APPLE CRUNCH

We’re out in Burnfoot collecting apples from a friend’s garden. Apples haven’t heard about the recession or the credit crunch and this year has brought an abundance of the tasty fruits. I have been designated ladder holder as the kids wobble their way to the top of the tree for the reddest, most perfect fruit are hanging on the uppermost branches. I ponder on the human tendency to feel that the best things in life are just out of reach and try giving the tree a shake. Julie is collecting the windfalls from the ground and is chewing appreciatively comparing the crisp apple texture to that of a coconut and making rather disparaging comments about shop bought golden delicious. She stops to throw me a filthy look as my shaking quite literally bears fruit and one of the perfect apples bounces from the top of the tree onto her head. The kids giggle and continue to fill the bags to capacity. On our way home we discuss the treats in store for us. Apple pie, stewed apples, pork and apple sauce. When we get back, the juicer is dragged out from the back of a cupboard and after a wipe down we start to experiment with the apples adding carrots, cucumber and celery for different taste experiences. The colours are fabulous and the taste is like a high intensity vitamin shot. After that we have enough energy to make some apple jelly. I get out an old pillow case and hang it over the backs of two chairs to drip the concoction overnight ending up with a golden transparent conserve -yum yum. Early apples like these tend not to store as well as the later varieties and go powdery after a short time. Later apples can be stored in a cool shed wrapped individually in newspaper. The apples get drier and sweeter as the winter goes on.

WE HAVE A WINNER

Thank-you for all the entries for your favourite season gardening competition I have enjoyed reading the letters and comments from gardeners around the peninsula.

However, there was one entry that stood out. Judith Doherty from Greencastle thinks that we here in Ireland have the privilege of an extra season. Judith is currently on a horticultural course in Templemore, County Tipperary and her mother kindly sends her down the gardening articles from the paper. Congratulations Judith and I hope you enjoy the prize –the Dr Hessayon books. No doubt they will be useful in your career in horticulture.

I think you will agree that Judith’s observations are worthy of first prize…..


MY FAVOURITE SEASON

Ireland has a fifth season! This new season is an unusual combination of spring, summer, autumn and winter. Many days throughout 2008 have confused us with this situation of having four seasons in one day. An hour of June sunshine was followed by April showers, which preceded a darkening autumn sky that promised a winter afternoon. Watering the hanging baskets this summer was few and far between. The strong sun followed by windy gusts rarely dried them out, as there was always a certainty of a downpour on the afternoon.

If we gardeners are rather perplexed by this new season, imagine how confused the animals, birds and plants are. The swallows, which traditionally depart from our shores mid- September, prolonged their stay until mid – October. The mimulas that I planted in early May, have rejuvenated themselves into producing a third flush of canary yellow flowers, with no sign of fading. The white Lobelia has still got many buds waiting to burst open, instead of joining the compost heap.

Even though the Halloween festivities are looming, I am still enjoying the summer garden. As a result of this extension of the season, the plugs of winter pansies and violas I recently bought are staring angrily at me! They are waiting to get settled into their new homes for the next seven months or so. If only I’d take out the Busy Lizzies and Geraniums, which should be happily enjoying the shelter and the warm provided in the front porch by now.

So I guess I’d have to say that my favourite season id this new Fifth Season. I am still enjoying the summer flower displays. I have all of my spring bulbs planted. The autumn/winter bedding is lined up on the garden bench in polystyrene containers. But I don’t know when I am going to plant them because I do not know what season it’s going to be tomorrow!! – Judith Doherty.

MAKING LEAF MOULD

With the autumn weather well and truly established, I have finally given up waiting for the summer to come and I have decided to embrace the season. To celebrate, I went out and bought myself a pair of fluffy slippers this week and they are a great way to save on the fuel bills. I feel all nice and cosy. I think I’ll get a pipe next. Another way, I am keeping warm is to go outside and get a bit of work done in the garden.

One job that always keeps me toasty is sweeping leaves. I used to get top bonuses on the council when I worked in the parks department by saying that I swept all of the paths everyday to free them of these slippery bits of organic matter. The damn things just kept coming back though….. In reality I was warm and cosy in the cricket pavilion having a crafty snooze. Of course I am too mature now to skive off the daily duties so I am up to my neck in the soft tones of autumn. I have raked up huge piles of leaves now so what is the best thing to do with them? Well it’s not the best idea to burn leaves; it’s probably illegal now too, so I’m going to speed up nature and turn them into a useful addition for the garden. Most leaves can be turned into leaf mould, but some take longer to compost than others. Oak, alder and hornbeam will soon rot down, while sycamore, beech, horse chestnut and sweet chestnut take a little longer, but who’s in a rush?

There are quite a few conifers and evergreen plants in the grounds and these leaves take between two and three years to compost so I won’t be using many of these leaves and of course as I pride myself on being a lazy gardener, I’m leaving all of the fallen foliage that have ended up under the hedges and other out of the way areas, where they are. They are not untidy, they will add goodness to the plant when they rot down and they may be used as hibernating sites by hedgehogs and other creatures. So how do you make leaf mould?

