The Balcony Garden

April Heatwave

2011-04-17T18:53:00.003+02:00

We're never satisfied really. A month ago I was moaning about how cold it had been. Although average minimum temperatures are around 6°C in March, they'd dropped to below freezing at night, and I'd had to put the fleece back on some of the tenderest plants. But then it changed and the temperature rose to more normal figures. And kept on rising.... Only a week or so ago, it rose to 32°C - unheard of in April, which usually has average temperatures of around 18°C as a daytime high. I was watering as if it was mid-August rather than spring, and these little daisies just fainted one lunchtime when I hadn't had time to water in the morning. I have to say I knew just how they felt - I was in much the same state as I wandered around town.

The daisies recovered, despite also falling prey to a nasty attack of powdery mildew. I suspect that some of the spring blooms came and went rather quicker than they might otherwise have done, though. A pity, but the heat has pushed on some of the seedlings. The aubergines are now through, and the tomatoes are begging to be transplanted.

The best show so far this month has come from the wallflowers though. I planted far too many last year, but was looking forward to seeeing them all in bloom together. I'd planted some yellow ones and some browny ones whose seeds I'd collected from last year's plants, and some red ones from a packet. I wanted them mixed in the containers so had mixed the seeds together too. How would they come out? Well, those in the first container were all yellow.

And so were those in the second container. And the second, and the third... I'll spare you the photos of all six containers. Out of about forty plants, every one that's bloomed so far has been yellow, except two which have shown a few browny streaks. Given that my sedum is also in flower, it's been a very yellow month so far....

There are some wallflower plants which haven't yet bloomed - nor even put out buds come to that. Are those the red ones and are they simply a later variety than the yellow ones, or have they just decided they can't be bothered? Time will tell...

Oh, so that's what they were...

2011-04-10T17:40:00.008+02:00

Last autumn I posted about some mystery plants which had suddenly started coming through in a large container on the front balcony. They were obviously some kind of bulb, but I couldn't for the life of me remember putting anything in there. What were they? Jan suggested "Those ones with the orange flowers, and I said, pseudo-knowledgeably, "Oh you mean Montbretia" - although I realised later that the picture I had in mind (and I suspect that Jan did too) was Crocosmia.

I love Crocosmia, so it was quite likely that I'd planted them. And the long sword-like leaves looked right. So crocosmia they were, I decided. And when the flower buds started to show, I was even more certain - long flower spikes with buds along the stem. They looked as if they were going to bloom around about the same time as the Honesty that was in the same container. Orange and violet - hmm, that would be noticeable.

They're now in bloom - and what have we got? Freesias.

Yellow white and purple ones - which go very nicely with the Honesty. So perhaps I planned it all along. Who knows? I still don't remember planting them. But they're very pretty...

Just when you least expect it...

2011-03-23T18:32:00.002+01:00

At the end of 2009, I planted a couple of Crown Imperial (Fritillaria imperialis) bulbs in one of my larger containers. It was a bit late - they're supposed to go in in the autumn, and it must have been early December. But I thought I might just be inside the time limit.

Spring came and - nothing. Not so much as a sprout. So I thought I'd probably done my usual trick of overwatering (easy in the large containers) and had rotted the bulbs. I found out later that they are supposed to be planted on their sides to stop the water collecting in the tops. Don't you always find out that sort of thing afterwards...

Anyway, I forgot about them and planted other stuff, summer annuals and so on, in the container. And when winter came, cleared them out and left the container bare except for one little alyssum plant which I had no room for elsewhere. So I popped it in there on its own to overwinter, thinking that I'd move it in spring.

A few days ago, I went out to do just that. And here comes the Crown Imperial...

It must have just sat there all last year, biding its time.

Needless to say, I can't now remember what colour it is. Did I get the yellow ones? The orangey red ones? I'm going to have to find other stuff to plant in there which will go with either - and so much for my idea of that being my purple and white container this year.

Never mind. Nothing like a few surprises to keep the garden interesting...

Yo-yo weather

2011-03-19T19:40:00.001+01:00

March - and the month that, here in Milan at least, we can really get going with the serious stuff. The beginning of the month was very mild - two weeks ago I was out on the balcony in a short-sleeved T-shirt. It was well over 18°C and so, finally, all the last remaining fleece came off the containers.

And then, well, all those seeds were just begging to go in. So I spent a happy Sunday afternoon sowing.

The veg went in first - everything from lettuce and herbs (to stay outside) and tomatoes, aubergines and peppers (to come inside for a few weeks). And then it was the turn of the flowers - antirrhinums, alyssum, calendula, marigolds .. and lots more.

When it got dark I came happily in to cook the evening meal, and turned the TV on to watch the news and weather forecast. And they were forecasting snow for Tuesday.

Well, it didn't happen. But wow, did the temperature drop. Down to below freezing at nights. So the fleece went back on all the containers, and I covered up the seed pots as best I could.

The cold weather (and some torrential rain) lasted a week or so and then the temperature gradually began to creep up again. We've been back around 18°C yesterday and today.

Until a couple of hours ago that is. Adelio and I went out this afternoon to get some bags of compost. It was bright and sunny, and as we went I took some photos of the plants and trees which we saw on the way. There's Forsythia everywhere, and blossom on the roadside trees. And though I'm not desperately keen on this plant (whose name I know but can never remember - I always think of Pieris, but it's not) it does look wonderful in the spring when the new reddish brown leaves contrast with the rest of the bush.

Spring seemed to have arrived.

We were only inside about twenty minutes, but when we came out the sky had turned black and there was clearly a megastorm on the way. We just made it home before it broke...

We've overwintered well...

2011-02-23T20:15:00.005+01:00

Over the past couple of weeks, the work of uncovering everything on the balcony and cleaning up has gone on. And I've been happily surprised how well everything has overwintered. I've lost one spider plant, and that's all.

The weather has stayed much the same since I last posted. With the exception of a few days when we had torrential rain, it's been a matter of warm sunny days but nights well below freezing. Down to -8°C according to Google, though I have to say I've not been out at 4am to check. So the fleece stays on - but the daytime temperatures, which have stayed up between 10°-15°C, have meant that everything is clearly coming back into growth.

When I attacked the back balcony, the first job was to sort out the chrysanthemums. I cut back all the dead flowers and shoots from last year...

... and there were the new shoots coming through. After last year's chrysanthemum experiment I shall certainly be leaving most of them on the old plants, even if I do take cuttings later on.

The sedum has come through well too, and the flower shoots are already forming. Usually it blooms in April, but it seems so far on that I wonder if it will be early this year.

Every other container I uncovered seemed to have wallflowers in it - which won't be a surprise if you were around last year when I rather exaggerated the number of seeds that I put in. They were mixed though - some yellow-brown ones that I'd collected from past plants, and some red ones from a packet. Needless to say I didn't label them or keep them separate. We'll see when they bloom...

Then there was the garlic. You may remember that I planted it in January. You may - but I didn't. I'd completely forgotten about it, and when I uncovered it, it had that look on its face that said : We know you drowned our predecessors last year, and we know that this year you promised not to overwater us - but come on ... we're not camels. Sorry lads.

But it was when I started on the office balcony that I got the best surprise : the pelargoniums are already coming into bloom. Not bad for February.

Now - I feel a bit guilty posting this pic just after Jan of Mud, Gorse and Pines has recently posted about the sorry state of hers... but Jan, I'm not gloating, really... promise... I'm not...

The balcony is back...

2011-02-06T19:04:00.003+01:00

In the last few days, temperatures have suddenly shot up. Walking home on Friday afternoon, I suddenly found myself unzipping my jacket and ripping off my woolly scarf because it was so warm. Don't know what the temperature was, but forecasts have been predicting anything up to 14°C (57°C) for Milan this weekend.

And on the way to the supermarket yesterday, I noticed that the new grass was coming through, and lawns were looking green again. Didn't even have to pretend to myself this year - it was clearly time time to uncover the balcony...

So this morning saw several hours of hard work out on the front. The fleece came off the containers huddled against the balcony wall and the dead stuff got thrown away. There was surprisingly little that hadn't made it, I was pleased to see. Most containers seemed more or less unscathed - like this one with the plants that surprised me by coming through last autumn (I'm more and more inclined to believe they're Montbretia), and a couple of Honesty.

Next, the railings and container holders, as well as the drip trays and the containers themselves, all got washed down - as did the tables. And then the fun started ...

For the past ten days or so, I've been "collecting". A visit to the garden centre last Sunday saw me coming home with a couple of bags of primroses and pansies, and when I was at the supermarket yesterday, and saw them putting out stuff that had just come off the lorry - well I couldn't resist.

So in they went, together with some other plants that had been keeping warm under the fleece since the autumn - like the cyclament I blogged about then.

But I wasn't the only one who'd decided that spring is just around the corner and it's time to wake up and start work again. While I was potting up the new plants, I had a visitor...

The first bee of the year - obviously pleased that he'd found somewhere where there were a few flowers. And very welcome he was too. May he be the first of many.

By the time I came in to make lunch, the sun had hit the balcony and the thermometer was showing 18°C (64°F). I'd stripped off the heavy Norwegian style sweater I use for winter gardening (I can't bear gardening in a jacket) and winter seemed only a memory.

But no - I'm not that naive. It's still only the first week in February, and a quick look at the forecasts for the next few days show that though daytime temperatures are staying up around 14°, at night it's going as low as -2°(28°F). So (if sadly) I left the tenderer plants, like my plumbago, close to the house, and wrapped them up again in fleece. The primula and pansies should have no problems, but there are a few biennials that I'm more worried about. Like the plants in the first container above. I think they're daisies, but have to admit that I can't really remember. But it's easy enough just to pop the fleece on at night and off again in the morning, using bulldog clips to hold it.

So there we are. The winter may not be over. But for the moment it looks as if we might be heading for an early spring. Or have I spoken too soon...

Starlings

2011-01-27T20:55:00.006+01:00

My mother loathed starlings (sturnus vulgaris). She'd always put out bread for the birds, but then spend hours chasing off the starlings. Bullies she called them, only interested in "stealing" food from the little sparrows. Anthromorphism rules, OK.

There no longer seem to be either sparrows or starlings in my Lonon garden. I've posted before about the sparrow decline in London (they're still going strong in Milan fortunately), but the lack of starlings is odd. Because they're still in the area - the car park of our local supermarket is full of them. The cars don't daunt them in the slightest...

Why have they abandoned our area of parkland and gardens to move into a trading estate? No idea. Wouldn't have thought that an Asda car park was that rich on pickings. Could be the MacDonald's next door I suppose ...

Oi Bert! Them kids 'ave just dropped a carton. Sling us over a chip, would yer...

But perhaps it's not just that. According to the BBC Wildlife website, the population of starlings has dropped by 92% on previous figures. That certainly tallies with what I've seen in the garden.

Starlings are sensible birds. Some migrate, some don't - it depends where they live and what the winter conditions are like there. Birds from eastern Europe, where temperatures are harsh, will migrate, either to milder climates like Britain (is that why I no longer notice them so much - because I'm only there in the summer when numbers are reduced to the residents?) or south, to the real warmth. Here in Italy we see huge flocks arriving every year. Both in Milan and Rome, the sky outside the main station is often dark with them, and the air shrill with the squawking of up to 100,000 individuals. I wanted to make a video of them this year but (of course) missed them and had to make do with a few photos. During a walk down the Martesana canal in November, I noticed that they were gathering. Numbers were puny in comparison to some flocks that I've seen, but still dangerous. I had to go home and wash my hair afterwards...

Yet even a few who live in more temperate climes will sometimes up and go. The RSPB site says "These birds are residents, and most never leave us..." - which presumably means that some do. So how do they decide ?

- Eh Fred. Decided what yer doin' fer yer 'olidays?
- 'allo Charlie. Well, yer know, things 'ave bin a bit tight recently. Me 'n the missis thought we might just stay at 'ome 'n 'ave a few days out. You?
- Oh going down ter Majorca fer a coupla months with the gang. Yer know who I mean?

Those that decide to stay at home sometimes find themselves in trouble when unexpectedly hard weather comes. This one, with 25 cms of snow on the ground, was reduced to attacking the feeders for the tits on my sister-in-law's balcony in Northern Germany this Christmas.

So if you've got some in your area, take no notice of my mother's prejudices. They're no longer the common garden bird that they once were. Ignore the pompous, aggressive strutting and squawking, and focus on that gorgeous metallic sheen on the plumage. Losing the starling would be as great a loss as losing the Bengal Tiger in my opinion. So put out some food and don't chase them off. Even starlings have to eat...

Spathiphyllum

2011-01-23T19:12:00.003+01:00

It has been bitterly cold here for the last few days, with temperatures dropping to -8° at night. And we're not even officially into the three "days of the blackbird" at the end of the month, traditionally always the coldest of the year. (Why "days of the blackbird"? I blogged about it a couple of years ago. You'll find it here)

So I've found myself putting off the clearing up jobs that are waiting for me on the balcony, and I've spent the time giving my houseplants some TLC instead.

I have very few in the flat. It's quite dark, and most plants suffer from the lack of light. In the summer, in fact, they stop being houseplants and go out on the balcony, but in winter have to come in to protect them from the cold. But I do have a bit more luck in my office.

