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.

COMPETITION

BUSY DOING NOTHING

The barometer on the hall wall has moved from Change to Rain and its feeling cold, so I am not taking any chances of starting an outside job. There’s plenty to do though, especially leaf clearing, but I think I will head out and visit another gardener and we can talk about jobs to do instead of doing them.

I pick up the phone and call Jacqueline from Willow Hill Nursery in Fahan. “Hi Jacqueline.” I am shouting. I do that quite often on the phone, I think people can hear me better. “Would you be up for a visit today?”

“Hi Ian. You’ll have a job on catching me in,” replies Jacqueline. “I am in and out at the moment, I have a lot of people to see about landscaping work and I am very busy working in houses that are up for sale. Developers are keen to get their homes sold and realise that a well-planted garden and indoor plants could make the difference between a sale and the customer walking away.”

“Yeah” I reply conversationally. “I was reading yesterday that estate agents are giving away Smart cars with their houses to entice sales. But making the garden look good is a far better way to help sales” the confirmed gardener in me is coming out.

“What else are you up to in the garden centre?” I ask. Jacqueline has a lot on. “We are really busy,” she bubbles. “There is a lot of work to on, and we have started getting young shrubs ready for next year. We are also setting up a new tunnel especially for growing bedding plants as well. We are also busy getting in the bare rooted trees.” She continues. “We are stocking hawthorn, beech and hornbeam, which are ideal for the coast. A lot of farmers buy them in bulk as part of the REPS scheme, but we do sell small quantities too. They will be ready to plant at the end of the month.”

This is interesting. “What’s the best way to plant them?” I ask.

Jacqueline continues. “The REPS recommendation is to plant the whips into the ground and cut them down to 6 inches, then push the black polythene over them. I think it will be a better idea to put the polythene in place first and then push the whips through the polythene after making a hole in the soil and plastic with a crowbar. This will reduce the risk of the buds being damaged. Whichever way it’s done, the polythene is vital for large areas as the weeds would be a real problem.” Jacqueline continues. “If you were planning a hedge in the garden you would work on the soil to improve it before planting but in a field it’s a different matter.” She advises. “Now is still a good time for planning any hedge though, Escallonia, fuchsia and griselinia will all do well”

She pauses and then adds thoughtfully. “If the ground isn’t too wet you can work in the garden for most of the year.”

“It’s great to hear that the horticultural industry is still buoyant in these unsettled financial times. Thanks for that Jacqueline” I say. I can hear that she is in the middle of a downpour and obviously getting wet through, so I let her go. She is a busy woman.


WIN THREE FABULOUS GARDENING BOOKS

There is no better way to while away a wet afternoon than look through a good gardening book. I have used the Dr Hessayon books for years now and find that they answer most gardening questions. Dr Hessayon’s best-selling guides have had a big influence on gardening over the past 50 years, I’ve still got some from the mid 1960’s and they are still relevant today, well apart from using DDT to get rid of blackspot.

I have three brand new editions to give away as a fabulous prize this week.

Dr Hessayon: The Bedside Book of the Garden.
Dr Hessayon: The Vegetable and Herb expert.
Dr Hessayon: The Easycare Gardening Expert.

All three of these books will be an interesting read for the lucky winner. The Bedside Book because that’s the best way to garden when it’s cold and wet, the Easycare Book is great for reluctant gardeners who would like to learn some labour saving short cuts, and the Vegetable and Herb Book because in today’s credit crunch climate, growing your own is the way to go.

To win these three fabulous books valued at over €40, all you have to do is to answer this simple question.

What is your favourite season and why?

E-mail your thoughts to me with your name and contact number, or drop it into the Inishowen Independent office in Buncrana. The closing date is in two weeks so there’s no excuse to not enter. It’s that simple. Closing date- 22nd Oct 08

Send your entries to: info@gardening.ie - or the Inishowen Independent office.

DIARMUID GAVIN-WHERE ARE YOU?

Photo: Julia Zimmerman from DG Design tackles the probing questions from the audience in Carndonagh

“Thank you for your patience.” A soft voice came over the tannoy system in the hall of Carndonagh Community College.

