A Monster Midsummer in Dublin and Lille…

Basil Gooseberries & Rhubarb
Basil Gooseberries & Rhubarb

Chelsea, Chatsworth and Malvern have come and gone, as has Bloom in the Park, and gone too are all those plans we had at the beginning of the month to make postings on all the aforementioned festivals and events. June arrived and on its tails came the air of summer with all its latent promise: warm bright days, summer festivals, ál fresco lunches in short-sleeves and daily blight warnings.
We’ve made busy on The Monster in the Corner, so much so we actually lost ourselves in the doing of things on the plot, and it is only now that we have all things bedded, supported, weeded and netted that we have the time to recap and sketch out the late summer and autumn plans and finally post them here.
All of the plot’s beds are flourishing: the gladiator parsnips are growing very well and now that we’re at mid-summers the Centurion and Stuttgarter onions are finally beginning to bulb but, as expected, about one in six has bolted. The Karmen reds, not surprisingly, are still lagging behind but all the summer bunching and salad onion are now ready for use. We’ve been pulling rhubarb stalks on each visit to the allotment and have jammed and jarred the first flush glut with some finely grated stem ginger. This store never lasts very long as it’s generally shared with extended family, friends and work colleagues, but the Victoria stools seem to be sprouting well enough yet and we should have ample for further desserts, crumbles and that second flush glut for more jam.
The shallot tips are beginning to colour down so these shall be rudely unearthed in the next fortnight or so. A great deal of effort the last 3 weeks has been spent battling the squirrels, blackbirds and magpies for ownership our rapidly ripening blackcurrants and gooseberries. We’ve always acknowledged foregoing nature’s share, but there’s only so much we’ll allow the wildlife to covet.
Having decided against a strawberry crop the last three summer seasons this year we planted up a small bed of 20 plants (a new variety called Malling Centenary) and we’ve had some of these. As with all first year crowns, the pickings were slim, but the berries themselves are of a very good size with that great taste of summer…
The early sown radishes, lettuces and rocket have gone over, so we’ve made more sowing for later in the summer, and the first beetroot sowing is just about ready for some baby-beet pickings. The Broad beans were well and truly walloped with black-fly, and on more than one occasion, this no doubt down to the warm and humid conditions which proliferates their spread, but that said we have fared better than the other plot holders across the walled garden whose potato crops have all been badly decimated with blight. The red Kale sown in May has now been planted into the open drills, as have the pumpkin and ornamental courgette plants, and as usual the herb and floral border which is one of the main focal points of the Monster in the Corner is once again in full bloom and generating the annual conversation piece with the passers-by.
We’ve decided to change the Monster’s ‘rude mechanical’ this year. Since first beginning work on the allotment our ‘play’ has been a large chestnut log with bug hotel and carved wooden plot number in situ. But given the effects of three wet and stormy winters it was looking a little forlorn. This year we’ve gone for a spilled-barrow effect; a living mechanical if you will, the Monster’s designation and number in living floral form. Originally conceived in red, white and bluegiving a nod to the EURO’s 2016 event in France- we’ve adapted a little at the last minute to facilitate incorporating another of the elements of the walled garden into the design, and with a little luck we should be putting the finishing touches to it over this coming weekend.

The Monster's Mechanical Spilled Barrow almost complete
The Monster’s Mechanical
Spilled Barrow almost complete
Almost Completed...
Almost Completed…

Madame dirtdigger is somewhat incapacitated at present, but there’s no slackening-off with this particular one armed weeder & feeder; still showing up for plot duty, still making the most of the weather, and reminding me that as of today the days are no longer stretching. Today, and for another day or so, the season’s daylight is fully taut. Midsummer’s mindfulness abounds, filled with birdsong dawns and those slow receding half-light dusks stretching almost to midnight; young starlings learning the principles of murmuration formation flying and beech nuts and hazel nuts now setting on the branches; cosmos, lilies and lupins beginning to open; sunflowers reaching into the broad light with basil and coriander pots scenting the plot and the outdoor courgettes showing signs of bloom…and to top it all off, great sporting nights like last night that will live long in the memory as the low lying fields of Athenry worm their way into the French psyche’s  association with the Green ArmyCOYBIG

The Green Army doing what they do best...
The Green Army doing what it does best…

 

Robbie's Italian Job
Robbie’s Italian Job
robbies-goal.jpg.jpg
Robbie Brady’s goal…

A Blooming Good Weekend…

Fallow Deer in the Phoenix Park (en route to the Bloom Festival)
Fallow Deer in the Phoenix Park
(while en route to the Bloom Festival)

After a long cool spring, summer actually arrived on time this year and with it came that five day hiatus at the end of May when the RHS puts on its annual showcase in London, The Chelsea Flower Show, while across the pond here in Ireland we’ve just had our Bloom Festival, celebrated each year during the June Bank Holiday weekend.
Always chock-a-block with amazing plants and planting schemes, the Great Chelsea Spring Show has consistently managed to combine old-worldly traditional charm with contemporary cutting edge garden design and all the latest trends in horticultural development.
We’ve never been to the Chelsea Flower show, and as much as we’d love the experience of visiting the truth is we’ll probably never get to visit and for many diverse reasons prime of which is we live in a different country. But, the hay was saved once again as the BBC did what it does best each year when it goes into saturation coverage mode. So although we’ll probably never get to go to Chelsea, at least we still get to take part in this annual floral extravaganza from a distance, and we still get to see The Great Pavilion and the Show Gardens. We also get the Behind the Scenes looks at things, and can even take part (viewers in the UK) in the voting of The People’s Choice Awards not to mention the spin-offs, repeats and more fringe adaptations than you’d have seen on a 1964 episode of Top of the Pops.
And we had Monty, and Carol, and a breezy looking Diarmuid; and there was Gold and Gilt galore, dashed hopes and career-breakthroughs, new cultivar debuts and Bests in Show. And there was good food and banter, sunshine and showers, expert gardening tips, and before the presenters could shake a brolly at a passing downpour or we could set our Smartphone reminder to alert us to the live daily updates and streams… it was all over. Done and dusted. And as Saturday’s plant sell-off got under way the meticulously planned planting schemes were suddenly and unceremoniously thrown into reverse, as the process of uprooting and moving the show’s gardens to some other more permanent elsewhere had begun and the Royal Hospital’s ground beds were cleared for another year.