WHAT IS LEAF MOULD
Leaf mould is a form of compost produced by the breakdown of shrub and tree leaves. Making leaf mould is a cold process that makes it different from composting. The decomposition is mostly done by fungi whereas composting relies on bacteria. I am collecting the leaves in biodegradable bags with a few holes punched in them, so let’s hope they last long enough for the leaves to rot down. After placing the leaves in the bag they will need a good watering to speed up the rotting process. I try not to collect them from the side of a road, as there will be a lot of pollutants such as oil and old crisp packets..

Due to the slow decaying nature of their lignin (cellulose) content, autumn leaves break down far more slowly than most other compost ingredients although you can still throw some in the compost bin. I will be cutting the grass soon too, this is the fastest way to get the leaves off the lawn and the mower shreds them, which helps the leaves to rot down faster,especially now that the grass is nice and wet.
The leaves I am cramming into the bags will take between one and two years to break down into rich humus with a smell reminiscent of ancient woodland. While not high in nutrient content, leaf mould is an excellent bulky and fibrous soil conditioner

TIP
If you have a big garden then a leaf bin might be an idea. All you need is some galvanised chicken wire and a few posts.


5 GOOD REASONS TO USE LEAF MOULD
It's clean and easy to handle
It's good for the soil
It cuts down on watering
It can be used on any soil
It can be used at any time of year


SO MANY USES FOR YOUR LEAVES

I’m putting the leaves into the bags and will just forget about them until next year. There are things you could do with the freshly fallen leaves though.

Newly fallen leaves
Winter cover for bare soil; handy, but may have to be removed in spring for sowing and planting. Mulch for informal paths.
Make into leafmould.

The leafmould has a multitude of uses:

'Young' leafmould 1 or 2 years old leafmould will be beginning to break up and should be easily crumbled in the hand.
Use it for mulching around shrubs, herbaceous, trees, vegetables.
Dig in as soil improver for sowing and planting, autumn top dressing for lawns and
winter cover for bare soil.

Well rotted leafmould

2 years old leafmould will be dark brown and crumbly material, with no real trace of original leaves visible.

Use as for ‘young’ leafmould above or as a seed sowing mix.

Use the leafmould on its own, or mixed with equal parts sharp sand and garden compost.

For really good potting compost, mix equal parts well-rotted leafmould, sharp sand, loam and garden compost.

PUMPKIN IDEAS

HALLOWEEN PUMPKINS

“You couldn’t just look after these two could you?” A friend of mine has just called in and is looking flustered. “ I have to go into Derry on short notice and I can’t take them with me.” Before I have time to answer, I’m babysitting. Well childminding actually, the two lads are both nearly ten.

“Well lads, what do you fancy doing?” I ask them, hoping that they will say they can look after themselves, which will leave me free to carry on my afternoon power nap. David, the eldest lad suggests the telly, which sounds fine to me. Walking across the sitting room, I turn the television on, but before I have time to change the channel, Jess chimes up.

“I don’t want to watch the TV. I’m bored, I want to do something else.” He runs out into the garage and appears a brief second cradling a large pumpkin in his arms. I had bought some pumpkins to decorate for Halloween, as well as to make some warming soup. “Can we cut this out?” He puffs as he heaves the pumpkin on to the table.

I had hoped that we would be decorating our own pumpkins this year. We had a bit of a mishap with our veggie patch though as some sheep, and later cows, got in through the fence and destroyed everything. They even pulled up the carrots. The pumpkins were not eaten; the cows trampled them on route to the curly kale and broccoli that were destined never to grace our plate this winter.

“All right.” I said “Have either of you done anything like this before?”

“Yes!” they both shout and go running to the cutlery drawer to pick out the sharpest knives they can find. “Hang on a minute!” I shout, desperately trying to slow things down a bit. “Now, we need to cut the top off first and then hollow out the innards.” I have adopted my best teacher voice. I cut off the top and then give Dylan and Jess spoons, which are a bit safer than the carving knifes they were just holding. They are having none of this and plunged their hands straight inside to pull out the seeds and pulpy flesh. “Ugh! It’s like witches guts.” They both shout as their hands went in again to pull some more out. I am bustling out to get some old newspaper.

“You can dry the seeds and string them into a necklace.” I say as I transfer the ‘guts’ from the table to the paper. “You could make one for your mum later.” This was ignored.

“How do you grow them so big?” Jess asks me as he splats the last piece of mush onto the chair. He thinks I grew it and I am not about to disappoint him by saying I bought it from a shop.

“Well,” I begin. “ You need good seed and good luck.” I say vaguely, then realise a bit more information is needed. “Well you need lots of manure, a big patch of ground, sunshine and you also need to keep the slugs and cows off of them.” Jess and David have lost interest in me and now have the knives. “Lets draw a scary face on the pumpkin first and then we’ll cut it out.” I am stalling for time again, anything to spare me the anxiety of seeing two under 10’s hacking the orange flesh of the vegetable to bits with knives. I draw the face as simply as I can in bold marker pen. “Here, cut those shapes out. They do and they make a good job, even though I am hovering, anxiously. The eyes are like diamonds and the mouth has that toothless grin that you would expect a ghoul to have at Halloween. “Here put this in.” I light a tea light candle and pass it to them. I keep hold of the matches. It looks good.