One of my favourites (apart from my beloved Pothos, Scindapsus or whatever you want to call it) are these little Spathiphyllums, Peace lilies. I got them last autumn (a present from some students - thank you Module 3 people) and they've been super all winter, blooming their little hearts out.

Native to the rain forests of Central and South America, Spathiphyllum thrives in slightly shady conditions. And so is well at home in the office where, except on the sunniest days of summer, I need a light on constantly. Being a tropical plant, it does like to stay warm though -keep it at over 15°C (60°F).

They come in all sizes from small to medium to large. I'm not sure what this one is. Possibly Spathiphyllum wallisii "Chopin", a dwarf cultivar. It's tiny in comparison to other spathiphyllums I've had in the past.

As a rain forest plant it likes to stay moist - though not soggy. Let it dry out and it will flop horribly. Don't panic however - as long as you catch it quite quickly and water well, it will pick up again as if nothing had happened. It's only fainted.

Like all houseplants, it needs to be kept clean. If the leaves get dusty then their stomata ( the plant version of skin pores) get clogged. Plants absorb sunlight and carbon dioxide to create their own food in the form of sugars, releasing oxygen as a waste product. This process, called photosynthesis, is impossible (or at least inefficient) if the stomata are clogged, and the plant will suffer (wouldn't you?).

Plants growing outside will be washed regularly by the rain, but in the house (or on a balcony) they need cleaning regularly. Use a soft sponge or cloth dipped in tepid water. You'll usually be horrified at how much muck comes off.

Smallish plants with tough leaves (like Scindapsus) can also be popped into the sink under a gentle stream of tepid water and given a shower. This is also a good way of getting rid of any pests like aphids and the dreaded red spider mite. Make sure though that any excess water that gets into the soil is allowed to drain off immediately.

Mini-plants

2011-01-16T20:38:00.005+01:00

We're having a cold, nasty January. Temperatures aren't bad - around 2-3°C - but it's been foggy for days. Which means it's been a miserable, damp type of cold and everything is grey and dark. Summer mist can be beautiful. Winter fog isn't.

Needless to say not much is happening on the balcony, and I'm getting itchy. I want to get going again, but know it's too early. So when I saw these mini-houseplants in the supermarket yesterday, all at 1,50€, I didn't stand a chance of resisting. They were being sold separately, but I loved the contrasting leaf colours and thought they'd look good together. And bought them.

Dangerous. Because I had no idea what they were and what conditions they needed. The supermarket label announced that they were "piantine verdi" - small green plants. Wow, that's helpful. Did they need the same type of soil? Did they like the same amount of water. No idea. Buying plants without knowing what they are is, of course, the one thing you should never do. But you do, don't you? Please tell me it's not just me.

Anyway, once home, out came my wonderful, very old and very well thumbed houseplant book*. And I think I've managed to identify them all (I think - tell me if you disagree). They are, starting with the plant with the pink leaves at the back (weren't these supposed to be small green plants?) and moving around in clockwise order :

1. The Polka Dot plant (Hypoestes phyllostachya also known as H. sanguinolenta) : Originally from Madagascar and likes warmth and humidity. No problem. Is also happy in shade good. My living room gets very little natural light. Can grow up to 2ft, so need their growing tips pinched out to stop them becoming straggly. Still no problem ..

2. Ivy (Hedera) : Well, OK, I didn't really need to look this one up. Good in situations of poor light (phew!) and doesn't seem to be fussy about anything else.

3. The Aluminium plant (Pilea cadierei) : I think this might be my favourite of the five - I loved the contrasting green and grey of the leaves. Native to Vietnam and sensitive to magnesium deficiency - needs a good dose of Epsom salts occasionally (a teaspoon in a pint of water.) That can be arranged. Likes a moist soil - no problems so far.

4. This one caused me a few problems. I couldn't find it at all. However, when I turned to the net it popped up on Plants are the Strangest People. It's a Peperomia, though I've not been able to identify the variety. My houseplant book does list them, but there are around 1,000 species in the genus and, not surprisingly, mine wasn't the one they'd chosen to illustrate. Doesn't like to be too moist and not keen on humidity.

5. Pellonia (possibly Pellonia daveauava - try spelling that without looking three times) : Again likes warmth, humidity and moist soil.

So - the only problem might be the Peperomia, which seems to like cooler, drier conditions than the rest. Could have been worse, I suppose...

References

What is my wonderful, very old and well-thumbed houseplant book ?

Thank goodness for garlic... Part Two

2011-01-07T23:51:00.003+01:00

When I was a child, growing up in South London, garlic was the epitome of foreignness. My mother wouldn't have touched it with a bargepole. It was one of those things, like snails, that the French ate, and therefore decidely beyond the pale. (When I got older, I did once point out that she would eat winkles at every chance she got, but received the reply, "Yes, but they're food.")

Back to garlic. Suffice to say that I had to wait till I left home before I discovered what it could do for food - eating it was one of those daring, "forbidden" new experiences which awaited me when I got to university.(Don't get excited - the others were things like curry and stirfries. Food plays a large part in my memories of uni.) And I was immediately hooked.

One of the reasons I'm obsessing over garlic at the moment is that it's the featured plant on this month's page of the garden calendar that I found under the Christmas tree this year. Santa (in the guise of my sister-in-law) brings me one every year. It's always garden related, and it gets pride of place in the kitchen all year. This year the focus is on herbs and spices, and January is garlic.

I talked in Part One of this post about how useful it is to deter insects and fungi in the garden. But of course, as well as being good for plants, it's equally good for us. Leaving aside its folkloristic reputation of protecting against the plague and vampires (though it might not hurt to take the odd plait with you next time you happen to be in Transylvania), it's recognised as being good for the heart, and as protecting against some forms of cancer. This in addition of course to the anti-bacterial properties - something I tried out at Christmas when I managed to slice open my finger with a knife I'd been using to chop the stuff. Can't say it was the pleasantest experience I've ever had, but boy did that cut stay clean...

What was I making at the time? Garlic bread - one of those totally simple foods that always tastes as if it originated in heaven. I always make it to accompany roast chicken and turkey - I'll leave you to guess which I was cooking on Christmas day - but it goes well with a lot of pasta dishes, peppers, all sorts of things.

The easiest way to make it is just to make some vertical slashes in a baguette type loaf (or whatever you can get that's similar), and stuff each slash with a slice of butter and a slice of raw garlic. However, an alternative is to soften the butter first, crush the garlic, and mix the two together along with some finely chopped herbs - I usually use chives or parsley. Then stuff the cuts in the bread with the mix, as before.

Wrap the lot in foil and pop it in the oven at about 400F/200C/gas mark 6 for about ten minutes till the crust is crispy and golden.

OK - it's not the recipe to use if you've got a cholesterol problem or are trying to lose weight. Garlic is often touted as a way to lower cholesterol, but recent research doesn't seem to support the claim. I suspect this sort of garlic bread, with its heavy dependence on butter, was originally a French recipe. If you want something a bit more healthy, there is of course the Italian version, bruschetta, which is just slices of toasted bread plus garlic and tomato. I love Italian food, and much of the best of it are the traditional recipes of the poorer part of the population - one of the most delicious things I ever tasted was Panzanella - a "salad" made with stale bread, oil and tomatoes - a recipe invented so as not to waste left-over bread.

But back to bruschetta. To make bruschetta properly, you need unsalted Tuscan bread and to toast it over an open fire. If that's not possible, use what you can - but bear in mind that you need a trip to Italy if you're going to really understand what's so great about it. Rub a clove of garlic into the toasted bread, dribble some good olive oil over the top, add a bit of salt and a round of very thinly sliced tomato sprinkled with oregano. If all the ingredients are fresh and good quality, it's heaven.

Thank goodness for garlic... Part One

2011-01-05T19:53:00.000+01:00

It's that time of year again. Mid-winter. The time when you look around desperately for something to do in the garden and can't find anything. Christmas kept you occupied for a bit so you didn't have to think about it, but now...

So thank goodness for garlic. Garlic actually wants to be planted in winter. It needs a while in cold conditions in order to start growing. If you're late, you can always stick it in the fridge for a few weeks before you plant, but what gardener would want to pass up on the chance of having something that really, really wants to be sown in January?

January may seem a bit late. The advice on when to sow that you'll find in the gardening books and websites ranges from late October to early spring. But the BBC Gardener's World website says November to January, and that's good enough for me.

I'm sowing in seed trays for now, and will transfer the plants to the containers later on. The Gardener's World website explains how (follow the link above) - or if you speak Italian try a great blog that I've just come across Un pugno di terra e un seme (which translates as A fistful of soil and a seed).

I shall be using the garlic mainly as companion plants to deter pests - harvesting is a lower priority. Garlic supposed to deter just about anything - aphids, red spider mite, colorado beetle, and boring insects (no, not uninteresting ones, but the type that eat into woody stems and branches). You name it and someone will suggest garlic as a remedy. It's also supposed to prevent a variety of diseases - peach leaf curl, apple scab, sooty mold, black spot... All sources however, warn against planting it near peas, beans and other legumes - annoyingly without explaining why. It might possibly be because the antibiotic properties kill off the bacteria which fix the nitrogen produced by legumes in the soil. But I'm hypothesising wildly there. Does anyone know?

Even if you don't want to grow garlic around your plants, you can buy some and use it as a home-made anti-fungal spray. Crush or blend the cloves from three large heads of garlic into about half a litre of water. Leave it to stand and then strain the bits out (or they'll clog up the tube of your spray). Breaking up the tissues of the garlic during the crushing releases a chemical substance called allicin which has antibiotic and anti-fungal properties. I've used it regularly and it seems to work. Not recommended, however, for houseplants. It works all right, but the smell does linger...

Garlic oil is also recommended as a deterrent for slugs and snails. That's one problem you don't get on a balcony, so I can't vouch for whether it works, but it would be worth a try.

As I'm not primarily growing the garlic as a crop, I didn't bother too much about the quality of the cloves, and just stuck in some which I got from the supermarket. If you do this though, make sure that you use organically grown garlic, as otherwise it may have been treated with chemicals expressly to stop it germinating. Another reason for the "lazy" choice is that there's nowhere around here that I can get seed garlic, and my first attempts at sourcing it through the internet only came up with places which either didn't deliver to Europe or only sold it in quantities that were far too large for the balcony.

However, I've now found The Garlic Farm which sells everything you could possibly think of related to garlic, and which has gone firmly onto my list of places to visit the next time I'm on the Isle of Wight. As my last visit was forty-five years ago, a new trip is long overdue. They sell lots of varieties of seed garlic - and will deliver to Europe - and browsing their site has made me think I might just invest in some of the good stuff. Especially as it seems that last year there was a garlic shortage and prices sky-rocketed. Why? Because apparently, a lot of the garlic we eat comes from China, and fears of bird 'flu there meant that domestic supplies were hoarded. No, as far as I know there's no evidence that garlic protects against bird 'flu, but a lot of Chinese seem convinced it does.

I don't know whether the situation will be repeated in 2011 or not, but the thought of the carbon footprint that the garlic I'm using might have clocked up is quite enough to convince me that growing my own might not be a bad idea. And until then, I shall certainly be looking at the labels to make sure that what I buy comes from slightly nearer home - as I said, the stuff that I've planted is organic, and though the packaging doesn't state the origin, it does say that the cultivation methods conformed to the EU regulation 2092/91 which suggests that it comes from slightly nearer home than China, at least.

But if I'm going to grow my own, what varieties will I choose? The Garlic Farm's list had be hopping from one foot to the other like a child in a sweetshop. Should I go for softneck garlic, the type you normally find in the supermarket, which is easy to grow and store - or hardneck garlic, which tastes better? What about trying elephant garlic, with it's huge sweeter tasting cloves? Or should I just go for the Garlic Lover's Seed Selection which will give me nine different varieties and a hundred plants...

A hundred plants. Erm... wasn't that the quantity I didn't reckon I could cope with on the balcony? And aren't even the air miles between the Isle of Wight and Milan a bit exaggerated? It may not be China, but it's hardly local produce.

There are times when trying to live sustainably can be very difficult ...

Look what they've done to my balcony...

2011-01-03T17:41:00.003+01:00

As usual we spent the Christmas and New Year period in Germany. We left Italy just as a lot of European airports were being shut for snow, and thinking that it might turn south, I made sure to fill up the bird feeders before we left.

In fact, while most of the continent had a very white Christmas, Milan only had rain. That didn't deter the birds though. The great tits are clearly at the more respectable end of the bird community. They've been pecking their way gentilely through the peanuts,and I'm expecting a thank-you card to arrive soon. The sparrows, on the other hand, are a bunch of deliquents who clearly saw the bird-seed container as an invitation to vandalise the whole place.

The balcony looks as though a bomb has hit it, and I hate to think what I'm going to find growing in that container next year. On the plus side, I don't think I'm going to have to buy any fertiliser. By the time I've scraped up all the droppings, I'm going to have enough guano to last a couple of seasons...

In Germany, with all the snow that was around, the birds were virtually dependent on feeders and it was a great chance to spot a few types that we don't get here. Apart from the ubiquitous great tits and blue tits, I also saw some long-tailed tits, greenfinches and chaffinches, a nuthatch...

