Categories
Agriculture Food Growing Organic Urban

Beetroot Planting

The last cold night in Central London this year was Tuesday 14th March. As you can see from the Frost Map above this last freeze happens sooner with us in the metropolis owing to the effect of the urban heat island.

The final spectacular growth of my seedlings.
At last we are free.
Alarming white salt residue on the surface – that’s London water for you.

If I had more space I would have a water butt on the roof and would gather rainwater there to feed the plants. That’s because using chlorinated tap water seems a real shame. The hard water deposits also build up calcium on the leaves of salad greens. Farming operations like the legendary Jadam in Korea filter their water. If one was using water from a borehole at least the chlorine wouldn’t be a problem. Following this thought to its logical conclusion in the summer, in the absence of as much rain, I would need to filter the London tap water to some degree. There are some quite ingenious techniques for creating DIY filters using charcoal but at the moment life is too busy.

Air-pruning.

The root ball here is what they call “air pruned” in the soil block. That’s to say, unlike roots in a seed tray which start growing back in on themselves, in a soil block when the roots reach the air at the edges they stop. Or at least that’s the argument… These seedlings were multi-sown, that’s to say I put three seeds in each block so they get to grow with a buddy.

Laid out on my raised bed.

I worked out where I was going to bury them here and then, as you can see below, buried them relatively deep. I could have done deeper I guess but didn’t want to disturb the soil unduly.

Six feet underground.
Dug in deep and dressed with compost.

Last year I remember being worried when I’d planted my seedlings. Like these above they look very defeated. The expression gardeners use for this period of adjustment is transplant shock. Soil blocks supposedly fare better, and you can sort of see why as they’re already in their little universe, but like everything in horticulture people give you a million reasons why one thing or another is optimal – and most of them are bullshit. Dressed with a little compost just to tuck them in; these will do fine.

Categories
Agriculture Food Growing

Carrot Seeds

Carrot seeds are miniscule. This year’s were easier to sow than last’s of which a couple were kicking around in the bottom of the packet so I can show you (see below). How on earth are you supposed to sow something so tiny? You need tweezers!

You can’t sow carrots in module trays, they have to go straight into the ground. Because the impetus of their growth is down into the earth I suppose they get confused in the confines of a tiny container.

I sowed these on the 11th as the moon had started to wane. I don’t really buy Rudolf Steiner’s ideas (though people infinitely more knowledgeable and experienced than me do), but planting roots after the full moon, and plants as the moon waxes is the most basic concession to them possible. It’s fun too to imagine cosmic forces affecting one’s tiny veg patch.

“You’re ‘avin a larf!”
Categories
Agriculture Community Ecology Food Growing Health Organic Practice Soil

Aminopyralids

Not my veg innit.

These filthy herbicides get stuck in the food chain and won’t decay.

I first came across them through Charles Dowding who explained how his own compost was exposed. He had used the manure of cattle which had eaten crops which had been sprayed with them. Vegetables that had been grown on the compost were horribly stunted.

Please take a moment to sign this petition to hasten their ban.

Categories
Community Growing Practice Urban

Guerrilla Camellia

How it looked freshly planted in 2002.

I planted this Japanese Camellia in the leisure centre flowerbeds in 2002. It was a gift from my father-in-law which I didn’t have a pot large enough for. For many years it was dwarfed by the trees and bushes around it. I was sure I was going to be rumbled and the council were going to cut it down. That never happened thankfully. In the intervening years I’ve composted around its base occasionally.

These days, twenty one years later, it’s absolutely massive. It has really thrived. And this time of year, at the end of February, it flowers. It’s very pretty though sadly the petals go brown and it starts to look a right mess. Requires me to dead-head it.

It’s like a flipping tree trunk.

The Monkey Puzzle Tree I planted at the same time didn’t fare so well. Where I put it it had almost no light and it got choked by other hardier bushes. It looked pretty terrible by the time it was cut down.

Categories
Ecology Growing Urban

Winnowing Limanthes

Growing veg on my roof garden is only meaningful up to a certain point. You couldn’t pretend it was a substantial amount of food or that it was making a dent in your shopping bill. It’s for laughs really. To that end I like to plant to a lot of flowers with the focus on ones which the bugs like. And they love Limanthes which is sometimes called poached egg plant because it has a yellow bit in the middle and a white rim. Geddit?

Limanthes in bloom early last summer.

Last autumn I collected the seed of the flower and stowed them away in the dark in a jar. The Limanthes jar is here in the centre with my saved Poppy seeds and saved Borage which I also planted yesterday. Yesterday was an auspicious day to plant because it was three days before the full moon.

Home-grown Poppy, Limanthes, and Borage in jars.

Because I was a bit lazy when I gathered the seed it was mixed up with a load of other shite. Twigs and stuff. So I had the opportunity to winnow it. I scrunched it all up and blew the chaff away.

Blow…
blow…
blow your house down.

Then I stuffed them in pots and marked them “LIM”. The temptation is to overplant because you’ve got so much seed. Which I probably succumbed to. Though it’s supposed to keep it’s not going to be so lively next year and you don’t want to waste it. Home-saved seed is supposed to be particularly vigorous, these little guys know the scene and they’re back for more action. We’ll see.

Potted for 2023.
Categories
Food Growing Urban

Beetroot seedlings

Soil blocks in 2023.
Is this a jungle? It just came alive and took him.
It’s like a jungle sometimes it makes me wonder how I keep from going under.

The last frost here in London is towards the end of March. If you were to plant seeds outdoors after that point you’d have to wait a while to get a vegetable you could eat. Therefore you plant seedlings earlier indoors in the warmth, and get a head start. And then you transplant them outdoors as soon as it’s a bit warmer because a frost will kill many types of seedlings. I use some cheap LED grow lights because there’s not enough light on my window ledge. In theory it would be good to have a greenhouse but I don’t have enough space for one. Furthermore this early in the year you’d need to heat a green house somehow. I heat my study already because I work here. Therefore, on balance, I think it’s justifiable.

If you don’t have enough light the seedlings get “leggy”. The poor things are stretching themselves up higher to reach a light they perhaps assume is just out of reach; like they think they are under a pile of leaves or summat. And then they fall over. This, below, is my leggy seedlings last year – terrible. But you know they planted just fine outdoors and grew into big healthy beetroot. You just bury them and their stems a little deeper in the soil. I’m not going to have that problem this year. In fact I’m pretty happy with how they are looking.

I’m planting all my seeds in soil blocks which are like home-made chocolate brownies. You could make them just as easily squeezing the soil into a little ball and popping the seed in the top. That’s apparently how lots of native peoples do it. Maybe I’ll try that in the next batch. I plant a lot of beetroot because it’s maybe my favourite vegetable. I like to roast it. Delicious.

2022’s leggy seedlings.