It’s been a tough growing season, I’ll not deny it. Between relentless raids by marauding chickens, a stretch of unusually hot, dry weather and a non-stop battle with mildew, I’m almost at the point of rethinking my life choices.
Honestly, it’s been the hardest year since I started growing food five years ago. If I didn’t expect imminent war and starvation, I’d give up, lie in a hammock and eat doughnuts.
I’ve always rescued ex-battery hens from the local sanctuary but the poor buggers don’t last too long, so in February I bought some point-of-lay pullets. God almighty what a difference. This lot are like Marco Polo and Attila the Hun rolled into one. Unlike any chickens before them, they broke through to the garden, not once, not twice but repeatedly, laying waste to peas, onions, cucumbers and potatoes. This, despite defences constructed with, I think you’ll agree, imagination and expert craftsmanship.
One particularly intrepid explorer even managed to get herself locked in the greenhouse overnight when I feared she’d been foxed. Out she trundled next morning, her crop the size of a football and behind her, carnage.
The pea nets I bought must have been designed by one of those diversity hires, as they are completely unfit for purpose. Most of the plants fell over and died despite being tied to the net with 100 plant clips… but not before they produced 10 kgs of peas
On the mildew front, neem oil mostly kept things in check, and though some of my cucumber plants look a little poorly, so far, they’re still producing. I grew five varieties this year: in order of appearance…Mini White, West Indian, Crystal Apple, Poinsett and gherkins.
The self-seeded tomatoes are producing plenty and since only my twin-sized brother eats them, he’s inundated. There are Petite Gris de Rennes and Minnesota Midget melons lurking around every corner.
The grapes are still producing, potatoes, carrots, and beets are thriving, and the leeks are coming along nicely in their buckets.
The onions are drying out for storage
The pears and apples are ready for picking, and the rhubarb has already featured in some delicious rhubarb crumble.
And there’s basil aplenty to keep me in dairy-free pesto, made with nutritional yeast instead of cheese. I swear, it’s nearly as delicious as I am, and not one of my cheese-loving friends could believe it’s vegan.
So, I think it's fair to say that alongside horticulturalist extraordinaire and master builder, I can now safely add kitchen goddess to my resume.
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