...and a tree-creeper.

Forgive the lousy photos - I had my camera on the wrong setting without noticing it.

There were various raptors around too. I saw a lot of buzzards in the woods, and a dead blackbird's head and mass of feathers in the snow on New Year's Day suggested we'd been visited by a sparrowhawk in the early morning.

Looking after the snails

2010-12-11T20:28:00.002+01:00

So there I was last Sunday evening, washing the turnip tops ready for dinner, when I found a snail. Well, it happens. He seemed to have survived 24 hours in the fridge quite happily, and was clearly perking up, so I popped him on my spider plant while I decided what to do with him. And then I found another one ... and another one... and ...

By the time I'd finished I had five of them - and quite honestly had lost most of my desire for turnip tops that night. But what was I going to do with them? Temperatures outside were well below zero, and a quick look at the internet said that snails freeze if they haven't got themselves into a well-protected position before temperatures drop. And whilst one on the balcony chomping away at the plants probably wouldn't have done much harm (they were very small), I wasn't sure I wanted five of them running rampage for the whole winter.

So the snailery was born. A large glass vase covered with clingfilm with airholes punched in. And the five of them - Fred, George, Ron, Bill and Percy - have been happily chomping away on a basil plant, plus various vegetable peelings that I've popped in for them, for the past week.

OK, OK. Like my family you probably now have that expression on your face which says This time she's really flipped - but I am not alone. I have discovered a whole website dedicated to keeping snails as pets...

And oh dear - I find I have to get my act together. I've got to provide them with calcium, cook their carrots and potatoes, stock up with tortoise food in case I get snowed in and can't provide them with fresh greens, make sure they have somewhere to lay their eggs, protect them from mites ...

I'm not entirely sure whether I'm supposed to take them for regular walks - but I suppose come spring a few excursions on the balcony might be in order...

The Chrysanthemum Experiment - Results

2010-11-29T17:36:00.000+01:00

This year I've been experimenting with my chrysanthemums. I have some little yellow ones which I've been growing for years now. Every year I leave the old plants till early spring, and then take cuttings from the new growth. That's what all the books tell you to do, saying that the old plants will never produce such good blooms in subsequent years. Was it true? This year I decided to try it out.

If you click here, you'll find the posts I wrote in March (when I took the cuttings) and May (when they'd taken and it was time to "stop" all them in order to convince them to put out side shoots). But I've reproduced the photos to show you the main stages. I took cuttings, but didn't throw the old plants away. Instead I planted the cuttings in the same container, in between the older ones.

Why? well firstly to fill the gaps left by a couple that had died over the winter. But also to ensure that the soil, water, light and fertiliser conditions were identical for both sets of plants. As any primary school child will tell you, an experiment is only a "fair test" if one variable, and one only had been changed. In this case the variable was old plants vs cuttings. Everything else was identical.

Back in May, the new plants looked pretty puny in comparison with the old. But by the time autumn arrived, I could only remember which was which by going back to the spring photos to check.

By October they were covered in buds. Whichever won, it was going to be a good year. And, when the buds opened, it was immediately clear that...

... there was no difference at all. Both sets of plants are full of flowers, the flowers are all of the same size, and I can see no difference of any kind.

So will I be taking cuttings next year? Yes, certainly. But to increase the number of plants I have, not to replace the old ones. From now on, my chrysanths can go on for as long as they feel like it...

The Canal in Autumn

2010-11-28T12:30:00.003+01:00

This year's autumn colours were amazing - I don't remember ever having seen anything like it in this area. I imagine it was something to do with the weather - just the right amount of rain at the right time, just the right temperatures.... something like that.

But it was so beautiful, that one day we walked down the canal just to take some photos...

Most of the trees here turn yellow or brown - there are very few reds ...

Just a few ornamental maples that have been planted, and then this hydrangea that was peeking through the undergrowth...

The Virginia Creeper looked as if it knew it should be red, but was trying desperately to blend in with its surroundings..

And with yellows and browns like these around, who could blame it?

These aren't leaves, but seeds, sycamore type. Thousands and thousands of them.

We walked for a couple of hours...

And by the time we got back, it was almost dark.

Wildflower Wednesday - Bindweed

2010-11-24T19:46:00.004+01:00

Am I the only person in the world who loves Bindweed (Calystegia sepium, also called Convolvulus sepium)? Yes, I know it's a problem and just as invasive as my dreaded borage. For the same reason too - leave an smidgin of root behind when you pull it out, and it will grow back. Even the RHS site seems to give up and just recommend drowning it in glyphosate. I once saw the garden of an abandoned house which had been swamped by it. You literally couldn't see an inch of ground. But oh, was it glorious. Just a sea of white flowers.

So this is my contribution for Wildflower Wednesday, the brainchild of Gail over at Clay and Limestone. I've never participated before, but while I was on holiday in the Veneto in early September, I collected up a few wildflower photos to brighten up the winter months. And with temperatures predicted to drop to -4°C tonight, with snow tomorrow, I reckon it's time to start.

The flower in the photo is long dead - but never fear. Those roots are still there, hibernating under the sandy coastal soil. They'll be back again next year...

Who ordered that?

2010-11-21T19:04:00.003+01:00

What on earth are these and wherever did they come from? I noticed them first at the end of October - lots of little green shoots sprouting in the container that had held my Four o'clocks and a couple of Honesty. They were clearly bulbs, and there were about twenty of them, so no chance of them having self-seeded.

I've racked my brains and I have absolutely no memory of having planted bulbs in that container. If I did, they must have gone in at the beginning of spring, if not before. I don't actually remember planting any bulbs since last autumn. But what are they, and why have they come up now of all times of the year?

I did have a quick look round the container to see if there might be an old forgotten label lying around. But I know myself too well to have really believed I'd find one. Label the containers? Who me?

So it's wait and see time. Till next spring presumably, when with any luck there'll be some flowers. Oh well, only four months to go ...

Cloud

2010-11-11T13:00:00.001+01:00

Taken in early September while we were in the Veneto at Eraclea Mare. The cloud seemed to be hanging right over the path. You felt as if you could reach up and pull it down.

I've been meaning to post these photos for Skywatch Friday ever since we got back. The autumn has just flown ...

(Almost) Wordless Wednesday - Berries

2010-11-10T13:00:00.001+01:00

Pyracantha..

...and Hawthorn.

Both spotted at Eraclea Mare while we were on holiday there in September. They say a wealth of berries in autumn signals a hard winter to come. Dig out your woolly jumpers...

Some of the other contributors to Wordless Wednesday are a bit stricter about the wordless bit than me. Click on the link to check out their pics.

Skywatch Friday - Sweden

2010-11-04T19:57:00.001+01:00

Two weeks ago I was in southern Sweden. And the skies were tremendous.

I took these on the train from Copenhagen Airport to Lund, where I was working. And just as I put my camera away, a skein of about 60 Canadian geese flew overhead, migrating for the winter.

And of course, they'd gone before I could get the camera back out. Pity. That would really have been a photo worth posting for Skywatch Friday.

Cyclamen - Who Me?

2010-11-03T13:00:00.000+01:00

I decided not to buy any cyclamen this year. I lost all the ones I had in last year's hard winter, and decided I couldn't be bothered fussing with them again. It tends to be too hot in the house to keep them in flower, and there's not enough light, whereas outside I risk losing them as soon as temperatures drop. They also prefer slightly acidic conditions - a bother to maintain with the hard water we have here.

So I thought I'd give them a miss this winter. But then I saw these - and they were sooo pretty, I just had to bring them home.

A week later, I saw these...

At which point I thought I might as well get some red ones too...

Oh well, here's hoping for a warm winter.

November Again

2010-11-01T12:45:00.002+01:00

It's November, already. I'm not sure where the autumn has gone. I've been very busy with work - hence the scarcity of posts recently - including a great two days in Lund, in southern Sweden. I was hoping to meet up with Gittan, but it was such a flying visit that we couldn't match our schedules. Never mind, I loved Lund and hope to be back - I knew it was my sort of place when the first thing I saw on coming out of the station was a sign pointing to the botanical gardens.

There hasn't been much time for the balcony either, but some work has gone on. All the houseplants came back indoors a couple of weeks ago, just before the heating came on. They could have stayed out longer, as it was still relatively warm, but then when I finally did bring them in, there would have been a sudden huge increase in temperature. As it is, they all seem to have settled in well.

A few new plants have gone in - pansies, cyclamen and some new chrysanthemums ...

... and I've got some bulbs in too. Most of them are leftovers from last year and I'm not expecting them to do much. Must get some more.

I've also sown some sweet peas, despite the fact that I know the climate here is wrong for them and they never reach maturity. But each year I manage to convince myself that if I get them started in the autumn, they'll be in flower before the heat and humidity kick in and finish them off. We'll see. Anyway, the seeds were leftover from last year's futile attempt, so I thought I might as well stick them in and try again.

Apart from that, it's mainly been a case of clearing up the stuff from the summer, which is slowly dying off. And collecting the seeds for next year. My Four O'Clocks (Mirabilis Jalapa) were disappointing this year - the first year they've ever let me down. Usually they thrive. But I've saved what seeds there were...

Up to now the autumn has been mainly mild and sunny. But this weekend temperatures have dropped to 10-12°C during the day and it's not going to be long now before we hit the gardener's dreaded average daily temperature of 7°C. The temperature where growth stops and the least hardy specimens start to suffer. Oh well, the summer couldn't last forever I suppose. 175 days to spring, and counting...

Pumpkin Soup for Hallowe'en

2010-10-31T18:47:00.000+01:00

Yes, I know I'm the only person left in the world who still puts an apostrophe in Hallowe'en, but then I even use full words and capital letters in my SMSs...

It's crept up on me unawares this year. It's not an Italian tradition, and until recently passed unobserved. But then about ten years ago pumpkins started appearing in the shops at the end of October, as well as other Hallowe'en themed goods.

Until this year. Suddenly nothing. Not a pumpkin in sight, no witches, ghosties and ghouls... Nothing. Is it because shopkeepers found it hadn't caught on enough to make it profitable? Or have the Catholic church's criticisms put people off? Not sure.

Oh well. Even if I've not seen any Hallowe'en pumkins in the shops, there are plenty of the edible kind around. And last night I made a pumpkin soup that came out so well that I thought I'd share the recipe - which I rather made up as I went along, so apologies if the quantities are a bit approximate.

You need :

1 medium size onion
1 leek
Olive oil
Butter
A hot pepper (optional)
Half a pumpkin
A few potatoes
A handful of borlotti beans
Vegetable or chicken stock
Curry powder (optional)
A handful of peas
Milk

1. Add the oil and the butter to a heavy bottomed pan and place over a medium heat.

2. Peel and chop the onion and the leek. Add to the pan and fry for a couple of minutes. Then cover, turn down the heat and let them "sweat" - ie they should cook slowly in the oil/butter and their own liquid, turning transparent without browning.

3. If you want to add in the hot pepper, chop and add it at this point. I did - mainly because I wanted to use the pepper's I'd grown on the balcony this summer. But I'm not a great fan of hot peppers, so I think in future I'd omit it. I felt it swamped the other flavours rather. Decide depending on your palate.

4. Meanwhile, peel and dice the pumpkin and the potatoes. Add them to the pan once the leeks and onions seem transparent, and fry for a couple of minutes - keep them covered and turn them occasionally.

5. Add the stock. I nearly always have home-made stock in the freezer, which I swear by as the base of any soup, but yesterday I found I didn't. So I added cold water and sprinkled in a vegetable stock cube. It worked.

6. While the stock is still cold, add the pumpkin, potatoes and borlotti beans. I used fresh beans, but if you use dry you'll need to have soaked them for at least eight hours previously. If you use canned (not advised) drain and rinse them first to get rid of the salt. At this point it should look like this ...

7. Add a small amount of curry powder - again this depends on how much you like it. If you're turning your nose up at the idea of ready mixed curry powder, it probably means you're into Indian spices and can produce a much better blend yourself. Feel free.

8. Simmer for about 45 minutes - or until the beans are cooked. Then tip the lot into a blender and blend until smooth.

9. Tip it back into the pan and add the peas (I used frozen). Simmer until cooked.

10. Add the milk, and salt and pepper to taste. Cook over a low heat (don't boil) for another few minutes.

11. Don a witch's or wizard' hat and enjoy with some good crusty bread.

Even with the pepper it was great, and I'm looking forward to trying it again without.

Happy Hallowe'en.

Sacrificial Mint??

2010-10-10T19:58:00.000+02:00

If there's one thing that has done well for me this year, it's these little peppers. They were an impulse buy - I found them as plug plants in a supermarket and just threw them into the trolley along with some tomatoes that I really wanted.

They weren't quite what I expected. I have to admit to having looked too quickly at the label and thought I was buying big, sweet peppers. But when I got home and read it properly - no, they were small, hot peppers.

Now, we don't usually like hot peppers, so I was more interested in them for their ornamental value than anything else. And have they paid off. They've been green and glossy all summer and are now covered in bright red fruit, which looks great against the green walls of the flat.

And unlike virtually everything else I've grown, they've not been touched by sap sucking insects or red spider mite this year. Apart from a bit of caterpillar damage, they're just about the healthiest plants I've got.

