Allotments – The Birth of Domesticated Horticulture

Click on the first thumbnail to start the show, and toggle from slide to slide by using the arrows. Note: You may have to scroll to find the arrows below the verticals, in particular. Enjoy.What are all these images, and where did they come from suddenly? My beloved Nebraskan-English-Transplant correspondent explains (imagine this with an accent if you can):“My mum has begu

The numbers on a fertilizer bag are the so-called N-P-K ratio, the percent of nitrogen, phosphorus, and potash (or potassium, chemical symbol K) inside the bag. Simply speaking, nitrogen is for green growth; phosphorus is for roots, flowers, and fruit; potash is for general vigor and disease resistance. A so-called balanced fertilizer, often recommended in books, is one that has equal percentages of each element.With chemical fertilizers, the numbers are much higher than with organic formulations. A standard is 10-10-10 or 5-10-5, meaning there are those percentages of each element in the bag (the rest is filler). You won’t find those totals in any organic formulation. In fact, if the total of the three numbers on a so-called organic or natural bag adds up to more than 15, I’m suspicious. Unless blood meal—an organic material very high i

But Deb, up the hill, outdoes us all. Deb leaves dirigibles. You know: like the Hindenburg—but of shallots, that is. “What in the world is that?” I asked in my email reply after the hefty thing had landed (pictured above, with two good-sized onions and a coffee cup for scale). And Deb emailed back thus:“It’s a banana shallot,” she wrote. “I first saw banana shallots, also known as chef’s shallots, on one of Jamie Oliver’s cooking shows. I couldn’t believe it when I saw the thing–it is enormous, as big as a good size yellow onion and in truth, bigger than some bananas!  I love shallots (the onion’s sweeter sister) and have grown the traditional variety for years from sets (or bulb-lets). The possibility of growing this new variet

THIS LITTLE-KNOWN SPECIES (apparently first discovered and named by famed British plant explorer Andre Jordan) reminds me of all the plants I used to bid on at rare-plant auctions. The thinking always seemed to be that the harder it was to grow, the more valuable it was–and up went the bids, sky-high.

“Just as a computer comes with certain pre-installed programs, I was born with a fully functional 7.0 horticultural operating system…I wasn’t very popular in high school, where an interest in plants was not something for a guy to admit in public.”Rosalind Creasy, author and edible landscaping guru:“I was in charge of finding the cutworms curled around [my father’s] tomato plants. With every cutworm I found, he would whoop and holler; I felt like I had saved the family from starvation.”Penelope Hobhouse, author and National Trust gardener:“Gardening is not about instant gratification. It is a process—from seedling to flower (a matter of a few weeks) and from small rooted cutting to a useful shrub (often a few years). This whole process, rather than the ultimate product, seems to me half the joy of gardening.”Ken Druse, author and photographer:“Why do I garden? Am I crazy? I don’t

The British Clematis Society’s seedhead page makes it all very clear, should the thought of propagating vines from seed–or just a deeper desire to understand what is going on outdoors, which is what always gets to me–cross your mind. Follow each of those feathery tails (the strands of silky stuff) down to the base of the puffball, and you’ll usually find the beginning of a seed. Those in the picture aren’t ripe yet, in case you’re wondering. Still too shiny.(*Or maybe you’re just wondering what a wig-hat is? Don’t ask me; I learned the phrase from Tommy Tucker’s much-covered 1964 Number 1 single. It’s apparently something you wear with “High-Heel Sneakers,” as the tune was titled. My Clematis didn’t read the enti

FORUM MEMBER TERRYK IS SO RIGHT TO ASK: Whether or not we can add weeds to our compost heaps without risking weed-filled finished compost is a confusing topic. Won’t all their seeds sprout, or runners survive–especially in a slow-cook, not-so-hot heap? This week, we have the answer in the Urgent Garden Question Forum…thanks to some advice from our English gardening brethren (and a couple of giant plastic bags).

“Primula veris is the ‘English cowslip’ that was once commonly found in pastures and meadows,” says the American Primrose Society website. The plant, which extends into Siberia, Turkey and Iran, is also one of the parents of the modern polyanthus hybrids—the plant most people envision when you say “primrose.”The species name—veris—means “of spring,” particularly apt once you’ve seen its cheerful yellow flowers held well above ample foliage.So why aren’t we all growing this charmer—which owing to its origins in those meadows of the U.K., Europe and Asia is sturdy enough to hold its own even in competitive quarters such as those I inadvertently subjected it to?“It is not common,” Marilyn Barlo

If you haven’t grown sorrel, Rumex acetosa, it’s easy from seed but perennializes even in my cold-winter garden (apparently even in Zone 3). It’s one of the first things to be up and growing, so I could have made sorrel soup weeks and weeks ago—or used the young, more tender leaves in salad, where they add a tart, not-quite-lemony flavor. A pretty, red-veined sorrel is especially nice in salads; it’s a close cousin, Rumex sanguineus. Neither species is tasty when the leaves get big and tough, so keep picking. (That’s it emerging in early spring in my raised-bed garden.)Sorrel is related to knotweed (meaning it’s in the Polygonaceae, or buckwheat family, as you can tell when it sends up its flower stalk around now). The Royal Botanic Gardens website says on that it’s native to the British Isles, and was once used to treat scurvy.spinach and sorrel soupTHIS SOUP is very green-tasting and tangy; delicious hot or cold, and thicker or thinner according to your preference.

What special innovation in technique, exceptional plants, or flair with color or design did each of those 40 hand down to the rest of us? Matthew Biggs’s book is loaded with their garden wisdoms, and also with the charming tale of each luminary and how they got to the garden in the first place.Matthew, who trained at the Royal Botanic Gardens, Kew, is the author of various earlier books including “The Complete Book of Vegetables,” and is a regular presenter on BBC Radio 4’s “Gardene

Years later, when visiting English gardens, I’d smile to see what are referred to as “houseleeks” happily growing on shed roofs, out of stone walls, and in other unfussy spots.These days at nurseries and in plant catalogs, Grandma’s version, the Sempervivum, are just the start–joined by what my friend Katherine Tracey of Avant Gardens Nursery calls “the other hens and chicks.”I got inspiration on the creative use of succulents from Kathy on my public-radio show and podcast. Read along as you listen to the April 1

“When I asked her about her formative years,” he writes, “I could see a mirror image of my own self in her pained experiences.”Yes, like those plants I wish I’d never planted—that I will never be rid of, such as the damn Houttuynia, and so many other decisions made out of ignorance. Or how rough I was on myself when the beds I’d make just didn’t look like those glorious photos of vast, non-stop-blooming herbaceous borders in the English garden books that were the gold standard when he and I began gardening in earnest.We both keep learning, and learning to let go.Of course as longtime garden journ