Omissions, Amendments

Oh bother.  She’s beaten me to it – and gone and put up that nasty pic of me in the St James’ allotment revealing expanses of pale, wintery flesh to all and sundry, including HRH’s guards watching us on CCTV.  (We’re done for by the way – I’m certain they have footage of us pinching those little red currants.)

Rebekahn, however, has been economical with the truth.  She may have hinted at her sore feet but what she didn’t reveal was that she made me traipse around Kew with her in search of a most elusive compost heap. This probably reflects badly on our map reading abilities but that heap wasn’t ever where we thought it would be. In fact at times it felt a little like looking for the King of Siam.  Up and down we trudged, until its pleasant, earthy scent  caused our noses to twitch and lead us to the site.  And my oh my, Brer Rabbit, what an enormous compost heap the good folk at Kew have been building over the past 250 years.  I expect it’s probably the size of a hockey field (metres, hectares and acres  mean little to me) and at least a storey or two high.  There is even a special viewing deck constructed from some rare tropical hardwood imported illegally and confiscated by Customs and Excise or some such.

What we didn’t get round to seeing were some royal paintings from Jodpuhr in an exhibition, Garden and Cosmos, currently hosted by the British Museum.  Ah well.   If the International Woman of Mystery’s plans come through there’ll be plenty of opportunity for that.

Back from the North

Well, I’m back from my whirlwind trip to London, and I must say, I am humbled. All those snotty things I said about London being grey and wet and grizzly and grim? I take them back. Because in the summertime, it’s just lovely. Green and mild and as sparkly as a big city can be.

And this time round, Vivh was around, to show me the delights of Kew, St James’s Park and her Brixton, which is kind of like my Brixton, but with more interesting fishy things. Thanks, Vivh. It really was a few very happy days.

Highlights:
A day on Hampstead Heath; lying in the sun, hidden by the tall grass and meadow flowers, drinking warm beer and eating satsumas from South Africa. We call them naartjies here.

An amble through St James’s Park including a visit to the allotment there. Where, I will confess, I stole a handful of berries. Sorry. Did they belong to the Queen? Then doubly sorry, in case she decides to hang me/behead me. But I swear, it was Vivh’s idea. In fact does anyone know what happens to the veggies that come out of the allotment at St James’s? Because if they go into the compost heap there, I will cry. I’ve never seen such beautiful artichokes.
The day that Vivh and I spent at Kew. Yes, I whinged about how sore my feet were. But it was well worth it. What a wonderful place. People have told me that it’s expensive and hard to get to blah blah blah, but I don’t think they actually realise what an amazing resource it is. I was truly impressed, and didn’t even do the scary GBP to ZAR conversions in my head. Although, we did eat the most expensive burgers on the planet there.

The walk through Chiswick to get to Kew. What a weird place.

The seeds I found at the cute little organic shop new the Kew station. Yay! Finally, after years of pining, I have some Franchi Seeds, and I’m jumping up and down for spring to come, so that I can get my carbuncled tomatoes, curly kale, purple beans and lovely, sexy aubergines into the ground.

It was a good trip. I had fun. I’m hoping that it will bear some figurative fruit, and I’ll find myself in London on a slightly more permanent basis in the coming year. What’s that? You want details? Well, nothing is set in stone yet so I’m sorry but you’ll have to wait a bit. That’s what we international women of mystery do, you see – we  are mysterious.In the meantime though, here are some pics to prove that this all really did happen….

Vivh shooting veggies in St James's allotment

A basin of basil in the allotment

The finest artichoke in the land...

Oh the Irony…

Rainy Joburg, pic by Jeppestown on Flickr, CC BY SA 2.0

It’s been raining for three days in Joburg. Which, if you’ve ever been here in June, you will know is just not what’s supposed to happen. Our winters are supposed to be dry, windy and cold, with a clear sky and weak, watery sun. Joburg is famous for its winter sunlight. So we’re all kind of stunned by the fact that, right now, it’s grey, cold, overcast and raining. Not hard (which is the usual kind of rain we get – torrential downpours with impressive MGM-style thunder and lightning accompaniments) but the rain all gardeners dream of – a gentle, soaking drizzle that goes on all day.

Of course, it’s great. I yank on my wellies a couple of times a day and go out there to check on things and look at my beans (growing like crazy) and make sure the worms don’t drown, and look about and feel very happy. In part, I was feeling happy because in 24 hours or so, I lave for London for a week. It’s kind of a work trip, but know of not, and I was really looking forward to the fact that I would be winging my way north, like a dyslexic swallow, for some sunshine. But I had a look on the BBC Weather site just now and it told me that the forecast for Saturday, when I arrive is: Heavy Rain, 21 degrees. I feel like I’ve been robbed…

But I am looking forward to my trip. I’m going to stock up on seeds, like the committed smuggler that I am. I’ve also packed some seeds from here, so if you’re in the market for some Namaqualand Daisies, let me know, and we can make a plan. Vivh and I have discussed the possibility of a trip to Kew, and I can’t wait to go back to Kensington Gardens and see what it looks like when it’s not miserable. Exciting times, I tell you.