Is that because the bugs don't like them? No. These two plants came in a group of four, and the other two went on the front balcony with the tomatoes. And the insects just dived in and munched. They didn't last much past flowering.

So why the difference? The only thing I can point to is this.

Mint, growing at the bottom of the peppers. Or at least, it was.

Back in the summer I wrote a post on companion planting. Some plants will repel insects, thus protecting any other plants growing nearby. Mint is supposed to be one of them.

Now, I ask you - does this look like a plant that has repelled insects? Huh - they've had a feast.

Rather than repelling the insects, it seems to have acted as a sacrificial plant. They've enjoyed the mint so much (and believe me, a while back there was a lot more of it) that they've left the peppers alone.

Well, that's the theory. I can't find confirmation anywhere that mint should attract pests. Every website I've found so far solemnly assures me that insects can't bear it. They've clearly never met ours.

In any case, I know what's going to be growing between all my other plants next year. it's going to be tomatoes and mint, surfinia and mint, roses and mint, hollyhocks and mint, beans and mint, potatoes and mint, honesty and mint, jerusalem artichokes and mint, zinnia and mint, peas and mint, black-eyed Susans and mint, lettuce and mint, morning glory and mint, sunflowers and mint, delphiniums and mint, marigolds and mint, cosmos and mint, calendula and mint, poppies and mint, rosemary and mint, antirrhinums and mint, radishes and mint, alyssum and mint ....

So should you hear people complaining of a mint shortage in North Italy around about the beginning of May 2011, please don't tell ...

Autumn has arrived...

2010-10-02T14:30:00.003+02:00

Autumn has arrived on the balcony ...

We had a stupendous September. Warm and sunny, but without the oppressive heat and humidity of summer. In terms of weather, it was the nicest month I remember for a long time. But now it's October, and there are clear signs that the summer has gone for good ..

The flowers of the annuals are just a memory. Their containers are already stripped and bare, waiting for the winter bulbs to go in ..

On the Four O'Clocks, seeds have replaced the flowers, and are ready to be collected.

The peppers are ripening fast ...

And the winter flowering pansies have gone in. They may not look much now, but they'll provide the odd flower right through the dark months, and then in spring will suddenly explode again into a riot of colour. Definitely a flower no balcony should be without...

But much sooner than that, the chrysanthemums will be in flower. They're full of buds ...

Bye bye summer. Time to get the winter woollies out again.

Wordless Wednesday : Pine

2010-09-29T17:38:00.006+02:00

I've never participated in Wordless Wednesday before. But this one seemed worth it. Taken in the pinewoods at Eraclea Mare. Click on it to enlarge it.

Death of a Squirrel

2010-09-26T12:19:00.002+02:00

We were back in Eraclea Mare on holiday this year, and one of the things I noticed was the exponential growth in the number of squirrels around. I posted two years ago about the little brown one I'd seen in the trees a couple of times, but last year I'd seen none. Then this year they were everywhere. The hotel owner confirmed that he too had never seen so many around.

And interestingly, it wasn't just the little brown ones. If you go back to the post of two years ago, you'll see that I said that the "red" squirrels we'd seen at Eraclea were brown with a white belly. And they get darker as you get further south. They're all the same species but three different subspecies - Sciurus vulgaris fuscoater (which I think were the ones we saw) in the north; S.v italicus which are found in central Italy and S.v meridionalis, the black ones in the south.

But even within the subspecies there is a lot of variation of coat colour, and unlike before, this year there were both browns and reds all over the place.

When we're on holiday, my son and I play tennis every evening. Don't ask who wins, because I'm not going to go into that ... But anyway, at the end of the court, there's a hazelnut tree. And every time we played, the game was interrupted three or four times by a cry of Squirrel on court! by whoever was facing towards the tree. They'd run down the side of the court, zap up the tree, grab a nut, and then run back straight down the centre line.

We called them Brownie and Ginger, presuming it was the same pair each time - though who knows. And there were evenings when more squirrel photographing was done than tennis. But then, at my age, any excuse for a pause in a game is a good one...

They were one of the highlights of the holiday. And a very positive sign, as most reports say that the red squirrels in Italy are being threatened by the advance of the greys in the same way as happened in Britain. Nice to know that in one area at least, numbers are increasing.

The last day of the holidays came, we checked out of the hotel and walked up to the bus stop where we'd get the bus back to Venice in order to pick up our train. When we got there, I realised I'd made a mistake. I'd looked at the summer timetable, not realising that it had changed the day before we left, and the bus we thought we were going to catch was no longer running. We had about forty minutes to wait, so as we sat there we started playing I Spy to while away the time.

I'd just said R-S- (thinking Road Sign) when Anthony said Red Squirrel. And sure enough, there was a red squirrel rushing down a tree on one side of the road, scampering across and whizzing up a tree on the other side.

We watched him for a while, and then went on playing - until Anthony suddenly said RRS - Radioactive Red Squirrel. Even I didn't realise what had happened for a moment. The squirrel was in the middle of the road, lying on its back and twisting and squirming horrendously. For a couple of seconds I thought it was trying to rub its back against the asphalt - but then it was obvious - it had been hit by a car.

We hadn't seen the car - but the occasional car had passed and we hadn't really been looking. I would like to think that the driver hadn't seen the squirrel and hadn't realised what had happened. But I wonder ...

I ran over. The squirrel was in the middle of the road and if I'd left him there he'd have been squashed by the next car that passed. Perhaps it would have been the kindest thing, but I couldn't do it. I picked him up - gingerly, and holding firmly to the scruff of his neck with one hand, so he couldn't turn and bite.

But he wasn't even thinking of defending himself. He just lay cupped in my hands, not even seeming scared. He was a young male, and had the softest fur I've ever felt on any animal.

It was clear that he was paralysed from about half way down his spine, and I wanted to put him out of his misery. I put my fingers around his neck to try to break it. You'd think it would be easy, but believe me, it's not. His neck was so unexpectedly thick and solid that I was terrified of just torturing him further, and couldn't do it.

By now he could hardly move at all. He could still slightly wave his front paws, but the frantic twisting that we'd seen when he was in the road had gone. I laid him down in the shade of a tree, where he just lay still, his eyes slightly glazed over. But every few minutes he would suddenly draw in a deep breath and then let out a whimper which rent my heart.

Twenty minutes later, he was dead. I don't know how much he suffered. The paralysis, which seemed to have been progressive, should have meant that there was no pain. I hope so.

But I was numb all the way back to Milan. It wasn't just for his death - these things happen. But I have never felt so powerless, so out of control. We were in a tiny village where there was no vet. Even if I'd known where the nearest one was, we had no car to get there - and anyway, it was likely that I didn't have the time to do anything. I knew that I should have broken his neck there and then but couldn't do it. I felt so guilty.

I don't want it ever to happen again. I've even used Google to try and find out how to break an animal's neck, so I'll be prepared if it ever happens again. But I couldn't find anything that helped.

Sleep well, little squirrel. I hope by now you're scampering around in a heaven full of hazelnut trees, and have forgotten that last half hour. But I won't - ever.

How do you water your plants when you're on holiday?

2010-09-06T12:05:00.001+02:00

If you garden on a balcony where the rain never reaches, going on holiday means you have to find some way of getting water to the plants when you're gone. There are lots of possibilities - get a plant sitter, buy those special gels that dissolve into the soil providing moisture, get an automatic watering system - but they've all got disadvantages.

Plant sitters first of all. Unless they're really gardeners, they tend to overwater - so you come back to drowned plants sitting in saucers of water. I know - I've tried that one. And unless they're friends or relatives who you can do the same for while they're away, you have to pay them. And that can work out expensive.

So do the gels. They work - I've used them in the past. But at €3 a tub, they're really only an option if you have the odd houseplant. I worked out that I'd need seventy of them to do the whole balcony...

Then there are those systems where you have a water container with capillary matting or tubes running into the pots. Again, less feasible if you have a lot of plants spread out over three long balconies as I do.

Then this year I found these. Ceramic spikes that fit into an ordinary mineral water bottle. Turn them upside down and the water slowly permeates through. I bought a couple, and they do work - on my "test run" I gave the plants no other water for ten days, with temperatures between 25-30°C (77-86°F) each day. They were fine, and the bottle was still a third full at the end. So they could easily have gone on for a fortnight.

But again they're hideously expensive - €7 for two, and I needed seventy. So I tried Amazon and found something similar (though not quite so classy). Plastic spikes that release the water drip by drip.

They're still not giving them away. But unlike the gels, you've only got to buy them once, and can reuse them again and again. Which means that the initial outlay is a bit less painful to contemplate.

The only real disadvantage if you want to use them in quantity, is that you have to save and store bottles for months before you leave. We were getting to the point that every time you opened a cupboard a score of plastic bottles would fall out...

When I went on holiday, the balcony looked as if I was running a bottle farm. But who cares - I wasn't there to look at it.

If you want to try them...

The Tree of Heaven ... or Hell?

2010-09-03T14:46:00.001+02:00

I love this tree, particularly at this time of year when the red seed pods glow against the green of the leaves. This one is growing on the canal close to home. But wherever you are in this area you don't have to look far to find it. Usually though it looks like this...

It is one of the most invasive plants I know of. It seeds itself everywhere - including in the containers on the balcony. I pull out two or three every year. And as soon as a piece of ground is left undisturbed for aseason, up pop swathes of the young trees. Our local railway line is lines with them on both sides of the track, not a centimetre of space between them.
What are they? Ailanthus altissima, also known as Swingle or the Tree of Heaven - a reference to its height, which can reach 25m. But for anyone trying to keep it from taking over their land, a more appropriate name would probably be the Tree of Hell.

Other plants must think so too. They don't have a chance - it not only reproduces so rapidly because of the huge numbers of seeds produced, but also because it produces a chemical which inhibits the growth of other plants (1). Some trees just don't play fair.

If you've been looking at the photos and thinking But isn't that some sort of sumac? No, it isn't. Whilst the leaves look very similar, they are actually two different species. Not sure what you've got? Well, they say that if you break of a leaf of ailanthus, it smells bad. I tried it this morning ...

The leaf I picked came from this one. Last year as I was hoicking the self-sown seedlings out, I took pity on him and potted him up. He's been attacked by something in the past couple of weeks (a fungus??) and I've had to pull various of the leaves off, so while I was at it I had a quick sniff.

I couldn't smell anything, but then it's common knowledge that when the sense of smell was being given out, I was standing way out of line...

Introduced into Italy in 1760, as an ornamental plant, Ailanthus has now largely taken over in many areas. A report produced by the Italian Ministry of the Environment together with various other institutions (2) gives a detailed description of ten of the most invasive plants in the country. Of those ten, Ailanthus altissima is the only one shown as present in every single region in Italy.

And it's not just in Italy. It's become a pest throughout much of Europe. When I was in London this summer I noticed them growing in the park at the back of the house - somewhere I'd never noticed them before. They weren't very tall, but they were maturing fast. Once they start to seed, there'll be no stopping them.

And they're right behind the garden.

References

1. Ailanthus altissima - Wikipedia
2. Plant Invasion in Italy - An overview

A Matter of Space

2010-09-01T16:20:00.002+02:00

Earlier in the year I blogged about how much difference it had made to my wallflower seedlings whether I'd kept them growing in small pots or had planted them straight into their final containers. You can see what happened here, but basically the seedlings in small pots, with restricted space for their roots grew much better.

But there's an irony here - because potting seedlings in this way may mean less space for them - but having a multitude of individual pots lined up takes up far more space on the balcony. And when you're balcony gardening, space is at a premium.

So when my next batch of seedlings was ready to be pricked out, I hit on an alternative.

Some of them went into small pots, but then those pots went into a larger container and the spaces between then were filled with soil. And more seedlings went into the spaces, their growing room equally restricted by the walls of the pots around them.

It's worked a treat. If anything, some of the seedlings in the spaces between the pots have done even better than those in them.

Soon I'll be moving them to their final containers. But even here there's an advantage. The seedlings in the spaces won't have to be moved at all. I shall simply take out the pots and leave them where they are. So no disturbance to the roots at all. And where the pots have been taken away, I'll have neat "pot-sized" holes, where I can pop in other plants to add variety - again meaning minimum root disturbance.

It's been an experiment that really paid off, and one that I'll certainly be repeating in future.

Coypu

2010-08-30T17:44:00.001+02:00

Now that the summer is showing signs of waning and the city is cooling down, I've been venturing out again occasionally for a walk. We were walking along the Martesana canal (1) last week, and talking about the ducks and moorhens, which seem to be more plentiful than usual this year, when someone said to us : Excuse me but do you know what that animal over there is?

Animal? On the Martesana? Apart from the occasional infestation of rats which the Council soon steps in to deal with, I've never seen any sign of wildlife on the canal. But yes, there they were - two little Coypu (2) happily going about their business on the far bank.

The coypu (Myocastor coypus)is widespread in Europe. A relative of the beaver, they're originally native to S. America, but are bred for their fur (and sometimes their meat, which is very low in cholesterol). Animals which have escaped from the fur farms have gradually colonised the continent. They are usually considered a pest - here in the north of Italy for the damage they do to the rice crops (Lombardy is the most important rice producing area in Europe) - but elsewhere for a range of reasons ranging from the destruction of other crops such as sugar beet, to the damage their burrow do to river banks, to the threat they pose to other species because of their impact on the environment (3).

