Freezing north easterlies and driving rain have put paid to gardening for a few days. I’m just thankful to have missed out on the cloudbursts of hail and snow that have wrecked havoc elsewhere in the country.
At Bertie’s Cottage there are twice as many salad beds as last year, at least ten varieties I grew from seed, plus a winter collection from www.delfland.co.uk. The recently planted plugs are hardy, but growing slowly in the cold, so a bit of protection should help bring them on. However, rows of well-grown butterheads, planned for salads up till Christmas, would hate to be battered by ice. Forewarned by www.metcheck.com, I set off for the industrial estate to equip myself with the materials to erect fleece tunnels.
Iron-grey clouds emptied frequent downpours and the first hail for months made me shiver with its unerring aim inside my collar. A bright spell followed, and with urgency quickening, I begged for help. Iona, in a teenage flop, was not to be persuaded (not even by money), but Lucy and Jim proved stalwart, and within two hours of hammering and wrapping ourselves and the cat in reams of fleece, four sturdy tunnels were erected.
I was torn with indecision over a bed of undersized leeks (planted too late). They won’t grow if it’s cold, but rust threatens if ventilation is not adequate. A horsetail wash (BD508) seventeen days ago had kept them immaculate, but I knew a fleece tunnel would increase the risk of an outbreak. So we covered them, and opened up through the day yesterday, but this morning, after only two nights under fleece, bright orange stains marred two dozen or so blue-green leaves. I cut out the affected tissue, will leave the bed uncovered, and spray again with horsetail (BD508) on the first sunny morning.
At Bertie’s Cottage there are twice as many salad beds as last year, at least ten varieties I grew from seed, plus a winter collection from www.delfland.co.uk. The recently planted plugs are hardy, but growing slowly in the cold, so a bit of protection should help bring them on. However, rows of well-grown butterheads, planned for salads up till Christmas, would hate to be battered by ice. Forewarned by www.metcheck.com, I set off for the industrial estate to equip myself with the materials to erect fleece tunnels.
Iron-grey clouds emptied frequent downpours and the first hail for months made me shiver with its unerring aim inside my collar. A bright spell followed, and with urgency quickening, I begged for help. Iona, in a teenage flop, was not to be persuaded (not even by money), but Lucy and Jim proved stalwart, and within two hours of hammering and wrapping ourselves and the cat in reams of fleece, four sturdy tunnels were erected.
I was torn with indecision over a bed of undersized leeks (planted too late). They won’t grow if it’s cold, but rust threatens if ventilation is not adequate. A horsetail wash (BD508) seventeen days ago had kept them immaculate, but I knew a fleece tunnel would increase the risk of an outbreak. So we covered them, and opened up through the day yesterday, but this morning, after only two nights under fleece, bright orange stains marred two dozen or so blue-green leaves. I cut out the affected tissue, will leave the bed uncovered, and spray again with horsetail (BD508) on the first sunny morning.
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