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What's up with the old curmudgeon now you may be thinking? Didn't get the Nice socks or Nintendo Wii he wanted? I had a great Christmas, a family affair where we sat around and enjoyed each others company, ate lots of all our favourite foods and gave each other gifts that we probably spent too much on and spent a lot of time thinking about and hunting down (that's because I'm a man - by contrast, my wife gathered hers). I think that these things are good and I commend them to the reader. It's perfectly normal human behaviour to have a large feast that huge amounts of effort have gone into, to save resources through the good times for it and then in a relatively short and intense period enjoy all of those things while surrounded with people that you like being with. I bet prehistoric humans when they'd killed a few extra mammoths, put the odd leg aside in a pickling jar, or pureed and preserved some tree ferns or Ginkgo leaves for the festival of "Grunt" or "Ug-grunt" or whatever it was they called it. One thing is certain though, whenever humans can, they plan for and have large extravagant celebrations, marked by consumption of food and resources, and anyone who tries to make you feel bad about that is missing the point. The yin to this yang is to do things for others as well - for charity if you like, I've had a standing order to the NSPCC for years. So while you're still feeling well rested, well fed and hopefully still retain some of that happy holiday glow, why not set up a regular payment to one of those causes you've always intended to help. Tell yourself you're putting away a metaphorical mammoth leg for others while the going is good see here.
I planted the absolute last of the spring daffodil / narcissi bulbs, a bit late, but they should be alright, and then set about some pruning of deciduous trees and shrubs now that I can see the structure of the branches with the leaves gone. This is a pretty good time to do some heavy-duty pruning, almost all trees and shrubs can be cut back hard now fairly safely. Just watch for two things:
Having accumulated quite a pile of woody material I then had a very satisfactory bonfire to get rid of it, in fact I'm just off for a few minutes to poke it around and re-build it from the fallen material around the edges. Right that's it, my gardening year has come to a close. Time to start the next one tomorrow.
Jobs / Tips
Whenever I mention this to people there's always one who says "do you have to be naked?" well it's not a requirement and I've never heard it mentioned, but if it makes you feel better and is not done in public view, I guess it can't hurt. Just make sure you have somewhere warm to go later, it can get cold on a January night.
If you do summon up the energy to go out and dig, leave the clods of earth as they fall off the spade, don't bother breaking them up, the frosts will do that for you. Frost isn't all bad.
If you can't plant them straight away, then "heel them in". This means cover the roots with soil in a temporary position so that they don't rot or dry out. Don't be tempted to leave them in the bag or other wrapping even for a short time. If you haven't space to put them in the soil, then "planting" them in sharp sand (a couple of quid from a builders merchant for a 40kg bag) will do nearly as well (dries out quicker than soil). You could even do this in a bucket or other container as long as there are drainage holes in the bottom so the roots don't sit in water. Why bother? Why not wait until it's a bit warmer and more pleasant and plant out of containers?
We're in the middle of the dormant season now, but already thinking of the growing season to come. I often think how lucky we are to have such pronounced seasonal changes, it all helps to keep us fresh as well the garden. Back again on the 1st of February
Archive - selected parts of previous year's newsletters from this month
December is probably the month where I do the least in the garden and spend the least amount of time thinking about it too. The days are at their shortest for one thing so I just don't see much of it, there's Christmas to think about - if not actually do much about until fairly late on and things in general are slowing down and coming to a halt - apart from my maverick Delphinium that is.