But I'd never seen them, or even heard of them, in Milan. And I'd never noticed them on the Martesana before. True, I'd not been there very much for a couple of years - the canal path was closed while they built a new railway bridge for the high speed lines and, as always what was meant to take a matter of months went on .. and on... and on.

A quick bit of research on the net solved the mystery. It's all the fault of the recession.

When the recession hit, people stopped buying fur coats (at least one positive result, then). And rather than pay to have the animals put down, the fur farms often just released them. A few found their way to the Martesana and the population has been steadily increasing ever since.

And wow, has it been increasing. From nothing two years ago, the canal is now overrun by them. We didn't notice that day, but as I didn't have my camera with me (you never do when you want it, do you?) we went back the next day to try and get some pictures. Not that I had much hope - I was convinced that they'd have disappeared.

No way - as we walked down the canal, I estimate that we saw a pair every three or four hundred yards - and we walked for about two hours. I was amazed at just how quickly they'd established themselves.

So there you go - my London garden has its urban foxes, and here in Milan I've got coypu in the back yard. Almost like living in the country.

References

1. The Martesana Canal
2. Coypu
3. Global Invasive Species Database

Growing Avocados

2010-08-28T12:55:00.006+02:00

This summer, I've been growing avocados. Not a great challenge - they're dead easy. The question is, whether they're worth it.

Avocados are a rain forest plant. They've evolved to survive as seedlings under a canopy of leaves which blocks out the light. How do they manage? By putting all their energy in to growing as tall as possible as quickly as possible to reach the light. Result - a tall, spindly plant with a long thin stem and a cluster of large leaves at the top. Not desperately attractive as a houseplant or balcony plant. I've had them before and, quite honestly, they ended up looking dreadful.

But I thought I'd see that I'd try again and see if I could keep them lower and bushier. How ? First of all by making sure they have plenty of light, so they don't feel the need to become ganglier than necessary. But I've started off two pots, and they're each going to get slightly different treatment.

Pot number one (top photo) contains seeds that were started off at different times - the tallest went in at the beginning of the summer, the last one yesterday. Starting from now with the two tallest, I shall pinch out the growing tips to encourage them to spread. And I shall start pinching when each one is slightly smaller than the one ahead of it. That way I'm hoping to get bushy growth at different levels - the lower ones masking the spindly trunks of those which are taller. Well, that's the theory...

Pot number two has three seeds. They've just gone in, and as they grow I shall braid the trunks just as you often see done with Ficus benjamin. I'm hoping they'll eventually fuse together (as Ficus benjamin does). But in any case, the effect should be less height (because each trunk has been wound around the others), an apparently thicker "single" central trunk, and a mass of leaves on top. Again, that's the theory. While I can find plenty of advice on growing avocados on the web, and also plenty of advice on braiding other trees, no-one seems to have thought of putting the two together. Or perhaps they have and it just doesn't work. We shall see ...

If you want to grow them, use a fresh seed - plant it almost as soon as you eat the fruit. Let the brown outer coat dry and peel it off. Then just pop the seed into some fertile soil, broad side down and with its nose just showing above the soil level. Keep the seeds moist (not soggy) and wait. Forget all that stuff about sticking toothpicks into them and suspending them over water - would you like toothpicks pushed into your tenderer parts? Just plant them in the pots and keep them warm - I've seen around 20°C (70°F) recommended, but mine have zoomed up this year in temps of around 27°-35°C (77°-90°F). They are rainforest plants, after all.

Then you need to be be patient. It will seem for the first month or so that nothing's happening. Not true - they're developing long thick roots. This is one that I pulled up yesterday because after waiting for weeks and just seeing it get drier and harder, I did decide it had died. But you can see that a long root had already formed before it gave up.

So wait. And then, sometime in the second month, you'll see that the top of the seed has split, and very soon the stem and the first leaves will be poking through. And growing at a rate of knots. Keep them moist (but again, never waterlogged) and feed regularly with a fertiliser containing balanced nitrogen, phosphorus and potassium and also zinc.

Size can also be controlled by trimming the roots annually and keeping them in a small pot, but the size of the leaves means that they're not really suitable for bonsai treatment. Huge leaves on a tiny tree would just look daft. There are dwarf varieties, but I don't think you're likely to find them in your local supermarket.

Avocados are not hardy. Once the temperature drops below 7°C (45°F) they need to come inside - which may become a problem if they do get really big. Cold may also kill the seeds too, so don't store the fruit in the fridge before you plant.

But then, you wouldn't be silly enough to put fruit in the fridge and destroy all the vitamins anyway, would you? And avocado has lots - it contains vitamins A, some of the B group, C and E and is also full of minerals : it has three times more potassium than a banana, weight for weight, as well as calcium, iron, magnesium and phosphorus. And despite it's high fat content, it's mostly mono-unsaturated fats and is low in cholesterol. (1) What more do you want?

Sadly, though, the only avocados you get to eat as a result of growing them may be the ones you buy in order to get the seeds. Sources differ as to how long it takes a tree grown from seed to bear fruit - around ten years seems to be the average estimate (2), but some websites put it at as long as twenty. Don't think our local supermarket need feel too threatened ...

References

1. The California Avocado Commission
2. Flower and Garden Tips

Feeding the Foxes

2010-08-26T11:26:00.001+02:00

I hadn't been home in London for ten minutes last month when one of the local foxes came to visit. I'd gone out to see how the garden was and we came face to face as I turned around the hebe bush. He ran off about twenty yards to the compost heap, and then looked back over his shoulder with a look that quite clearly said What are YOU doing in MY garden? before disappearing into the park behind the house.

He looked a bit scraggy, and so for the ten days that I was there I put some dog food out each evening at about the same time.

I've blogged before about whether it's a good idea to feed urban foxes, and I think if I was there permanently my answer would be no. Not regularly anyway. However, when I'm visiting I admit that I can't resist the temptation of watching them every evening.

Not that it's that easy to feed foxes. In fact, you have to be prepared for quite a challenge. The first bit's easy - you just wait till evening, plonk the food down and go inside to wait at the bedroom window, where you can see but not be seen, camera at the ready. And then the fun starts...

First you have to chase off all the neighbourhood cats and convince them that they really don't want to eat your scraps, or dog food, or whatever it is you've put out that evening, and that there's bound to be something much nicer waiting for them at home. By the time you've done that, you've run downstairs to the garden at least five times. But getting rid of them just means the coast is now clear for the heavy mob to move in...

And before long word has got round the whole neighbourhood that there's a party on. Gatecrashers arrive from all directions...

However, finally, the dog fox arrives. He eats precisely half of what's there and then leaves, peeing on your roses as he goes (gee thanks). Sainsbury's dog food not good enough for him?

No - he's just left half for the vixen, who arrives ten minutes later. How do I know it's not just the dog fox just come back? Look at the tails. And how do I know which is the dog fox and which the vixen? I told you - the dog fox pees on the roses...

And who's this? One of the young maybe? Seems in considerably better form than his father - look at that nice glossy coat. Though, in fact, all of them look much healthier than in previous years. Perhaps I'm not the only one in the neighbourhood who invests in Sainsbury's dog food when they haven't got a dog ...

It's been a long, hot summer...

2010-08-24T16:33:00.001+02:00

It's been a long summer. July was unbearably hot and humid - well, unbearable for me anyway. I have naturally low blood pressure, and in the summer here it nose-dives to somewhere around my ankles. I just wilt. My husband, who has the opposite problem, suddenly perks up. Ah well, you can't please all of the people all of the time...

I finally managed to escape to England for a fortnight, hoping for a cooler climate and expecting to find the garden overgrown again.

But no. The heat they'd had there too meant that the grass had hardly grown and the weeds were nothing like when I'd gone back in April. There was still plenty to do - it took me a day's work to trim the hedge, and there's still borage to fight against - but even there I think I'm winning. Almost all of it seemed to be this year's growth, and relatively easy to pull up. Still the odd plant growing off long, thick taproots, but after two years fighting, I'm gradually getting somewhere. I've managed to stop it going to seed this year too, which will help - though I have few illusions. There must be enough seeds scattered around from past years to last for eternity. But all in all it wasn't bad. It's not going to make garden of the year, but neither does it look totally neglected any more. The hebe was wonderful - and, I'm pleased to say, full of butterflies - and the hydrangeas were as wonderful as ever.

Some of the things I'd planted last year and this spring were in bloom too - the lavender is doing really well, some of the nasturtium seeds I'd scattered had come up, and there were marigolds and petunias blooming their heads off all over the place. I even managed to harvest a handful of runner beans to bring back. Not bad for a garden left almost entirely to its own devices.

Back on the balcony in Milan though, its been a different story. Hardly anything seems to have done well this year, no matter how much tender loving care it's received. The pelargoniums ar fine - there's still been no sign of the Geranium Bronze Butterfly this year - and the plumbago has been pretty, but there have been years when we've had far more flowers and much larger blooms ....

And as for the rest... Even the Four o'clocks (Mirabilis Jalapa) have been sick and weedy, and they're usually a stalwart. I noticed something was wrong quite early on. I'd planted a lot of seeds, but very few came up - unusual for a plant which tends to be invasive. And those which did looked thin and weedy. And then, a couple of weeks ago I noticed that they'd been attacked by red spider mite - unheard of. If there's a plant which I've always said didn't succumb to pests, is was the Four o'clocks - the main reason I grow them is because they're still there when everything else has been killed off. They're currently still hanging on, but by now they should be in flower, and there's not so much as a bud.

The seeds I'd planted were some that I'd collected last summer. They came from vigorous, healthy plants and I was expecting a great display. It was a lemony-yellow variety which I'd never seen before, and very attractive - much more so that the pinky ones I've grown in the past. I didn't plant any of those this year, and now regret it - because the only plant I do have in flower is one which self-seeded from last year's plants. And yes, he's doing well - but looking a bit sad all on his own in his pot. Four o'clocks really need to be planted in clumps to be really impressive.

After the first week or so, August cooled down and most days we now have pleasantly warm temperatures in the mid-twenties, going up to twenty nine or thirty occasionally, but never over. Like the balcony, I'm slowly feeling less wilted and getting back to real life. And to work, and to blogging. I've just not had the energy for the last couple of months. I have gone on taking photos though, and if I can claw back enough enthusiasm to get them written, posts should be appearing regularly from now on. Fingers crossed ....

Heron

2010-07-26T20:05:00.001+02:00

It has been so hot here. Daytime temperatures have been up in the high 30°s C (97°F+), with humidity at around 50% plus. One night at 3.30am when I couldn't sleep, I checked and the temperature in the house was 31°C (88°F) and the humidity had reached 86%. Plants have been wilting fast, and so have people. We daren't open the windows at night because of the mosquitoes (including tiger mosquitoes) and so fans and air-conditioning have placed such a strain on the electricity supply, that blackouts have been frequent.

The only time that it has been possible to consider doing anything active has been around dawn (anti-mosquito lotion having been applied.) So just as it got light one day last week, Anthony and I grabbed the bikes and headed for the Parco Nord.

We weren't the only ones with the same idea - joggers, dog-walkers and other cyclists were out in force, despite the time of day. But not enough to frighten off the wildlife, which was also taking advantage of the few hours respite from the heat. We headed for the ponds, where we saw moorhens, turtles, shoals of fish, swallows and this grey heron.

We got quite close, and he didn't seem too fazed. But then he must have decided that enough was enough, and took off ...

Lombardy has two types of heron - the large Grey Heron that we saw, and the Little Egret - a smaller type, completely white in colour. Both types are fairly common in Europe (as well as Africa and Asia), but because Lombardy is an important rice growing region (the largest in Europe), they are particularly common here. They hunt in shallow water and, whether near rivers, canals, ponds,or flooded rice fields, both types are fairly easy to spot wading through the water in search of the frogs and fish that are their main prey.

I don't think I've ever seen one quite so close up though.

Bees

2010-07-18T17:50:00.004+02:00

I said in my last post that there didn't seem to be many butterflies around this year, either here in Milan or in my garden in London. Well, for bees Milan is just the same - I've not seen any this year. The hard winter again, or more problems of colony collapse disorder?

But when I was in London I was pleased to see that they were absolutely everywhere - and snapped away like crazy taking photos.

There were some honeybees (at least I think that's what this one is)...

But the vast majority were bumblebees. Which made me realise that I didn't really know very much about bees at all. How many types were there? What were the differences ? I knew that honeybees lived in colonies but that there were also solitary bees. What was the difference? How did you recognise them? And where do the bumblebees fit in? Were they social or solitary? And was CCD affecting all types of bees or just the honeybees?

So I did some research - and found some excellent websites, which are listed below. I'm not going to regurgitate it all, but I was surprised to find out that in the UK alone there are some 300 different species of bee - about 270 of which are solitary.

