some of them to satisfy my curiosity. Such stunning flowers!

SBS Featured Foodie

noreply@blogger.com (Lucy) — Fri, 07 Jan 2011 03:06:00 +0000

I've had the honour of being SBS's recent 'Featured Foodie' because of Polystyrene Garden Junkie. The article can be found here.

If you haven't already, I recommend that you have a further look at the SBS food site. It has a lot of great (and achievable) recipes, and links to all their food-related shows, including the fantastic Tasmanian-based Gourmet Farmer. I also have a soft spot for Heston's Feasts (which screened late last year) and Food Safari. Last year an Indonesian-focused episode of Food Safari led me to my new fave Sydney restaurant Jimbaran, which serves a dish of stir-fried Morning Glory - a plant which I'd previously only known as a weed, and definitely not a weed I'd consider edible. I love discovering edible weeds and flowers.

seeds vs seedlings: a tale of garden snobbery

noreply@blogger.com (Lucy) — Thu, 23 Dec 2010 02:29:00 +0000

The other night at the pub, I got into an animated discussion with a guy who thought that buying seedlings (vs seeds) was the ultimate gardening laziness. It was not the first time I'd come across such plant 'purists' (as I think they'd like to be known), and it seems to be the gardening equivalent to competitive backpacking.

As a keen gardener, but also a reasonably time poor (and often cash poor) gardener I believe that seedlings have a valid place in a backyard garden, and here are a couple of reasons why:

A punnet of seedlings often costs the same as a packet of seeds. If you're anything like me, you don't want an entire packet's worth of spotted Turkish gourds, so it makes sense to just buy a ready sprouted punnet, particularly if you know that you can save the seeds for a following year (if the spotted gourds are worth it). If you're fortunate enough to have a local seedling producer such as Hobart Kitchen Gardens, who sells individual pumpkin seedlings for $1 each, which have been grown from seeds produced by the Tasmanian-based Lost Seed company (they specialise in heirloom, true-to-type seeds, which means that you can reliably save seeds), then you'll actually be saving money with the knowledge that you can grow them again next year with the saved seeds. A couple of months ago, I bought 3 pumpkins from the HKG stall at the Melville St Farmer's Market. All three were of different varieties and cost me $3 overall. If I'd bought seeds, it would've cost me almost $10 for the 3 packets. Yes, I would've had about 25 seeds in each packet, vs the one pumpkin seedling, but considering that I have a number of butternuts that I've grown from seed already (last year's saved seeds), who has room for that many pumpkins in a suburban backyard?
Scenario 1: you've planted a packet of basil, and watched as the seeds sprouted, the little seedlings growing under your loving care as the spring weather warms the ground. You're dreaming of all the pesto you're going to make etc etc.... and then one night, when they're about 3 cm tall, the entire patch is decimated by snails, an evil army of snails. True story. In this case, my solution was to buy another packet of seeds, but also buy a punnet of basil, so that I'd have some already started at the same growth as my homegrown seedlings. When the beasts attack, seedlings are great consolation presents...
Scenario 2: you've dug up a patch of weeds, and want to fill it quickly and cheaply with some colour. So you go buy those tubs of pansies that are always for sale at 5 for $5 or something like that. The pansies not only fill a gap, but are great for blocking weeds from coming up, particularly as they spread quite rapidly. (plus, this is kinda embarrassing, but I cannot, for some perverse reason, grow pansies from seed. If anyone has any tips, please share)
You're new to gardening, you want to start off nice and easy, and it's a lot quicker and easier to buy seedlings than seeds, particularly as a lot of seeds need special conditions to sprout. Don't feel guilty about buying seedlings, there's no shame.

Mr competitive gardener, I'll repeat, there's no shame in buying seedlings, just like there's no shame in wanting to see the Louvre, the Leaning Tower of Pisa, the Tower of London, the Angkor Wat, the Statue of Liberty, or the Sydney Opera House...

Rant over.

Incidently, I've been growing some things by seed in pots before I transfer them into the ground. I've had little or no limited luck growing things like lebanese cucumbers, sunflowers, snapdragons, and pansies from seed in the ground, so it's often better to grow them in punnets and then transfer them to the ground later (something that I've only just acknowledged). Some of the punnets, such as the Tigerella tomatoes and many butternut pumpkins have been given away as Christmas presents.

