I’ve just resurfaced from the all-consuming experience of creating a garden
for the Chelsea Flower Show and all the hoo-ha that surrounds it. Reluctant
– as many designers are – to watch all my work being dismantled, I decamped
to our old stone farmhouse in west Oxfordshire with my youngest daughters
and my mother during the final day of the show. It had been three long weeks
since my last visit, and the changes that greeted me were astonishing.
If you remember, back in April, I outlined my plans to breathe new life into
the garden, which, because of the pressures of work and family, I had
largely neglected since we bought the place six years ago. One of the first
challenges I faced was cajoling my son Joe, 16, and my eldest daughter
Lauren’s long-term boyfriend, Chester, 21, into helping to build an
ambitious series of raised beds for a new kitchen garden. Would I be able to
persuade them to do their bit?
I am happy, if not a little surprised, to report that, by the end of that
month, an impressive block of 10 raised beds – each measuring a generous
20ft by 5ft – was ready for sowing and planting. I like to think that offers
of copious quantities of cash and hearty lunches were not the only things
that galvanised the workforce.
Keen to make the long-promised kitchen garden a reality, my husband sensed an
opportunity to captain the ship. He measured the site and marked it out
using stakes and string, with meticulous attention to detail; rarely have
mere raised beds been so perfectly positioned. He then showed the younger
members of the team how to build the first bed and anchor it to the ground,
before leaving them to get on with it. Chester and Joe duly took over and
did an admirable job, methodically working their way along the site until
the timber frames were all in place.
The ground had already been rota-vated, so it was then simply a matter of
filling the frames with topsoil. Joe and Chester shovelled while I
wheelbarrowed and raked the soil. It was a mammoth task. Back and forth we
went – my youngest daughters, Emma, 4, and Olivia, 2, “helping” with their
toy wheelbarrow – but the capacious beds seemed to eat up the topsoil. It
took more than 20 one-cubic-metre bags of blended loam to fill them.
It did get done, though.
Strong, simple, sturdy and functional, I think the beds are beautiful. They
are also enormous: Chester asked whether we were planning to feed the whole
of Oxfordshire. But I have a feeling that vegetable gardens, like
greenhouses, are never as big as you need – and we are a large family. Sure
enough, it did not take long to fill the beds completely with a wide range
of direct-sown seeds, seedlings raised in the greenhouse and hardened off in
cold frames, bought-in young plants, onion sets and prechitted ‘Charlotte’
seed potatoes.
Although the new kitchen garden had, of necessity, played second fiddle to
preparations for Chelsea, spring is also the busiest time of year in the
greenhouse, and I had continued to sow a steady stream of seed and prick out
the seedlings throughout late April and May. Indeed, on more than one
occasion, my sanity was saved by being able to pop outside between e-mails
and phone calls related to the show. Another favourite diversionary tactic
was making long wish lists of recommended varieties and planning what crops
would go into which beds. I divided the vegetables into legumes, brassicas,
roots and so on, planning the future crop rotation (it helps prevent
disease) with the precision of a military campaign.
While Joe continued to barrow topsoil into the last beds, I was already sowing
rows of seed into the first. Using string to keep them straight, I made
narrow drills with the edge of a hoe and sowed carrots, radishes and
beetroot as thinly as I could along each one, before flicking the soil back
over each row and tamping it down with the flat of my hand. I then watered
with a can fitted with a rose to prevent the seed from being washed away
(another option is to water the drill prior to sowing).
Some seeds, such as pumpkins and courgettes, benefit from additional warmth to
encourage germination or ensure an earlier crop. I had already started many
off in trays or modules in the greenhouse, occasionally with extra heat
provided by a propagator. Sowing seed is the most magical and addictive
process: once you’ve experienced for yourself the sense of achievement that
comes from watching the first leaves appearing from the dry capsules, you,
too, will be hooked. The seeds themselves are fascinating, tactile and often
surprisingly beautiful, whether they be smooth, pebble-like beans, flattened
pumpkin seeds, which are pushed edgeways into pots of compost to stop them
rotting, or the finest dusting of carrot seed.