Solitary bees make a nest by burrowing into soil, soft brick or whatever. The female then gathers pollen and nectar, forms it into a patty, pops it into the far end of the burrow, lays a single egg on top and then seals that section of the burrow up before doing the same in the next bit - and so on up to the end. The very last egg is always male (bees have this strange ability to decide the sex of their children). The eggs hatch, and the larvae consume the food left for them and then pupate. The pupae all hatch at the same moment but the male, being closest to the exit, is the first to burrow his way out. He then waits for his sisters, mates with them, and the whle thing starts all over again. All a bit incestuous, but there you are.

So how do you identify a solitary bee? Well, by Googling them, obviously. I think this may be one ...

... and possibly this one too. Or is it just some sort of fly desperately trying to pretend he's terribly fierce?

Bombus bumblebees, on the other hand, are social and live in colonies. Unlike the honeybees, however, they don't store large quantities of food and all but the young already fertilised queens will die off in the winter. The queens hibernate and then in the spring secrete beeswax to form little cups which they fill with nectar and pollen, laying an egg in each one. As the new workers reach maturity, they start to collect food for the later-hatched larvae. But having only one season in which to form, the colonies remain quite small - whilst a honeybee colony may contain up to 70,000 individuals, bumblebee colonies rarely exceed about 300 and are often smaller.

But what I didn't realise was that there are nine species of Bombus bumblebee in the UK, some very common others quite rare. What were mine? To me, they all looked quite different. This one seemed to fit the description of the most common British type - the Buff-tailed Bumble bee. But the others? The colouring and stripes didn't sem to match. So I sent a few photos off to the Bumblebee Conservation trust (see below) for identification. Would I find that my garden was a home to rare bees?

Nah... the answer came back after a couple of days. All common as muck Buff Tailers.

Except for one. So far there has been no answer for the little one below who I found happily feeding off my borage. Could the delay be because I've discovered something rare? Doubt it. More likely that you just can't see enough from the photo to tell. My own suspicion is that this is not a Bombus bumblebee but a Psithyrus or cuckoo bumblebee - there are six species but don't ask me which this is. These are sneaky. They lay their eggs in the nests of the Bombus bumblebees and let them do all the work. You can tell the difference between the Bombus and Psithyrus bumblebees by looking at their legs. The cuckoos don't need to store food for their larvae and so don't have pollen sacs on their legs - sacs which you can see clearly in the photos of some of the Buff Tailers in the other photos, but which don't seem to be present here.

Will I be right? We'll see. If I get an answer I'll add it in the comment box below. But in case they don't get back to me - any bumblebee experts out there?

Read some more

Bumblebee Conservation Trust Bumblebee Identification
Natural History Museum Bumblebee Identification Guide
The British Bee Keepers Association : bees4kids - The Importance of Bees
Watanabe, M. Colony Collapse Disorder : Many Suspects, No Smoking Gun

Butterflies - the bad news, the good news

2010-07-11T16:58:00.001+02:00

A whole post about butterflies and four photos without a butterfly in sight? Unfortunately, that's the point. I've hardly seen any this year.

Have you got butterflies in your gardens at the moment? When I was in London at the beginning of June I didn't see one, and here in Milan they are still very few and far between, despite the fact that there's plenty on the balcony to attract them. In the last week I've seen one or two fluttering around, but so far there's been no caterpillar damage at all - whereas by the beginning of June the hollyhock are usually lacy with holes and the caterpillarium is swarming with inhabitants munching their way through anything I've put in there.

Bad news. You may not like the caterpillars chomping at your prize flowers and veg, but they're an essential part of the ecosystem. Birds eat caterpillars, especially when they're raising their chicks, and the adult butterflies - apart from being a beautiful addition to the garden - are pollinators. Not the best maybe, but they play their part. No pollinators? No plants next year.

So why have they disappeared? I suspect it was the particularly hard winter we had. Here in Milan it went down to - 14°C one night. That's less than 7°F.

Butterflies either hibernate in the winter, or over-winter in chrysalis form. But I suspect that with temperatures that cold, a lot just didn't make it.

Which brings me to the good news. One type that I've not seen at all on the balcony this year is the dreaded Geranium Bronze Butterfly (Cacyreus Marshalli), which attacks both geraniums and pelargoniums and usually starts being a problem in May.

I'd decided not to bother with pelargoniums of any sort at all this year. Over the last couple of years I'd lost all those that I had to the GBB. It started slowly, with a couple being killed off each year, but then each year it got worse and worse, until not only had all the plants I'd had for years been destroyed but also any that I bought new would be dead within a couple of months. So no more, I said. The only way to solve the problem is not to buy them. And I didn't. Well, not for the house anyway. But for the office, I couldn't resist ...

And they're fine. No sign of public enemy number two (number one is red spider mite - and even that has not been quite so virulent as usual this year). They're thriving, keep bursting into flower and making me wish I'd bought more.

GBB is native of South Africa, so the idea that they couldn't survive the excessive cold does make sense. Hurray - perhaps that will check their advance through southern Europe a bit.

There is another possibility though. It could just be that they have hidden interests that entomologists have never suspected. And so they've all gone home to watch the football ...

Spiders

2010-06-30T17:35:00.005+02:00

If you are an arachnophobe - that is, if you suffer from fear of spiders - DON'T SCROLL DOWN. There are photos that you might not like.

But then, I guess that the average gardener can't be too worried. You can't move a leaf without seeing them, especially at certain times of the year.

I have to say I love them. OK, place one of the really poisonous types on my hand and I might freeze. But for the danger, not because it's a spider. In our house, the yell,of "Call Mum - there's a spider in the bath" occurs frequently.

All right - you've been warned, and I hope there's enough text for the photos not to appear above the fold, so that anyone who hates them will have disappeared by now. But just in case we'll start with the least spidery.

What, I wondered when I was at home in England, were these little yellow balls sitting in my front garden hedge. To the naked eye they just looked like blobs. It wasn't difficult to guess though, and when I blew the photo up - baby spiders!

Whose babies, I wondered. I didn't notice any adult golden-black striped spiders in the garden, but I looked them up and Araneus diadematus seems to match. According to my book on British wildlife, it's supposed to be the most common British garden spider, so I'll go for that.

Not sure about this slightly out of focus but hugely pregnant lady. I know how she feels - I was once hugely pregnant in the June heat too. But haven't been able to identify her so far - ??

By far the most common type of spider in the garden seemed to be a small one with a green abdomen and dark legs. Possibly Araniella cucurbitina ?? But the legs seemed darker. They never stuck around long enough for me to take a photo. How many spiders are there in Britain, I wonder? Or in Italy ? I rarely seem to see them here in the city. And in the whole world?

The last type I saw was, potentially, much more scary. This is what my mother used to call a cob - though what the difference between cobs and spiders is (if there is any), I don't know. And I've not found a really similar picture. But she just sat there at the base of the compost heap while I rushed in to get my camera. So I doubt if she had any really evil intentions ...

Before and after - but mainly after

2010-06-27T19:48:00.005+02:00

Oh, when you stop blogging for a while, how difficult it is to get started again. I had a good excuse in the beginning - I was too busy gardening. At the beginning of June I went back to London for a fortnight. I had a couple of days work to do there, but the rest of the time was dedicated to sorting the garden out. I had my laptop with me, but the long evenings were too tempting - it seemed better to be doing it than blogging about it.

But then I came back. Must get a post up. But somehow it didn't happen the first weekend, and then the following week got taken up with work. And the same the week after.

So there we are - four weeks without a post. Will I ever be able to hold my head up on the internet again without shame? Will I find myself drummed out of the ranks of garden bloggers? Maybe - but not having time to blog has also meant I've not had time to catch up with other people. And if it redeems me just a tiny bit, I have to say I've missed you all ...

One of the reasons I didn't blog in the early days I was in London was that I couldn't face another what-a-mess-my-garden-is post. It was, of course. The borage was thriving, the grass on the lawn was knee-high and goose grass was smothering everything. The roses had blackspot and if London snails were edible, I would have been able to open a restaurant.

But amongst all the weeds and chaos, there were also bright spots ...

I curse the pyracantha hedge every time I have to cut it. But I have to admit it's glorious at this time of year. It must be at least twenty years since I've been in London in June, and I'd forgotten ...

The front lawn had daisies - and do I mean daisies ... Shastas, I think.

The pansies which I'd planted last year were hanging on in there ...

The roses were trying hard ...

And there were several little geraniums scattered around...

The weigela was past its best but still splendid ...

And when I finally got the weeds out ...

...I found that three of the runner beans which I'd thrown in in April, had made it. I imagine the rest succumbed to the unusually severe temperatures which England suffered in early May. Will they survive the current exceptionally high temperatures (it's 31°C today, a friend tells me) with no-one there to water them?

That goes for all the other stuff I put in while I was there. It's not fair - England is just not supposed to have drought conditions in June ...

But maybe the stuff which has had time to get established will be OK. When I was there last year, I carefully replanted all the Michaelmas Daisies, Golden Rod and other self-seeded stuff in clumps. And in April I threw in a few seeds - such as the nasturtiums Briana sent me when Bilbo cam to stay. Once I'd got the weeds out, they seemed to be doing well.

The alyssum seeds which I'd scattered around had made it and were holding their own against the borage ...

And I found I was growing potatoes on the compost heap ...

And finally, my favourites - little clumps of campanula were bursting through everywhere .

I shall be back in a couple of weeks. Here's hoping that they all survive the heatwave ...

You know it's summer when ...

2010-05-30T20:29:00.003+02:00

You know it's summer when ...

- the wallflowers are only still there because you want to save the seeds.

- however long you spend deadheading the surfinia, when you turn round two minutes later there are more to do.

- you spot the first flowers on your tomato plants.

- you suddenly realise you're under attack.

- plants wilt pitifully under the midday sun...

... and the hot humid afternoons are punctuated by low growls of thunder and sudden, torrential rain.

Summer has arrived. Temperatures last week were up to about 28-29°C (82-84°F) on a couple of days, and though it's now down to about 23°/24° (73-75°F - average for the time of year) it already feels as if the humidity is starting to rise - 61% this evening. Not a problem yet, but I've already warned the family that the annual "oven strike" is about to start - no more roast dinners till the autumn. It's been a shock - two weeks ago I was saying that we still had the heating on and it was teeming with rain. Well, it still is - but we've changed from constant cold, wet downpours to hot, humid storms. Early this year - they're par for the course in June and July, but less so in May. Oh well, at least no-one's going to be worying about water shortages this year ...

It's time to stop ...

2010-05-23T13:55:00.002+02:00

... your chrysanthemums.

Back in March I talked about the chrysanthemum cuttings I'd taken, and how I wanted to see whether, as all the books told me, cuttings planted anew would give a better show than if I just left them on the plant. Here they were back then - three cuttings sheltered between the two mother plants.

And here they are now.

So far no contest. In terms of growth the old plants are far outstripping the babies. But of course there's plenty of time yet before they flower. So far the new plants must have been putting most of their energy into developing roots. So we still need to wait and see...

They do need attention though. As you can see from this one in an individual pot, what growth there has been is all upward.

Now if you want large, single blooms, that's fine. But if you'd prefer a mass of smaller ones, then you need to "stop" the plant - that is, pinch out the central growing tip so that side shoots will form and, eventually, flower.

If you really get into it, stopping is an art form all of its own. Should it be done once or twice? When exactly? How many side shoots should be encouraged to develop? It depends where you live, what you want the blooms for, even what cultivar you've got. Have a look at this site for an idea, but believe me - whole books have been written on the subject.

Luckily, unless you're trying to produce blooms for show purposes, you can be much more cavalier about it. I stop mine once when they get to about six inches in height, some time in May, and then let them get on with it. And the actual pinching out is easy. See the new little leaves growing at the top of the stem ?

Gone ....

And come November, they'll be bursting with blooms.

Seduced

2010-05-16T12:07:00.006+02:00

I had clear ideas for the balcony this year. It was going to be colour themed, with in-your-face containers of orange and purple muted by others of yellow and pale lilac broken up by white. Sunflowers were going to tower above calendula, zinnia and marigolds interspersed by surfinias, petunias and daisies with big, yellow centres and white petals. Black-eyed Susans were to twine their way up the canes behind. In the early part of the season, cheeky little violet pansies would poke through the foliage, to be replaced later by white and purple verbena.

And this year, I was determined. There was going to be no pink.

So where did these come from?

I was seduced. As I am every year. When I got to the supermarket and found these amazing Surfinia, Impatiens (Busy Lizzie) and New Guinea Impatiens in exactly the same amazing shade of deep pink - well, I succumbed weak-kneed.

I think I'm going to have to give up pretending I don't like pink. It's true, it's difficult to pair with other colours - but purple works fine, as these pelargoniums that I've got on the office balcony show. The purple pansies look great between the larger plants. And then, there's always white - which goes fine with everything.

And it's just as well I succumbed. because all the rest - most of which I've grown from seed - is way behind schedule. We've had the coldest, wettest May I ever remember. It started pouring down torrentially on May 3rd, and has barely stopped since. We've had roads flooding, trees down, rivers overflowing and at one point 100mm of rain in just three hours not far outside the city. Temperatures have been down to 12/14°C (53-57°F), and the heating has had to be turned on again - something I've never known happen in May. Needless to say it's had a huge impact on agriculture - I read one report saying that a third of the area devoted to sweet corn (a major crop in this area) would have to be completely resown and that potato production was 40% down on usual.