There were, I noted with further satisfaction some nice healthy, tight looking buds on the plum tree, preparing to burst forth with beautiful pink petals in a few months time. The first signs of spring flowering bulbs are starting to appear in various places, particularly when I brushed aside some of the remaining autumn leaves that had been blown into sheltered corners. Then there were a few reminders of what I hadn't done, a limp and barely alive Osteospernum that grew very large and vigorously last summer. It was too big to dig up and bring under shelter, and I had no space for it. The intention was to cut most of it back and then cover it with a large mound of compost to try and protect it from the frosts and see if it would grow again next year. I think of these things in good time and then it just falls out of my brain at some point. A bit like Christmas really. Some time in late October I have some Christmassy thoughts and congratulate myself at being well prepared this year and that I won't be caught out again. So successful is this self-congratulation that it carries me all the way through until about the 20th of December and I realise I still haven't done anything. It might not actually be too late for the Osteospernum and in fact as I'm typing this it's sitting there casting admonishing glances at me every time I look out of the window. Right next to it are some forget-me-nots which I love. All have to do about them is pull them up when they start get too vigorous and widespread for their own good, why can't all plants be like that? My view of the winter garden is that it should be just that - a view - out of a window. I quite like taking the dog for a walk even when it's grey and damp especially when the crows are flying around bare tree tops in a sort of Bruegelesque way. They remind me that there is still life around ready to get going again. But as for winter gardening, it's a necessity rather than a pleasure, the saving grace is that it's a task that tends to pay far greater dividends later in the year, digging over heavy soil, planting large trees and shrubs for instance.
Many people have jobs where they are under pressure to perform and meet "mutually agreed targets" i.e. the boss says implicitly "you are expected to do this" and if you don't agree, you will be asked to "question your future direction". The only goals that I have ever had "ownership" of have been ones that have no input at all from anyone else. An analogy that springs to mind is "Here is a bucket of manure, we'd like you to "own" it, would you like to choose that the bucket be red, blue or another colour?". Well actually I choose that I don't have it at all, (OK, I wouldn't, I'd have it and use it as a mulch, but you know what I mean). Gardening reminds us that we can plan, we can do our best, we can even try to do the impossible, but ultimately we are working with nature and we are certainly not in control. Gardening reminds us most of all that we are human, not only are we working with nature, we are part of it. It comforts us that it's OK to be human and ourselves, not dancing to some-one else's tune that we can't even whistle. We have our disasters in the garden, but for every unexpected disaster, there's an unexpected success - "nature abhors a vacuum" and there will always be something that will succeed. The only secret I suppose is not to give up - as long as you keep trying, something will come of it, nothing and no-one is a total failure, there's always something somewhere that will work for you.
Not that it makes the blindest bit of difference to our gardens, the seasons come and go, the plants grow, set seed and die. Worms drag down dead leaves to feed on the bacteria and fungi that feed on the leaves. Birds that feed on the worms live in the trees that are nourished by the activities of the worms. The changes in where we draw the lines of time are as important to nature as are the puny ornamental competitors that we pit against the bindweed, dandelions and native oaks. Despite all of the talk in recent years about global warming, we seem to having more of a traditional winter in temperature terms at least if not in snowfall. The frost finally melted yesterday at the shady bottom of my garden for the first time in a week. It got down to minus 7 centigrade one night (information thanks to my new plaything, an electronic inside - outside min / max thermometer, an excellent boys toy), which is quite impressive for Cambridgeshire. It's good for the garden all of this cold weather;
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I hope you had a good Christmas and New Year celebration. There seems to be
a movement every year of naysayers who try to stop people celebrating Christmas
properly, or at least make them feel bad about it. Well if they want to give
each other token gifts and sing carols while covered in sack-cloth and ashes
with the occasional beating from a switch made of birch twigs (organically grown
and gathered in a sustainable manner from old growth forest of course) then
that's up to them and it's fine by me. Just as long as they don't parade their
holier than thou attitude in front of me and expect me to join in. Have you ever
had a gift from one of these people? probably not, Was it worth having if you
did? almost definitely not. If they're young, they're probably poor and so are
marginally excused (but I bet they get their parents to unsustainably do all
sorts of stuff for them) and if they're not so young, they'll live in a house
that's far bigger than they need and readily burn up the air miles to go on
eco-friendly holidays (no such thing, apart from camping in the back garden).