The lads wipe their hands on the curtains and look at their masterpiece. “I’m bored” David announces, “Have you got any good videos?” I put on Snow White in the hope that the witch will scare them silly and spend the next half hour cleaning up.

Maybe I will read a few ghost stories to them later to keep in the Halloween mood.

COMPETITION
Don’t forget to get your answers in for the competition to win three fabulous Dr. Hessayon gardening books. Simply tell me: What is your favourite season and why? And send it to me on info@gardening.ie or drop it into the Inishowen Independent office. The closing date is Friday of this week

FORGET THE CRUNCH-GROW YOUR LUNCH

I am enjoying a fabulous autumn sunset in a pretty English village, not far from the town of Grantham (famous for Margaret Thatcher and being voted the most boring town in England). The village, however is very pretty, boasting a picture postcard church and red-bricked cottages with sweetly scented roses growing around their doorways. I am out taking an evening stroll to one of the three immaculately tended allotment sites in the village to visit my old friend Stan.

We are sitting next to his wood burning stove in the makeshift shed cluttered from floor to ceiling in things that might come in useful one day. (I am not quite sure what use a pogo stick will be in the garden, but you never know). We are sitting on old threadbare armchairs, enjoying a bit of warmth as the heat goes out of the day. The subject is composting. “If you get your old straw or manure from somewhere that has been using chemicals, you could be asking for all sorts of problems.” Stan is a devoted organic vegetable grower and is very careful about what he puts into the soil. “If you are into organics, you need to check out your sources,” he tells me “I wouldn’t eat carrots that were grown with chemicals and I don’t want the chemicals in the soil of my allotment.”

Stan retired nearly twenty years ago because of ill health; he spent too long in the coalmines and the coal dust collected in his lungs. You wouldn’t guess now though. He started on the allotments soon after finishing work to get out into the fresh air and keep active. It has worked wonders for him -he is fitter than me.

“Do you think that there are any financial benefits to growing your own vegetables? I ask Stan. “The credit crunch has sparked loads of interest in growing your own. I wonder if you could put a price on it?”

I take a grimy cup of hot liquid from Stan who just poured it from a kettle on the stove. “If you put a price on it then it turns into economics.” Stan hands me a soil- covered biscuit and puts the kettle back on the plate, which keeps it boiling. “Let’s imagine that you would put a price on what I do here on the allotment. At the very least I will come here about one hour a day, that’s to grow and care for enough fruit and veg for the wife and I. That’s 365 hours a year, which is pretty manageable. Say I charge about €50 an hour.” I splutter at the thought of getting such a reward for my labour and my half eaten biscuit ends up on the floor.

“This is just it you see, you can’t put a price on these things. But that’s what I would charge. You would be looking at a cost of 15 and a half thousand a year. That’s not taking into consideration tools, seeds and feed. You could add a few hundred a year onto the amount.”

“Tomatoes are always really cheap in the shops when mine are ripe.” I add supporting his theory. “Mind you,” Stan says thoughtfully,” With the global market and discount shops, fruit and veg are cheap enough all year round really.” He turns to open the door of the shed. The steam from the kettle wafts out, and the musty smell of his new delivery of horse muck creeps in. “I grow my crops because I know what has gone into producing them. The taste is far superior to anything you would buy. I love gardening. It’s my life. It keeps me active and the social scene here at the allotments is great. There are about twenty-five of us and we help each other out when we can and share our surplus when we can’t get through it all.” Stan pauses to flick a drowning woodlouse out of his cup. “Did you know that some onions that you buy in the shops could be two years old?”

“I didn’t.” I say, not surprised. “There’s nothing tastier than a nice lump of cheese to go with a freshly dug onion, I used to take the odd one from allotments when I was a kid.” I confess.

“We grow extra on the allotments to allow for pests.” Stan continues giving me a disapproving look. “You can keep your costs down when you are growing your own. There doesn’t have to be a big cash outlay. All you need are some planks for raised beds and some good soil to put the seeds in. The secret is to start small, with just a few plants and not spend a lot of money. If you were really thrifty you could get the seeds from other growers, we swop a lot of seeds here, and young plants too. My carrots were grown from seed that I saved last year.” Stan handed me a freshly dug one from a bunch sitting in his rusty wheelbarrow. “Here taste this.” I wiped the soil off and bit through the silty deposits still on the flesh. It was delicious and went well with the biscuit.

“There are NO financial advantages to growing your own and feeding yourself. ” Stan says conclusively. “It can be a hard slog; bad weather such as drought and floods can destroy all of your hard work. All of the crops can be devastated by pests and disease.”

I am almost feeling sorry for Stan when there’s a knock on the shed door.

Hi Stan.” It’s Dan and Susan from the adjoining allotment. “We’ve got couple of bottles of last years gooseberry wine, fancy a taste? Without hesitation the dust is blown off four of Stan’s cleanest jam jars and are put out on the worktop. The cork is pulled, the wine poured and the ritual of tasting begins. Stan is right. You can’t put a price on this.