And it's not been much better on the balcony. Seedlings which should by now be bursting out in growth are still just sat there, peering at me through the grey, cloudy gloom, as if to say you want us to grow at these temperatures ?? And seeds planted in April haven't germinated at all.

There is one advantage. The red spider mite must be loathing every minute of it. Two years ago they'd hit by May 12th. Last year it was May 20th. But this year I suspect we'll have a bit of a respite. Thank you, rain. Thank you.

Anyway, while I'm waiting for the rest, I've turned to pink. But whatever the intended colour scheme, there is one pink plant that I'd never be without - my Lychnis coronaria (Rose campion). I grew it from seed which I saved from my London garden several years ago, and it's bloomed regularly on the balcony ever since. I love the grey-green foliage and the stark contrast it presents with the flowers. This year (and I'm not sure why) it's suddenly grown exponentially into an enormous plant. And that in a container on the back balcony where I've had little success with other plants. Note the one weedy sweet pea that's come up behind it - despite the fact that I sowed liberally. But the lychnis is thriving - it's even dwarfing the hollyhock beside it.

I've got a lot of Lychnis seedlings coming on, and the plan is to fill that container with them. It would be nice to find a climber that would grow up the back though, to set them off.

So here's to pink. I offer it for this year's May Garden Blogger's Bloom Day. And long may it grace the balcony.

Orticola

2010-05-09T22:45:00.005+02:00

It's not Chelsea, but Milan does have a flower show of its own in May. Called Orticola. Well, OK, not really a flower show, more a trade fair. There's no competitive element, and very little going on other than nurseries and other garden related organisations displaying and selling their products. I did see one demonstration of bouquet making, and there were a couple of areas dedicated to kids, but apart from that it was "just" commercial stands.

Which didn't stop me having to queue for fifteen minutes to pay my 7€ entrance fee to get in. Half of north Italy seemed to be there - making for a bit of a crush in the relatively small area dedicated to the 130 stands inside. I'm still not exactly clear about why I should need to pay for the privilege of having people sell me plants, but I stood dutifully in line to do so.

And, mean streak aside, it was worth it. I saw plants that I'd never be able to find in our local garden centre - and, mercifully, very few that I would. A couple of stands had stock balcony plants -pelargoniums, tagetes, surfinia etc - but always unusual varieties. And the prices were very, very reasonable, making me regret the fact that I'd been terribly strong when I was still at home and taken money out of my purse rather than putting it in... The easiest way to resist temptation, I thought.

Anyway, I wandered around going oooh and aah for a couple of hours. There were a lot of stands dedicated to one plant only. The hydrangeas in the top photo were probably my favourite, while the azaleas below were predictably "in your face"...

And there was even an entire stand dedicated to nasturtiums ...

Or you might fancy some peonies ..

.. great for winding round the maypole. Or is this supposed to be some sort of bridal bower?

There were some more original stands though. If you fancy having chickens in the back garden but are afraid the neighbours will complain, how about these ...

And if you keep a dog outside, how about a green roof for his kennel?

The same stand also had an amazing green wall - unfortunately, it was so amazing that it was surrounded by hordes of people, making it really difficult to get a decent photo.

But I think the stand that wowed me the most was this one, dedicated to water features. Don't know how much luck they had in selling - with the mosquitoes we have here, no-one in their right minds would want a water feature in their garden. But, at the back of the stand, was the most amazing plant - Gunnera mannicata. Not, sadly, right for the balcony. But I stood and looked at it for a long time. Double click on the photo to understand better why it grabbed my attention.

So what did I buy? Well, I was very restrained (apart from not taking very much money, I also had to carry them home on the bus). But I did come away with a couple of salvia faracinea - my attempts to grow them from seed failed miserably this year - two astilbes, one white and one pink, and a heuchera. Not bad for 25€.

And then there's always the catalogue. It has the web addresses of all the exhibitors in it. And a lot of them seem to sell on-line ... tee hee :)

Companion Planting

2010-05-06T20:23:00.005+02:00

Up to this year, I've always kept my three balconies separate as far as use was concerned. At home the front balcony (the one I look out on and sit on) was for plants in flower, while the back was the herb garden (just outside the kitchen door) and the nursery where I had the seedlings and the cuttings, plus the perennials not currently flowering - chrysanthemums in the spring and summer for instance. Then, my office balcony had a few flowers right in front of the window, but tucked away around the corner (well out of sight of my clients - now why?) was my vegetable garden, with its beans and courgettes and tomatoes.

This year though, I've changed. Nine times out of ten in the past, the veg and the herbs didn't make it - they were decimated by whitefly and red spider mite before they came anywhere near harvest. So this year I've changed tack - I'm companion planting.

The idea behind companion planting is simple. Growing certain plants near others improves the chances of the second group doing well. Why? Several reasons ...

Firstly, some plants will protect others from pests, diseases and environmental factors. So if you pop those in amongst others which are susceptible to those problems, they'll have some degree of protection. So here for example, I've got marigolds next to my tomatoes. Marigolds give off a smell which whitefly can't abide. So in avoiding the marigolds, they'll also have to stay away from the tomatoes. At the same time, I've got peppers planted by the tomatoes. The strong sun hasn't hit here yet this year, but when it does, the tomatoes will shelter them and provide humidity. There's some garlic in there too, as there is around my roses, to repel aphids.

Then there are plants which are supposed to benefit the growth and flavour of others - like basil for tomatoes. That's in there too but it's not quite big enough to see in the photo. A pity that you can't grow mozzarrella - I'd have a complete caprese in one container :)

Some plants will attract beneficial insects. For example, marigolds (yes, they crop up all the time) attract hoverflies , and hoverfly larvae like to munch away on aphids.

And finally, there are the sacrificial plants. This one's sad. You put in something that you know is irresistible to a particular pest, in the hope that it will leave the other plants, which you want to save, alone. There are a couple of nasturtiums tucked in with the roses too to attract aphids.

Why bother? Because every pest that can be deterred with another plant is one that doesn't have to be squirted with some foul, polluting chemical.

It's not all good news of course. Some of the worst pests don't seem to respond to companion planting at all - and, as every summer, my big fear is red spider mite. I've yet to find a plant that will repel it, and all those marigolds are actually going to attract it. And there's always the fear that if you attract them to sacrificial plants, they'll spread. Oh, my poor tomatoes.

And then there are the incompatibles. Just as some plants seem to like being together,and thrive, others seem to hate each other and do badly. Keep your onions away from your peas and beans for example and your tomatoes away from your potatoes. Not always easy if you're gardening in a small space like a balcony.

So what do you grow with what and what should you avoid planting together? You'll find loads of lists on the web - try these Google searches for instance Companion plants and Companion planting. Or if you have a specific plant in mind, just add it to the search box.

But whatever you search for, if you do find a plant that will repel the dreaded RSM, please, please let me know ...

Wisteria

2010-05-01T23:55:00.004+02:00

There's a part of me that would kill for this balcony ...

I love wisteria. And my dream is an old house in the country with wisteria growing up the walls. But despite that, I don't think that I shall be introducing it here.

First of all because it's not really a balcony plant. Even here it's not really growing on the balcony - it's been planted in the garden and then trained up.

It must have been planted when the house was built, given the size of it and the width of the trunk.

It's been trained up carefully, and the branches have then been supported under and along the balconies themselves.

Wisteria can be planted in containers - but the container plus the vine might soon get too heavy for the balcony. If you're balcony gardening and intend to use large containers, it's worth finding out how much weight your balcony can support - according to my architect husband, on the type of balcony we have here it's usually around 250-300 kilograms per square foot. Remember though that you need to allow for the weight of the people who might be standing on the balcony too. It's not just the containers.

Then there's the problem of time. Wisteria takes up to 20 years to flower if grown from seed and, some sites suggest, 4-5 or more if grown from cuttings. Even if you've got the patience to wait, space limitations on a balcony mean you might not want to have a non-flowering plant hanging around that long.

And even when it does start, you'll have a superb display for a couple of weeks in the spring and then all the balcony space taken up for the rest of the year. I'm not sure it's worth it.

It seems to me there are two possibilities - firstly to train it as a standard. The RHS site explains how. It will still reach small tree size, but as long as your balcony can take that much weight, it should solve the space problem.

Or it can be grown as a bonsai. Now I've never been really into bonsais. It's always seemed too much like foot-binding to me. but in this case I have to say I'd be sorely tempted ...

Meanwhile I'm just going to take a short walk up the road at the end of April each year, and stand and gaze at this one. I think it deserves a prize for brightening up the city.

It's that time of year again ...

2010-04-30T23:55:00.000+02:00

I posted a couple of years ago about Milan's addiction to sedum. This is the time of year when, wherever you are in the city, look up and you'll see yellow streaks lining the balcony railings. It almost seems to be an unwritten law that you have it growing on your balcony, even if for the rest of the year you don't have so much as a pelargonium growing out there.

I mean, look at this one. Not exactly overflowing with plants and containers. But out of the four containers that are there, three contain sedum.

Why is it so ubiquitous? Probably because it's almost impossible to kill the stuff. It was the only succulent on my balcony which survived the exceptionally cold temperatures we had this year, and despite the fact that I overwatered it pitifully when it was still far too cold to do so, it bounced back. Leaves dropped, others turned brown, and for a while it looked considerably shell-shocked - but back it bounced.

The only thing you can do with it is give it away. And this I think is the clue. for I have never, ever seen it on sale anywhere. But it's the pass-along plant par excellence. When it gets too large, just break off the stems, stick them in another pot of earth - and give them to your neighbour, smiling sweetly as if you're doing them the greatest kindness on earth while secretly chuckling to yourself that you've managed to halve your stock in one fell swoop and make it sonmeone else's problem. Of course, she won't be able to kill it off either, so the following year she'll pass some along to her neighbour ...

And so it spreads inexorably, haunting the balconies of non-gardeners throughout the city. They'll scorch it all August, leaving it waterless while they're at the sea. They'll leave it to freeze all winter. But next spring, there it will be, proudly lining the balcony.

What type of sedum is it? No idea. I call it Sedum milanensis. And if that's not its name, it should be.

I have a love/hate relationship with the stuff. (As I said above, I have my obligatory container. Two in fact. Guess how I got them ?) For most of the year it just sits there, looking boring, grey and unattractive. And then for a couple of weeks in April, it explodes and it's glorious. And not only do I enjoy miy own but I'm also fascinated by looking up and seeing all the yellow-lined balconies. Why else do you think this is the second post on the same topic in three years?

So hooray for the sedum. If only because it encourages non-gardeners to have at least one plant on their balconies, to my mind it's earned its place on mine.

Potting on ...

2010-04-29T11:04:00.003+02:00

Back at the beginning of March I wrote about pricking out my wallflower seedlings and potting them up as plug plants. This is what they looked like then ...

After about a month it was clear that they needed potting on. So I duly transferred them. In theory they should all have gone into 3" pots, but there were over sixty of them, and sixty 3" pots would have taken up more space on the balcony than I had to spare. So about twenty of them went into their own pots while the others went straight into the final containers where they'll grow till they flower next spring.

Would it make a difference? All the gardening books and experts are stern about it : never give a young plant more space than it needs at that moment, or it will just put down roots and "forget" to develop above ground.

But that wasn't the only one of gardening's ten commandments that I managed to break. When I'd transferred almost all of them, I ran out of fresh soil. I wanted to finish, so I just used a container that still had last year's soil in it. How much difference would that make?

Well, here are the results. First the container with fresh soil...

Happy, healthy little plants, coming on well in comparison to their clearly deprived friends in the container with old soil. Most of them haven't made it at all, while the rest remain small and weedy. The self seeded sunflower in there with them doesn't look too happy either ...

But then there are the plants in the 3" pots. Bear in mind that all of these plants were approximately the same size when I moved them a month or so ago.

The "potted" plants are more than twice the size even of those in the first container.

Will it make a difference to the display next year? The jury's going to have to stay out till next April before we can get a verdict on that one. The ones in the container with the poor soil are clearly going to need some tender loving care. Transplanting to new soil is the obvious answer, but as I've got so many I thought I'd try an experiment and see to what extent I can "remediate" with fertiliser. When you garden on a balcony in the middle of a city, disposing of old soil is a huge headache, and if you can re-use it, it's one less problem to worry about. We'll see ...

As for the difference between those in the container with good soil and those in the pots, I suspect that there'll be time for things to even out. Or there's even the possibility that superior root development will give the container plants the edge in the long run. Again, we'll see.

One thing is clear however. Had these been annuals rather than biennials, it would have made a huge difference - and meant a much earlier flowering period. From now on, any annuals that I grow from seed will definitely get "potted".

Meanwhile, the wallflowers from last year have been giving a wonderful display. Next year's plants will be a mix of the same browny-yellow ones as are here, plus a new red variety. I'm in two minds about it - for me, wallflowers are brown and yellow. But yet again, we'll see...

Bare Trees, Blue Sky

2010-04-15T20:44:00.003+02:00

I have always been fascinated by the sight of bare branches against a blue sky. I took my first photo, of a silver birch, in Finland in the January of 1975. It had been a long dark winter up till then. And then suddenly, the snow came down, the sun came out, and there was light again.