The Ultimate Seed Collection

If you’ve visited www.ted.com before , you’ll know it’s a fascinating repository of talks by some of the world’s leading thinkers.  Britain has got talent, but you’ll find it at TED, not in the reality slot on the box.  Sorry, Susan Boyle.

Today I discovered a talk by Jonathan Drori about the Millenium Seed Bank.  When you have a moment take a listen and learn why three billion seeds from around the world have been gathered for safekeeping.  Then click on the next talk and the next and the next and the next and before you know it, it will be time for supper.

You can find out more on the MSB, which is attached to Kew, here.

Beans, beans, beans and worms

I know I’ve been a bit silent of late, and apologies for that. But the good news is that I actually have real, live gardening news for you. Really. I can’t hardly believe it myself.

First off, I have good news on the bean front. My broad bean seedlings have come up big and strong and prospects for broad bean and artichoke risotto come springtime are good. I’m very proud of these guys – I bought them on a trip to the UK in November last year and smuggled the seeds back, and have been keeping them safe ever since. I may have to take some precautionary measures if it gets much colder here, but we’re usually spared the worst of the winter frosts up here on the Brixton hill, so they should be okay. The plan for this week is to stake them, ahead of our very windy winter. See? Aren’t they handsome?

I also have a confession to make. I’ve been holding out on you. I’m sorry, I just didn’t want to speak too soon, in case I jinxed it, and spoiled this special thing I had…

See, I’m no longer alone in my garden. I am proud mother to a whole worm farm full of worms. Well fed, happy, well read (I only give them the Business Day and the Mail and Guardian) worms. Who are reproducing at a rate of knots.
I started out with 250g of them when my dear dear family gave me this sexy duplex (triplex?) of a worm farm for my birthday back in April, but now they’re all over the place, I’d reckon I’ve got at least 500g, if not close on a kilo of them by now. And I love them. So does the cat, as you can see.  (As an indicator of how much I love them: they no longer live on top of the dustbin under the apricot tree. In fact, I built a really cool platform out of bricks and planks for them just a few weeks ago…)

It’s hard to take photos of them – they are very shy and burrow away from the glaring light of celebrity. But I think I managed to catch a couple of them as their tails disappeared into the compost. The whole set-up isn’t quite established enough to provide serious vermicompost for the garden yet, but we’re getting there. And it makes me really happy because I know longer have to throw my veggie waste out.  So that takes care of the karma/green guilt. Not to mention the fact that I love it when people come round and I say “Do you wanna see my worms?” Depending on how they respond, I can usually judge if they will be the kind of people I’m happy to have tea with, or if they are terrible bores.

But the best thing, the very best think about having worms is that it makes me feel a little bit closer to my all-time-super-hero science pin-up deluxe, Charles Darwin. He liked worms. And that’s enough for me.

The Light Fantastic

Just  when I was beginning to feel cheated of my annual sun quota, the old man put in a guest appearance this weekend. This afternoon was muggy to boot – it’s raining now – and earlier, if I closed my eyes and used my imagination, ok, rather a lot of imagination, I could have been in Durban or Mumbai.

Yesterday saw a visit to Brockwell Park, which is a remarkable green space sandwiched between what seems like hundreds of council estates in Brixton and Tulse Hill.  I have been meaning to write about it for ages because there appears to be rather a lot going on there. On several occasions I’ve peered over a padlocked entrance to a ramshackle collection of plots and polythene tunnels signposted ‘Community Greenhouses’ but have never attracted anyone’s attention, which I suppose I could take as a backhanded compliment.  When I make it to one of their volunteer days I’ll tell you all about it.

Instead I made do with the charming walled garden which I think is being restored. Unlike a lot of municipal gardens, this one is a delightful, somewhat disorganised tangle of spring and summer flowers, and yesterday it made my heart sing. The light was perfect; the air was still and warm; I didn’t want to waste a moment of it.   I was so moved by it all  that I became quite sniffly- even more so when on my way home I discovered a family of Canada geese at a pond’s edge. There were  two parents – obviously – and three fluffy yellow goslings pulling at some reeds.  A lurcher sauntered towards them when I moved on; I’m sure I discerned a gleam in its eye and a lick of its lips as we passed each other.

After all that I have no picture to show you, which is a shame.

We’d Like To Thank All The Worms

It’s a telling sign of the times: Vivh is all-consumed by Chelsea, and rubbing shoulders with all the famous gardening types. I have retreated into a winter fug, taking  only the most occasional trip into the garden and scuttling back in after about 5 minutes.

And as a result, we both seem to have missed the most exciting news: We were nominated for, and are runners up in the most prestigious gardening awards on the web. For reals. The Fork’N Monkey awards, surely the most venerable gongs for those who like to grub about, were announced this week, and Brixton Broads was nominated in the All Around the World category for non-UK, non-US blogs. We didn’t win (congrats to Yolanda at Bliss) but we’re runners up. And that’s pretty rad. And we’re very proud to be rubbing shoulders with such famous garden grubbers.

