The impulse to garden in hard times has deep roots

The Body Shop has announced that it is creating its first show garden at RHS Chelsea this year. It’s called The Lady Garden, designed to pay homage to its “founding feminist principles and activist roots”.

A lot of new gardening and plant books have landed on my mat this spring, and I need to up my book reviewing game! I like to do them justice, and spend some time reading them before I write a review, so that does create a bit of a backlog. Right at the time when the garden is demanding my attention. Anyway, the book that has found itself at the top of the list is one that really encompasses the gardening zeitgeist – The Community Gardening Handbook, by Ben Raskin. I looked him up, and he has impeccable credentials. He’s currently Head of Horticulture for the Soil Association; prior experiences include working for Garden Organic, running a walled garden and being a Horticultural Advisor for the Community Farm near Bristol.

A couple of weeks ago my mother asked me if I was putting the garden to bed for the winter. It’s a common gardening phrase, and yet I have very little understanding of what it means. It implies the garden is going to be hibernating all winter, which isn’t true for a well-designed ornamental garden, and certainly isn’t true for a kitchen garden. Perhaps it means the gardener is going to be hibernating all winter, and the garden needs to be prepared for a long, untended stint? It can’t be about getting the kitchen garden ready for winter, I have been doing that all year.

The garden and I are both grateful for the rain. The hot and dry weather doesn’t suit either of us. I’m happier in the cooler seasons of the year, which might explain why my autumn garden is going better than the summer one! The purple sprouting broccoli is starting to grow past its cabbage white damage, to the point where I am starting to stake it now, against the wind rock that will damage its roots in the winter. The flower sprouts haven’t got to that stage yet, but at least they are planted out in their final home and can start getting their roots down into the fertile soil. The leek bed is doing well, although there are one or two holes where seedlings have died. It doesn’t matter.

Well, we’ve been here a couple of weeks now, so it’s time I introduced you to the garden

Header image: Chimpanzee Ham with Trainers. Image credit: NASA

Header image: Blue Origin

The latest edition of Joy Larkcom’s classic, The Salad Garden, has been sitting on my ‘to review’ pile for some weeks now. It’s not that I didn’t want to read it – I did read it. It’s just that it’s extremely dense, in the sense that it contains a lot of useful information about a lot of useful plants. It’s not a book you can read quickly, digest, and move on from. It’s a reference manual that will be part of your collection for years. Forever, probably.

I found some time (and a blackbird-free window!) to spend in the garden yesterday afternoon. After pottering around looking after my seedlings, and repotting my salmonberry, I had to do some watering. April has been uncharacteristically dry, I don’t think we’ve had any rain to speak of this month. Everything in a raised bed is doing OK, but things in containers were starting to wilt.

In Keep Calm and Grow Your Own I was pondering the wisdom of stockpiling a few essentials in case Brexit causes some disruption to our (rather precarious) food supplies, but also thinking about what we could grow next year – to keep us fed in the (probably unlikely) event that those disruptions are ongoing.

Plants that have (and can) change the world is the topic for my latest article published elsewhere – Dangerously in love with plants, for the Dangerous Women Project.

One of the stories that I read as a child that has stayed with me is The Secret Garden, by Frances Hodgson Burnett. For a long time I had a copy on my bookshelf, but when I had the urge to read it last week I discovered that was no longer the case. Fortunately it’s easy enough to find a free copy, particularly as it’s part of the new range of free Amazon Kindle Classics, which you can read via the free Amazon Kindle app – you don’t need an actual Kindle.