Living In The Moment

We are in the middle of a stretch of sunny weather and I am trying to enjoy every moment. Although I am always behind on the garden, running to catch up with the work, I always try to take some time out to smell the roses (literally and metaphorically). I am now the proud owner of a new poly-tunnel.

It is my first time growing in one and Galician Summers are hot so this year is an experiment to see if I can grow tomatoes, aubergines and various peppers without frazzling them to death. Fingers crossed it is going well so far.

Every year the flower garden next to the house gets brighter and more varied. The smell of the Californian lilac is heavenly and the bees and hover flies agree with me.

 There are masses of butterflies and yet the buddleia is nowhere near flowering yet but I have plenty of nettles for the caterpillars to thrive on and a mix of wild and cultivated flowers all year round.

Ill health has given me reflection time this year and necessitated two trips to the UK (a third is planned). Although not terminal after much thought and discussion with Tim, some priorities have changed. I am reducing the area under cultivation to a more manageable  size until I have help or regain my former vigour, although the latter outcome seems less likely as I continue to age.

So here I am smelling the roses, living in the moment, eating peas, broad beans, field beans, chard, broccoli and mangetout. Sunning myself on the patio every chance I get. Quaffing home made elder flower cordial and mead, and generally enjoying the good life. There is nowhere else I would rather be, and if Tim were here with me to share in natures joys, life would indeed be perfect.

A Garden of Rememberance

Gardens are not simply pretty, they create memories. My arum lilly has produced its first flower in Galicia.

I have several more dotted around but these arums have a story to tell. When I bought a new house in the UK with my first husband, my Grandmother dug up some arum lilly roots from her garden wrapped them in newspaper and gave them to me for my new garden. She also told me their story. When she was newly wed to my Granddad he was a gardener at Charterhouse Public School. He bought her some roots of the arum home to her as a gift.  Ever since she had faithfully taken pieces to every house she had lived in. This all happened nearly a hundred years ago and she died aged 95, a good age. 

My Granddad  died before I was born so I never knew him but the lilly is the best link I have to both of them.  My daughter bought the pieces of root over to Galicia in her suitcase from our house in the UK. Perhaps she will carry on the tradition to another generation.

 When I wander through the garden I see the plants but also the people who helped me with them. Over Winter, Tim and I chose four old  style scented roses together, including an old Gallica, Damask, and Moss types. I await their flowering with excitement, I won't be able to look at them without remembering the choosing process and discussion that went into it (there were lots to choose from). My daughter also can't resist a scented rose and I have a couple of impulse buys from her in the garden. The gift that lasts.

Trees are an even better way of leaving your mark on the landscape.

“A thing which I regret, and which I will try to remedy some time, is that I have never in my life planted a walnut. Nobody does plant them nowadays—when you see a walnut it is almost invariably an old tree. If you plant a walnut you are planting it for your grandchildren, and who cares a damn for his grandchildren?” 
― George Orwell

Tim and I have planted a couple of Walnuts, we both hope we will live long enough to eat a nut from them but if not maybe our grandchildren will.

Black Gold

Low tech farming or small-holding doesn't use expensive chemicals where free alternatives exist. In Galicia this is particularly true with most farms still being small and family run like my next door neighbours. Their main product is veal from the traditional Rubia Gallega breed, a high quality product covered by the European Protected Designation of Origin - PDO. The cows all graze outside all year round on unimproved permanent pasture, they also have a very small dairy herd, goats, pigs, chickens and grow their own hay. They also grow fodder crops and vegetables for themselves.

They pump out the slurry tanks under the barns and spray it on their fields before growing hay. They throw their vegetable waste onto the vegetable patch over winter before ploughing it in, in Spring. Soiled bedding is neatly stacked and left to age. Nothing is wasted.

Yesterday they were preparing the vegetable growing area and adding some wonderful aged manure to the soil. I asked nicely for some and they were kind enough to set some aside for me. I will add most of it to the soil in my new poly-tunnel when it arrives and the rest to the squash growing sites. Although I have chicken manure and compost my own waste, there is never enough of it to go round. Aged manure really is black gold and is valued accordingly.

After a warm couple of weeks the recent weather has mostly consisted of grey cold days with a biting Northerly wind. Leaves are slowly emerging and occasional blossom can be seen but it has all been a bit slow. Recently whilst gardening I occasionally caught an unidentified flowery scent which I couldn't pinpoint. Yesterday all was revealed, it is the Cornelian Cherry in the forest garden, looking beautiful and smelling divine, an absolute magnet for small flying insects. It needs to be because at this time of year there isn't much insect life about.

 Luckily the flowering dead nettles offer another snack to those hardy flying insects and one brave outdoor geranium is trying to flower.

I can't wait for more warm weather so that I too can blossom instead of hunching over the fire.