KW-23 Handsome pig

Sad donkey

In the world of growing your own, specifically in the northern hemisphere, in a place with growing season of fewer than six months, you’d really like to have everything in the ground, sown, transplanted, potted out, by the end of May. Well, dear readers, supporters and co-conspirators, we are close, and where we are not quite on target, we’re behind in places where we can catch up.

I absolutely love the colour of red orach (Gartenmelde, Atriplex hortensis). I think I have probably only grown it once or twice before, but if this does well, I shall be saving the seeds for sure, and it will be a regular feature in the garden and on the plate.

The roots field is about half full, and the things that are not yet in the ground are all fast - turnips, swedes, beetroots can be squeezed in at almost any time before the evenings get cold.

I have a bag of Jerusalem artichokes needing to go in. They are probably the most borderline “late”, taking about 120 days to mature, but I’m pretty sure that they don’t need the summer’s heat at the end of their growing season, and I know that they can stay in the ground all winter if they need to. Or if I want them to. The greens break isn’t quite full either, but again, sowing some fast growing lettuces is not a problem unless the soil gets ridiculously hot, but we mulch extensively to keep the moisture in and the sun out anyway. There is a ridiculous amount to be done in the coming week, but then, when it is done, we officially get into the summer cycle of weeding and watering and keeping the tomatoes pretty and beans in order and the garden mostly gets on with things itself.

If we had a strong plan, and were determined to stick to it, you could happily rate the potager as “not quite there”, but in this, the best of all possible worlds, wherever we end up is where we are. Expectations become reality and reality becomes the truth of the matter, and what makes more logical and emotional sense than being happy with the truth of a thing? We’re doing ok.

doing ok. The mow looks a whole lot less aggressive in real life. I never did learn how to cut grass for the ‘Gram

In slightly wonderful news, there was excellent germination representation from things which start with the letter S. Sweetcorn and scorzoneras and sunflowers and savoy cabbages, all sown into the open ground, all came up this week. In their freshly-birthed state, thin and tender and hard to spot, they aren’t particularly vibrant to the digital retina of the camera, but if you were to lie down in the dirt with me and squint at ground level along the row, you would be as delighted as I to see them all doing the things they were destined to do. Which is sprout. Swiss chards and some squashes in seed trays similarly signed up to the same fun and games.

The spinach, though. That is not doing as well. I think I shall add to The Book that it is, in the experience of this pirate, a bad idea to try to germinate spinaches in a hot polytunnel. I strongly suspect that would rather have it a little cooler. I shall try again. It’s almost never too late to sow spinach. It’s not too late yet, anyway.

Talking of the polytunnel, I moved most things out of the there - the patty pans and tomatoes, courgettes and most of the beans are now out. There is a substantial tray of beans which I am not planting out just yet because I thought they were climbers, and they are giving off strong dwarf french vibes now. I should have taken a photo and thrown the mystery open to the hive mind. Sorry, didn’t think of it until now. I’ll do in on the ‘gram later today. Your input will be gratefully received.

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Many, many years ago, I got a book called “Rare Breeds”. It might have been a gift, and it might just as well have been a car-boot sale find. Full bleed colour photographs or farm animals that you just don’t see these days as much.

‘andsome bastid, innit?

There were pages of chickens with elaborately feathered legs looking like they have just come off a stage in the corner of a Soho bar, majestic sheep, and beautiful cows. But there were two which stood out to me - the only two I remembered the names of. The stunningly impressive Baudet du Poitou donkey, a majestic six-footer with courded cadenettes of thick black fur and sad, sad eyes¹. And the Mangalitza pig - a frothy mouthed, be-tusked monster of indeterminate features hiding behind oversized ears which come complete with their own hairstyle, and unkempt facial fuzz with weeds stuck in its barbs.

The older Tony gets, the more he looks like my memory of that picture.

I would like to wish you all a wonderful week, individually and collectively. We have a few days of rain in front of us which, I suppose, means I should do something for the rehabilitation of the dumpster fire sub-student-dwelling monstrosity that is the kitchen and then I should most probably do some more of that typing thing that really should be taking up more of my time than it currently does.

Quit your job. Grow vegetables. You’ve always wanted to. Make a start before you have to.

Subliminal, what? :)

Love you all

Your loving Pirate Ben

xoxo

1. Talking of sad-eyed donkeys reminded me of one of the most depressing movies ever shot - Au hasard Balthazar. It is a story about a donkey (Balthazar) who gets to witness, mostly first hand, the very worst of the cruelty of the human species. As an allegory of our condemned plight of life, suffering and death, it is easily one of the greatest movies of all time. As a cheerful go-to flick for an evening in with the family, it’s just not. Highly recommended if you thought Kes was insufficiently bleak, strongly discouraged if you still carry around the depth and profundity of Marly & Me.