Pictured below are my 'flower' seeds: Sunflowers in the foreground, Zinnias on the right middle, black pansies and snapdragons in the unchanged pots (of course):

At one week

After 2 weeks. Note the still empty Pansy punnets... Oh and 'Nola' -the grape - is in the front

Below: The 'vege' box (I'm still finding a use for those beloved polystyrene boxes). Tigerella and Gardener's delight seedlings in the far top right, lebanese cucumbers, to the left of them, silverbeet in the middle left, experimental watermelon (I don't know how I'll go in Tassie's cool climate) on the bottom right, and more butternut pumpkins on the bottom:

One week in (note the number of black ex-pansy pots)

Two weeks later (with a couple of presents for friends missing)

catch up post: artichokes, bugs, evil birds and more...

noreply@blogger.com (Lucy) — Tue, 30 Nov 2010 04:12:00 +0000

I'm having a temporary break from having the internet at home, so for the next month or so I'll be doing fewer but longer blog posts from the uni library (this post is therefore sponsored by UTAS...). Today, I have a mega stroll-around-the-vegie-garden-style post. The baby birds that have been tweeting from the gutter right above my bedhead have finally grown up, and just like their parents they like to dig up all my (not cheap) sugar cane mulch and seedlings, eat my strawberries, and fly off with entire pea seedlings in their grubby beaks. The other day, as I was netting my strawberries, there was a line of 3 birds watching me from the fence with their yellow eyes, occasionally sharpening their beaks on the palings, plotting their revenge...

Initially, sensing a growing threat from the birds as the blueberries grew bluer, the birds multiplied in my gutter, and the sheer cheek of a bird flying off with an entire seedling in its mouth, I bought some 'humming bird wire' from the hardware store (you can vaguely see it in the above photo - it's running above the white netting). $17.95 for bird wire, with the capacity to cover my entire yard with ease vs $50 for bird netting? I reasoned that the wire was a better option. I leapt around the backyard, foolishly triumphant as I hammered in posts and attached the wire to old stockings, designed to take some of the slack (on a side note, what do single men use for garden ties?). However, the wire turned out to be a false economy. The next morning I went outside, and three cheeky birds were doing the early shift, checking the strawberries for ripeness and sifting through the mulch for worms. My message: don't buy 'humming bird wire'. Needless to say, I had to pay the hardware store another visit, returning home with a mass of surprisingly expensive netting. So much for 'saving money' by growing your own vegies...

Anyone (including myself) who has sneered at my Fine Arts degree and wondered what in the hell I'll use a sculpture major for, should check out my strawberry construction. It's titled Bird Net Over Strawberries and challenges the notion that art and functionality are mutually exclusive. In all reality it's just a bodgy construction of bamboo stakes, gaffa tape, netting and old tent stakes, but it's holding up surprisingly well. The bird wire can be seen in the below photo as well.

Bird Net Over Strawberries (2010), dimensions variable

On another triumphant note, my green artichokes are sprouting well. The mothership looks fairly ready to eat, and the smaller side-flowers are just about there too. My purple artichokes, mentioned in previous posts are just about gone. I had stall at a market on Sunday, where I sold a number of them (along with rhubarb and silverbeet), and I suspect that the stocks are just about drained. I wonder if the purple variety always flower before the green variety, or whether it's just because the green plant is slightly younger?

The Mothership

et al

I also had my first pea harvest (so peas don't grow in frozen packets?). I picked a decent bowl of pods (after finally establishing which area I had planted the peas as opposed to the snowpeas - an argument for naming seedlings as you plant), and bought 300g of prawns ready for a prawn and pea risotto. Just as the rice was soaking up the wine, I remembered that I had to get the peas out of the pods, and got out a big bowl for the peas in anticipation. I needn't have bothered. There are SO FEW PEAS IN A POD! Who would have thought... Oh and it seems that you can eat the pods too, as I gnawed on a few pods out of hunger as I was cooking, and, well, I'm not dead yet...

A not-quite-ready pea

It's not all stories of triumph: I'm still having troubles with getting a decent head of broccoli. I've tried planting at different times of the year, fertilising, companion planting, but they still go from here (tiny head)

scungy brocoli head

to here:

"but I never even saw you bud!?!"

The cabbages are also quite frustrating, although I can take my anger out on the green caterpillars that like to munch on the leaves. They're delightfully fun to squash!

The creatures that I haven't come across before are those on my cherry tree that I just noticed this morning: little black slug-like creatures (pictured below). Help! what are they? how do I get rid of them?

The nectarine tree (I think - I forgot to mark the trees too), which has the leaf curl is producing cute little fruit things. Now, I know that people say that you should break off fruit to encourage growth in the first year, but is it really necessary? The poor tree's trying so hard despite the odds....