The period from mid May to end of June is (in the northern hemisphere at least) the high point of the gardening year, and so it is no accident that most of the big gardening fetes and floral festivals are timed for this period. We here in the Emerald Isle purely by dint of geographic proximity and a shared cultural history of over 800 years get to watch this great British summer tradition every year, and it was no great surprise when12/13 years ago, one of our own quasi autonomous governmental organisations decided we here, in Ireland, needed Our Own Chelsea! Okay, so it wasn’t the most auspicious moment in slogan development, but rather naively and frustratingly that’s how the idea was originally pitched. And so it was that in the summer of 2006 the Phoenix Park played host to, and we attended the very 1st Bloom Festival, Ireland’s premiere food and gardening fair…
However in the ten years it has been in operation our BLOOM festival has developed its own unique identity and dare we say that it is only in the last year or two it actually seems comfortable in its own clothes.
In our desire to keep the experience fresh (and our pockets in good health) we attend only every other year, and as this year marked the tenth anniversary of the festival we were certainly going to do so again. Of course our daughter was also involved with talk and discussion sessions through the GIY organization on three of the five days, so of course we were attending this year..

As with all outdoor events the weather is the one uncontrollable element that no amount of planning can legislate for and many’s the time it has put a dampener on things, and although at present there seems to be an extended band of unsettled weather right across mainland Europe with record rainfalls and flash-flooding, we here in Ireland have enjoyed a welcome period of relatively settled and sunny weather which has not only helped the event planners and the Show Garden designers prepare, but has also enthused the public to attend in greater numbers than normal.
So over the coming days we’ll embark on a hindsight excursus or two here on Monster in The Corner as we post the odd photo from Ireland’s premiere food and gardening festival…so, here are some for starters.

 

Out The Other Side: Hope Garden
Out The Other Side: Hope Garden designed to offer hope to Breast Cancer Survivors (hammock made from women’s and girls bras)
Yi Garden (friendship garden) Gold Medal winner,,(my personal favourite)
Yi Garden (friendship garden)
Gold Medal winner,,(my personal favourite)

In the gardener’s absence the garden remains

May 15th
Memo to self…enjoy the Monster!

One of the great pleasures of the gardener is in knowing that even when he or she is not busy weeding and watering and cultivating the garden, the garden goes on being the garden; that even on those occasions when the necessary activities of daily living get in the way of your gardening plans, the vegetable patch will continue to do what it does best, and continue to be the vegetable patch.
In the gardener’s absence the garden remains. The sun and the wind and the rain of those days when the gardener is in absentia continue nature’s innate pastoral care that the most experienced gardener, often times, takes for granted.

Another of the gardener’s great pleasures is in receiving those wonderful free gifts that only the garden can give: self seeded Lupins ‘neath the rose bushes; red orachs germinating next to the lemon balm and mint; purple tansy, rape and clover all showing in flower at the same time and each one a hive of activity with passing honey bees and bumblebees, and self-seeded thyme and marjoram seedlings sheltering in the cover of prostrate rosemary. More grows than the gardener sows and at this time of year a keen eye will help in reaping some of the garden’s unexpected rewards.

Bumblebee on Tansy & Red Orach
Bumblebee on Tansy & Red Orach

But perhaps one of the greatest pleasures of the garden is in simply beholding it: another and altogether more honest gardener than I taught me this. Gardening can be, if so desired, a constant round of frenetic seasonal activity, a continual trolling through lists of what to do on any given day of the year. But sometimes it’s good to take time-out and to simply sit in your garden or on your plot and to look and see, and to listen and hear: to gaze across your lawn or along the herbaceous perennials and rose border; to gauge the clambering clematis or your favoured rambling rose; to sit on your allotment and watch as bees make their buzzing route to your peas and beans and rape and tansy; to catch a glimpse of a furtive song thrush rummaging in the bark mulch, or to listen to blackbirds and robins perched on the handles of your upturned summer redundant wheelbarrow, almost exhorting you to dig up a drill right there and then in the hope of gifting them an easy lunch.
There is a great satisfaction in working and preparing the soil each autumn and spring, and in then sowing seed and watching the seasons make it respond to their will and whim, and  a seasonal contentment in watching the pods swell on beans you’d sown only 12 weeks previous, just as there is a feeling of good fortune and delight in watching your strawberries crowns blossom and your red and green gooseberries set fruit.

There is a great sense of achievement in sowing your onion seed in January and bringing them to crop in August, just as there is a sense of personal pride in managing to get the year’s first sowing of parsnip seed to germinate, early. But don’t neglect the pleasure of simply enjoying your garden or allotment for its own sake. The garden will always be there, just as the allotment forever lurks in the shadow of your effort and toil, even when you are not physically present.
In the gardener’s absence the garden remains, and we should not forget the simple pleasure of enjoying it for its own sake occasionally.