We’re convinced that if there was a special award for developing nations, like a garden blog version of the Millennium Development Goals, we’d have it in the bag (along with some chickens, madumbies, spinach and the odd renegade Health Minister).

So many thanks to all who voted for us in the complicated secret ballots. In South Africa it takes at least a week for us to get election results out, and we don’t always agree on said results, so we’re very chuffed that this was all so democratic, simple and easy and we didn’t have to make any impossible to fulfill promises to voters.

Oh! Oh! Oh!

It is either very late at night or very early in the morning, and I really should be sound asleep after a long day at Chelsea, but I have just found this which I simply had to put up before it slipped into murky internet noodle soup.  It is about how some plants from the flower show will be used in a public garden that is to be built in recognition of the work of Desmond Tutu, who is my all-time super-hero.

I shall continue to slog it out at Chelsea tomorrow (pollen and the blister on my foot notwithstanding) but so far can report that Alan Titchmarsh, Joanna Lumley and even Stephen Fry are much taller and slimmer in real life than one would expect.  It was also delightful to meet James Alexander Sinclair of Blogging from Blackpitts and Jane Perrone from Horticultural, although she probably spends more time looking after the gardening blog at the Guardian now. They’re lovely people with wonderful blogs that you really must go and read right now.

And so, at last, to bed.  More on Chelsea tomorrow.

New Media

Years ago, in about 1994, I recall surfing the internet with my sister in a stuffy computer lab somewhere in the bowels of the University of Cape Town. The internet connection was pitifully slow and the content back then seemed woefully dull and academic, although perhaps that had more to do with the locale than what was actually on the net .  Still, it was a curious, wondrous thing, this new internet.

Now days of course, we do everything from banking to dating online – and we read our newspapers and magazines online, too. This last point has become an area of concern for media suits, who are struggling to cut a lucrative path through this new technological maze.  This much I know: when I worked on a big homes and gardens magazine in South Africa, the paper and printing costs were by far the biggest outlay and were increasing at a rate of knots. At the time the owners of that magazine were reluctant to put too much of the magazine on the web or even spend much on a website because, if I recall correctly, they said they were a printing company, not an internet company.

I shall leave you to develop your own opinions about that, but I will point  you to a very pretty newish gardening blog I found recently.  Although it calls itself a blog, in my mind it’s much more of an online magazine or e-zine than the  random collection of thoughts and musings that is often a feature of blogs in a traditional sense.

It’s called Fennel and Fern and like most garden glossies has beautiful layout and pictures.   In a similar vein, Garden Rant across the pond in the US is also worth a look.

Book Review – Jane’s Delicious Garden by Jane Griffiths

Gardening books are always a bit of a bind for me. I tend to break them down into two groups – the Beautiful and the Dutiful.

Beautiful books are printed on sexy, glossy paper, have hardcovers and many many pages of full-colour, gorgeous photos and illustrations. The gardens in them are cleverly laid out and lush and colourful and make me green with envy. They’re a reference source and an inspiration, and I’m just as happy to browse through them as I am to actually use them. The downside to the Beautiful books is that, a good 80% of the time, they’re published and printed overseas, and are, as such, completely inappropriate for my Johannesburg garden. So my browsing is tinged with sadness – I know that few of the shrubs, veggies and flowers I see in these books will ever grow for me, even if I spend hours trying to reverse seasons and rainfall and climatic zones in my head.

The Dutiful books are the flipside. They’re printed on bad paper that doesn’t show up the photos nicely, and are full of scientific names and climate regions and nothing inspiring at all, unless you really do get a kick out of soil Ph levels. Weirdly, a lot of these books seem to be local, as of there is some kind of martyr-glory to be had in publishing ugly books about indigenous plants. I don’t get it. People like pretty, so why not give it to them?

But this post isn’t supposed to be a rant about dull local publishing. In fact it’s a digital dance of joy, because earlier this month, I found the most beautiful, gorgeously photographed, intelligently written, sweetly illustrated book about growing veggies and herbs. And the lady who wrote lives doesn’t just live in South Africa. Oh no, even better, she lives in Joburg. My hood.  My khasi*. Yay!

I’ve spent the last few weeks paging through it, and I feel completely justified in saying that this book is going to be invaluable. It’s full of useful information about companion planting and no-spray gogga** treatments. It’s got really handy month-by-month breakdowns of what to plant and where and when. It’s got info for the beginner and the experienced gardener, and it’s all well-written. And I’ll tell you something else: Jane Griffiths is one convincing lady… She says potatoes are easy, and take up less space and effort that people think, and now, I’m itching to plant potatoes.Need I say that her garden is beautiful, and I have spent many hours lusting after her picturesquely rusted garden furniture and tomato-eating cat.

Jane does quite a bit of writing, as well as consulting and stuff, and you can find her here. And you really should consider getting this book. It’s just the thing to while away the winter months (okay, yes, there are only about 2 of them, but they’re still pretty cold and grim) while you dream of beautiful, fruitful summer gardens.

*Khasi – tsotsitaal for neighborhood, stomping ground.
**Gogga – anything crawly

In the interests of transparency, I will just say that I bought this book with my own money, and nobody told me what to say about it.