Oh and last but not least, my leeks are going to flower. They're such beautiful forms with their curved buds and so I really have no regrets not eating them all.

For the last year, I've left a couple of almost all plant varieties to go to seed, simply because I'm curious about their life-cycles. I think it's a good way of learning, and as an added bonus if you're lucky (like I've been), things like spinach and lettuce will come up the next year without you lifting a finger...

Blue[green]berries, an unlikely flower and a curly problem...

noreply@blogger.com (Lucy) — Sat, 06 Nov 2010 06:25:00 +0000

I've just come in from an arm-buggering session mowing the grass. I own a handmower partly because it's better for the environment (not using petrol or electricity), partly because I can't afford to get someone to regularly mow my lawns for me, and partly because it's a lot cheaper than a gym membership (that is, it's good exercise). I haven't really needed to mow all winter, but now that it's spring, it seems to be a weekly calling, which a bugger 'cause i really don't like grass (and have evil plans afoot to kill it all...).

However, spring has also brought a few other surprises: the very unlikely flower that bloomed out of the otherwise unremarkable spikey plant has bloomed again (pictured above). I don't know what it's called.

The blueberries are starting to form. It's the first time I've ever seen blueberries that have not come from a plastic container, so I'm pretty damn excited. The particular plant variety pictured right is called 'Denise', but 'Brigitta' is also starting to produce.

As an experiment, I planted the two trees in different areas - Brigitta is in full sun in the front yard, and Denise is down the side of the house with partial sun, particularly in winter. Now I know it's not a true experiment as they're different varieties; but because blueberries apparently like full sun, I just wanted to see what would happen. Interestingly, Denise, who lost all her leaves in winter, has actually produced more flowers (and hence will produce more berries) than Brigitta, who retained a few of her leaves. They're actually very beautiful bushes, with leaves that turned a lovely artichoke purple in autumn. You can see a few of the white flowers that then turn into the berries in the picture. The berries are still quite small and not ready for eating, but I suspect that I'm going to have to net them this weekend before the ruddy blackbirds cotton on.

Meanwhile, the artichokes are on super-productive-mega-drive. I can't keep up with the sheer pace, particularly as the one plant seems to have divided over the 8 or so months I've had it, and so I have twice as many artichokes. I didn't realise until this morning, but the buds are forming all the way down the stem, not just at the top. I had a few friends around last weekend and decided to see what they were like to BBQ. I boiled the artichokes for about ten minutes, then halved them and BBQed them with some olive oil. They're fantastically versatile vegetables once you get over the initial fear of cooking them. Additionally, while people say 'oh you have to get out the choke', 'you can't eat the choke', I believe that's rubbish. I eat the choke every time (and I've never choked...).

The strawberries that the crazy neighbour gave me last year, too late in the season to actually produce, have quadrupled in size and have the lovely white and yellow flowers that I'd be quite happy having in the garden even if they didn't produce fruit.

One thing that disappoints me however, is that my nectarine tree seems to have leaf curl. This morning, I trotted off to the nursery that sold me the tree in August to get them to confirm the problem, and they seemed surprised that it had the problem so soon. Apparently, there's not much I can do about it at the moment other than pull all the 'curled' leaves off and burn or tightly bag them and stick them in the bin to stop the spread of the fungal infection. Then next winter I need to spray them with anti-fungal spray, and again as the tree's budding.

Bloomin' Progress

noreply@blogger.com (Lucy) — Thu, 28 Oct 2010 08:00:00 +0000

Well, all but one of my expensive 'sticks' has bloomed. When I say sticks, I mean the fruit trees I bought and have been anxiously waiting for them to flower and greenify. The exception is one raspberry cane, which definitely just looks like a prickly stick.

A few of the trees have flowered and well as growing leaves, and I wonder if they'll actually produce one or two edible cherries, apricots, nectarines, apples, or greengages this year? I proved last year with dear little Figly (the Genoa Fig tree) that I'm unable to pull off fruit in a tree's early formative years simply to encourage growth, so they definitely have to be edible.

In regards to the artichokes mentioned in the previous post, since I last blogged I've had 5 more smaller artichokes to play with. They're wonderful boiled for 20mins in salted water and then eaten with oil and balsamic. Just watch out for the boiled baby slugs curled up in the 'petals'.

As I mentioned in a recent post, I'm having a few image transfer issues. I hope to post photos of the trees and get back to more illustrated blogging soon. What's the fun in just words?!