By way of experimentation, I also decided to try a selection of small
vegetable starter plants, which arrived by mail order – although you will
also find a selection at all good garden centres. These were either potted
up and grown on in the greenhouse for a couple of weeks prior to planting
out or put directly into the raised beds as soon as they arrived. My
strawberries also arrived by post. I selected two varieties: the
main-cropping ‘Marshmallow’ and the later-fruiting ‘Florence’. They looked a
bit bedraggled but quickly perked up and put on new growth once planted into
the raised bed, which I had covered in black weed-suppressing membrane,
cutting crosses through which each strawberry was planted into the soil
beneath.
At the far side of the strawberry bed, I planted a lone gooseberry. Towards
the end of the year, I plan to put up fruit cages and plant bare-root
raspberries and other soft fruit, so expect a progress report then. I will
also have to wait to start off my asparagus bed – late March is the
recommended time to plant the crowns – so I’ve decided to use the space to
grow sweet peas this year, pushing three willow obelisks into the soil and
planting six juvenile plants at the base of each.
Worried that during my three-week absence, everything would grind to a halt or
die from lack of watering, I made inquiries at the local garden centre for
someone to help. Darren now comes in for a couple of hours, twice a week.
Despite his youth, he’s a dedicated, old-fashioned sort of gardener, who
will pop in briefly between longer visits if he thinks something needs
attention. Best of all, he understands how attached I am to the garden, and
is happy to work alongside me when I’m around. He also happens to be
particularly keen on growing veg, and knows the tricks of the trade – such
as interplanting rows of carrots with onions, to deter carrot fly – and is a
whizz at constructing compost bins from wooden pallets.
Three years ago, I was barely interested in growing vegetables. In common with
many gardeners, however, I have now seen the light and am becoming
evangelical about my new addiction. During Chelsea, my mind often drifted to
my fledgling kitchen garden; I wondered if the carrots needed thinning, when
the courgettes should be planted out and whether I could squeeze two pumpkin
plants between the sweet peas, or just one. A Chelsea medal is wonderful – a
copy of the medal card is proudly displayed in the tool shed – but watching
my youngest children pull the first radishes from the ground and whoop with
joy is absolutely priceless.
SUPPLIERS
Raised beds: we constructed our own beds from treated timber, but also used
one ready-made kit, which takes much of the guesswork out of the process.
Harrod Horticultural (0845 402 5300, www.harrodhorticultural.com)
supplies excellent kits, offering a range of flexible permutations. Topsoil:
you could try local suppliers, or Rolawn (0845 604 6050, www.rolawn.co.uk),
which will deliver bags of loam across the country. Seed suppliers: Chiltern
Seeds (01229 581137, www.chilternseeds.co.uk);
Marshalls (also mail-order vegetable starter plants and soft fruit: 01480
443390, www.marshalls-seeds.co.uk);
Simpson’s Seeds (01985 845004, www.simpsons
seeds.co.uk). Fruit: Ken Muir (01255 830181, www.kenmuir.co.uk).
Read before you seed
- The Complete Book of Vegetables, Herbs and Fruit by Matthew Biggs, Jekka
McVicar & Bob Flowerdew (Kyle Cathie £16.99): perfect bedtime reading
for edible obsessives, with cultivation tips from the experts in each field
and delicious recipe suggestions.
- The A-Z of Allotment Vegetables by Caroline Foley (New Holland £12.99): not
just for allotmenteers, this comprehensive guide is invaluable for vegetable
gardeners everywhere.
- Grow Vegetables by Alan Buckingham (Dorling Kindersley £16.99): an excellent
book for all first-time vegetable growers, with plenty of photographs and
practical advice, including how to deal with potential pests and diseases.