I am happy to wait as Diarmuid Gavin is due to entertain the 100 or so people that have turned up tonight to see the plans for the new Barrack Hill Park project. I picked my seat carefully tonight as I want to get a good view, so it’s four rows up from the front for me. Not too close though, just in case Diarmuid picks on a member of the audience. I am wary of this from when I was a young lad at a Christmas pantomime starring Mike and Bernie Winters. If you can’t remember who they are, think of Morecambe and Wise without the humour. I was singled out in front of the vast audience and asked to go on stage to have cotton wool snowballs filled with boiled sweets thrown at me. Bernie Winters gleefully said to the laughing crowd “Oooh, she’s so excited isn’t she!” Why the floor didn’t swallow me up I’ll never know, but that was the price us boys paid in the 70’s if we wore our hair long.

There was a tap, tap on the microphone from the stage at the Áras, then the soft voice continued. “Apologies for the late start. We will be with you in a minute when the technical problem is sorted”

I remember the first time I was here to see Diarmuid. I was taking a few photos and Aideen Doherty, (the Community and Enterprise Development Officer) came up to me and said, “Hi Ian, I am sure you would like to interview Diarmuid. He has a minute before he goes on…. Diarmuid meet Ian, he is here to interview you”. I didn’t have the time or courage to say that I wasn’t there for an interview so after shaking Diarmuid’s hand I proceeded to come out with the biggest load of rubbish that you have ever heard. “Where are you staying? How long have you been interested in gardening? And the rest, until thankfully he could escape onto the stage and I could slink away kicking myself for not being prepared. For that reason I am keeping a low profile tonight.

“Hi and welcome, I am Julia Zimmerman from Diarmuid Gavin Design, I will be talking to you tonight about the exciting new development that we have put together for Carndonagh”. She begins “ I am afraid that Diarmuid cannot be with us tonight as he is ill, so I will go through the plans”

What……Diarmuid can’t be with us, he didn’t turn up the last time either…..No. I had even phoned up the caretaker of the school this afternoon to make sure he was going to be here.

There is a deep sigh from the audience and I am getting the feeling that most of us are disappointed by his absence. I feel let down and although it shouldn’t make a difference I feel that Diarmuid is the face of the project and he and he alone is the one that should sell the idea to us. I know it shouldn’t make any difference who does the presentation, after all Diarmuid won’t be on hand to do the maintenance after it’s finished. I want to be entertained and although Julia is a professional landscape architect and knows the site plan off by heart, she isn’t a famous person off the telly. I can’t listen anymore as she points to a dark photocopy of the site to show us where the cycle track, maze and ball areas are located.

“Is everyone happy?” Julia is asking. It’s the end of the presentation and I haven’t heard a word of what is being said, I am a celebrity casualty, who has missed his idol. Julia is scanning the room with a look of anticipation. There is a silence, which is lasting an eternity. It doesn’t look like anyone is happy.

“Why are the water features not included?” Someone is breaking the silence with a question. “It’s the maintenance costs mainly.” Says Julia.

“When will it be ready?” Asks someone else “How will we stop drinkers?” “Where’s the labyrinth?” The crowd are greedy for answers and it looks like Julia is doing her best to placate them.

“Who’s looking after the maintenance?” A voice is asking on the back row. Julia has stopped in her tracks. “I’ll pass you over to Aideen,” she says. “She will be able to answer that question.” The microphone is quickly passed over, with obvious relief.

“It’s the Council’s responsibility overall but residents will play a big part, especially over in the allotment area.” Aideen is well prepared but I am still not listening. I am amazed at the power a TV celebrity has on me. I am questioning why I am interested in the Barrack Hill project. Without the celebrity endorsement it is feeling like just any another design by a Landscape Design company. Let’s hope it is more than that.

I am questioning whether I should hang around or make a discreet exit (I should have sat at the back). Councillor Bernard McGuinness makes it easy for me.

“Thank you,” he says. “That’s it, it’s all over. ” I am not hesitating. I’m away……

Let’s hope Diarmuid makes a full recovery and is with us next time……….