Now I have a silver birch in my London garden and it's April. But the fascination remains. These photos were taken ten days ago - in my garden (the silver birch and the prunus) and across my neighbour's garden (the apple and pear trees) towards the park beyond (the poplars).

The prunus was in bud but not quite in flower. It probably is by now. I really hoped I'd see it blooming.

The silver birch towards the house ...

... and towards the park.

It's a long time since I took part in Skywatch Friday, but I think these photos probably qualify. But click here to see the others participating this week. Of those up when I posted my favourite are the superb bird photos of by Klaus in Florida. Check them out.

The garden of the colour blind

2010-04-12T20:20:00.005+02:00

Imagine a world without colour. Imagine a garden without colour. Partial colour-blindness is fairly common - for example the red-green colour blindness that affects about one in twenty men. But what would it be like not to be able to see colour at all? Something, perhaps, like these photos.

The first day I was in England, I took photos of the garden intending to use them in a couple of posts. But I must have done something weird with the camera settings, because they came out in shades of grey with only the odd coloured tint.

The neurologist Oliver Sacks' (remember Robin Williams and Robert de Niro in the film Awakenings?) describes the experience of total colour-blindness in one of his books. He talks about a visit to an island in the South Pacific where the population is congenitally colour blind, as well as also mentioning the experience of one of his patients who had lost colour vision after a car accident which damaged part of his brain. He says that this patient , "... seemed to have lost the ability not only to see colour but also to imagine or remember it, even to dream of it... (He) complained of his world feeling impoverished, grotesque, abnormal - his art, his food, even his wife looked "leaden" to him."

Do these photos give some idea what it would be like? Knock out the suggestions of yellow and blue, and they are without doubt "leaden". Not black and white - just a grisly shade of grey.

The book is worth reading. Not only for the account of the colour blind island, but also for Sacks account of the cycads on the island of Guam.

Sacks had been a collector of Cycads since he was a child, and jumped at the chance to visit an island which was full of them, but also home to a neurological disorder called lytico-bodig - apparently caused by the poisonous effects of the plant. Cycads, in case you're not familiar with them, are plants which have been around for millions of years. They're the living dinosaurs of the plant world. Distantly related to palms and ferns, they grow in tropical and sub-tropical parts of the world where they are widely used as a food source, despite the fact that they are potent neuro-toxins, producing symptoms similar to those of Parkinson's disease. (If you've got any in your garden, don't be tempted to chomp on the plant as a snack.) Though all over the world people had apparently developed ways of detoxifying the plant, in Guam long-term effects seemed to remain. The rest is a detective story, told with Sacks usual humanity and compassion for the sufferers of the diseases he describes. It's a detective story with no solution, but well worth reading both for the botantical and the neurological details.

But back to colour blindness. What would it be like to garden, seeing only this? Sacks describes the reactions of Knut Nordby, a colour-blind scientist who accompanied him, and of James, one of the islanders :

Knut was fascinated by ... the richness of the vegetation, which he saw quite clearly, perhaps more clearly than the rest of us. For us, as colour-normals, it was was at first just a confusion of greens, whereas to Knut it was a polyphony of brightnesses, tonalities, shapes and textures, easily identified and distinguished from each other. He mentioned this to James who said it was the same for him and all the other achromatopes on the island - none of them had any difficulty distinguishing the plants on the island....

"But what about bananas..." Bob asked... " How can you tell when a banana is ripe ...?"

James' answer was to go to a banana tree and to come back with a carefully selected, bright green banana for Bob.

Bob peeled it; it peeled easily to his surprise. He took a small bite of it, gingerly; then devoured the rest.

"You see," said James, "We don't just go by colour. We look, we feel, we smell, we know - we take everything into consideration, and you just take colour!"

From : Oliver Sacks, The Island of the Colour-blind and Cycad Island Picador

The Good News, The Bad News, The Borage ...

2010-04-10T19:49:00.002+02:00

Haven't been blogging much recently because I've been too busy gardening. First a week getting the back balcony clean and tidy, and seeds sown ready for summer. And then a week in the UK, sorting out my London garden.

Now, if you've been following my vain attempts to keep the garden decent at a distance of 600 miles, you'll know that I've spent the last two summers battling with borage. When I left last autumn, I'd spent two months digging out taproots nearly as thick as my wrist. I cleared the garden, but I knew it wasn't the end of the story. Not only does borage self seed like crazy, but if you don't dig out every last inch of root, it just bounces straight back. And I knew that I hadn't. So the bad news is that when I got back, this is what confronted me ...

It was clear that another week of digging was ahead. Except that you try sitting at a computer for six months and then decide to spend all day digging. Balcony garden may be good for the soul, but the exercise that you get when coping with a real garden is sadly lacking.

Anyway, I did what my back would allow and managed to clear and plant several flower beds, as well as cutting the grass and the hedge and deadheading the hydrangeas. And the good news was that when I started, I found most of the borage didn't come from old taproots at all. It was from last season's seed - and came out of the ground like butter. Weeding in the spring when the soil is moist is also a different experience from doing it in the summer when the ground is baked hard. Even those plants which did have well-established taproots were far easier to deal with.

But back to the bad news. This year it wasn't just the borage. There were three other invasive plants covering the garden. One was this ...

In one of my posts last summer I remember saying that the garden was filled with hundreds of tiny bulbs which I couldn't identify. I even collected them carefully and replanted them in clumps. Well there they are, valiantly competing with the borage to swamp the flower beds, destroy the lawn and, in general, dominate the garden.

What are they? No idea. Wouldn't mind if they showed signs of flowering, but only one in about a thousand seems to be in bud. Which leaves 999 per square foot just putting out straggly, unattractive leaves. I yanked them all out as I cleared the beds, but much of the garden is still swamped. However, at least they're providing ground cover for the parts I didn't get round to.

There are some bulbs though which I've been quite happy to leave. Little clumps of muscari are dotting the garden, together with some tall, broad leaved plants which aren't flowering and which I can't name. But I've seen them flowering in a neighbour's garden and they're lovely. I think they're Snowflake, either Leucojum vernum or, as they're not yet in flower, possibly Leucojum aestivum. If so, they should be flowering by the time I next go back - I've planned another trip in early May - so I should see.

Some tulips are also in bud, and the daffodils which I planted last year have been glorious. The roses and lavender which I put in are also coming on well. More good news.

And back to the bad. There's a weed in the garden which I've never seen there before - but which is quickly taking over. Horrendous stuff - but luckily fairly easy to pull up. This is the compost heap...

Occasionally shy little flowers attempt to poke their way through ...

The third invasive plant is good news, however. Last summer I posted asking if anyone recognised a plant which was gradually creeping over the lawn and flower beds. It had clearly flowered in the spring because it was full of seed pods, but I had no idea what it was. Several people suggested violets, but I said no, I'd already thought of that and rejected it because the leaves were too pale. But what do we have here ...

Bright green leaves and little violets everywhere. So humble apologies to Disquina, Wendy and Jan - you were right all along.

So, it was a week of weeding. I did about a sixth of the garden thoroughly, hoed a bit more where baby borage seedlings were sprouting, and, on the last day, gave up and sprayed the rest with weedkiller. I'll be back in a month to see if it had any effect. But I suspect the borage may well have just lapped it up ...

Chrysanthemum cuttings ... or not?

2010-03-21T20:14:00.004+01:00

All the gardening books are adamant - Chrysanthemums will do better if you start afresh with new cuttings each year than if you just let the old plants sprout again.

I've always been very obedient. Over the winter the old plants die down, but by spring, shoots are - well, shooting up from the base. And I always pull them off to use them as cuttings.

This isn't intended to be a how-to post, but just in case anyone is interested, it's dead easy. You need shoots at least two inches long. Pull them off gently, then cut the stem straight across just below a leaf node. Again gently, pinch off the lower leaves, leaving just a couple at the top. Pop them into some damp potting compost and - well, just wait. They may look a bit floppy at first, but one day (a month or so later) you'll suddenly notice that they've perked up - and you'll know they've rooted.

There are variations on a theme of course. You could try dipping them in hormone rooting powder before planting them. But I never have, (I can't get the stuff locally)and four out of five have always made it - just plant more than you need. Or you can cover them in a propagator - but I'm getting ahead of my story.

We've had an exceptionally cold winter. Lots of my plants haven't made it and, for the first time, that includes my chrysanthemums. Last autumn I had five plants in this container, all taken from cuttings the previous spring ...

... by this spring only two had survived, and another plant (top photo) was looking extremely sorry for itself.

Now, by rights, I should have stripped all three plants of their new shoots and potted them all up to create new plants. But the bad weather has meant putting it off, and off, and off. Up to ten days ago, night-time temperatures were still below zero - not the best time to take cuttings.

I'm one of those people who, though having enormous respect for the experience of experts, does like to see things for myself. It's not that I don't believe them - I just want to try it out. So I thought that this year I might try an experiment. For the large white variety which was half dead, I've salvaged two cuttings and thrown the mother plant away. But for the little yellow variety, I've mainly left them as they are, only taking enough cuttings to fill the gaps left by the ones that died this winter. Three cuttings have gone into the spaces around the two survivors and I've got a couple more in pots in case those three don't make it. Will the gardening books be right ? In the autumn we'll see which are producing the best blooms - the old plants or the new cuttings.

I'm giving the cuttings a bit more help than usual this year though - by covering them to create a more humid, and warmer atmosphere. I've never bothered before, but with the long, cold winter having delayed everything, I reckon they need all the help they can get. The DIY "propagators" are just cut-off mineral water bottle bottoms. They can either be pushed into the soil around the plant (if it's already in its growing position), or fitted over small pots.

Gardening with kids

2010-03-20T15:03:00.002+01:00

I planted some nasturtiums three days ago and the first is already sprouting. They seem to come up as soon as they touch the soil and, before you know it, are full adult plants demanding repotting.

Watching it burst through made me think back to when my son was little and he used to sow "his" seeds and grow them alongside mine. I always gave him the fun ones - the ones which would develop quickly, and be big and bold. I wanted to encourage him with little, instant and everyday results that would make him want to go on caring for the plant and checking on what had happened from one day to the next.

Was I right? When I explained this to someone else, who also had kids and was a keen gardener I got the snooty reply "I don't like to patronise my kids. I want them to understand that nature has its own times".

Well, it was a snooty reply - because this was a rather snooty person. But it stuck - because in theory I agree. But in practice I don't, because the perception of time of a five-year-old is not the same as that of an adult.

One of my earliest memories comes for the time when I was - I'm not sure how old. No more than four because I wasn't yet at school. Certainly young enough to still watch the TV programmes for the youngest children.

We didn't have a TV in those days, but my grandparents, who lived just up the road, had just bought one. (OK, OK - I'm showing my age here. Forget it.) And every day I was allowed to go to my grandparents to see the 15 minute slot on the BBC for the youngest children - Watch with Mother (or in my case Watch with Nanny and Grandad).

There was a different programme every day - The Woodentops, Muffin the Mule, Bill and Ben. I loved them all, and could still sing you the theme tunes. But my favourite was Andy Pandy. And I remember going home one day after watching Andy Pandy (my real love was his best friend, Teddy) crying my eyes out. Because it was going to be so long, eons and eons, before the next episode was shown.

Now, Andy Pandy came on once a week. Every Tuesday. So I actually only had to wait seven days. But for a four-year-old's perception of time, seven days is an eternity.

I remember reading somewhere the theory that time perception is determined by the proportion of that time in relation to your age. So, if you are one year old, a week is 1/52 of your age. When you're twenty it's 1/1040 of your age, and when you're fifty two it's 1/2704 of your age. And you perceive it accordingly. When you're fifty a week flies in the blink of an eyelid. But when you're one you perceive it as lasting the same amount of time as a whole year for a fifty two year old.

Now, I've no idea how theoretically sound this idea is. But it certainly accords with my own differing perception of time as I've grown older - each year it seems to pass faster and faster.

So - when you're gardening with kids, keep it in mind. Asking them to wait two or three weeks for their seeds to sprout may be like having to wait months and months yourself. A real way of getting them to understand "nature's own times" might well be to give them the fast-sprouting, fast growing seeds. The wait will seem just as long to them as it does to you as you patiently wait for your petunias to come through.

Here are just a couple of things you can try now. They'll all grow happily in pots and you can start them off now on the windowsill and then transfer them outside (to the ground or larger pots) when they get bigger and the weather's better :

1. As I said, nasturtiums. They come through quickly, and grow quickly, developing large leaves and large flowers. Get the kids to measure them daily and calculate how much they've grown - great for maths practice.

2. Sunflowers - the same advantages. Try growing one for each member of the family. Let everybody have responsibility for their own - water, light, fertiliser etc - measure them regularly and record the results. Who can grow the tallest plant? Again, great for maths, but also for teaching the kids to take responsibility for other living things. If you have a large age range in the family, the littlest ones may need help of course. Maybe the oldest could remind and help the youngest.

3. Beans - if they have to stay in pots, use a dwarf variety. All the fast growing advantages of the others, and this time the child has the satisfaction of harvesting her/his own crop and "feeding the family".

4. Any of the above, but try an experiment. Let several plants sprout, then get the child to grow one giving it the water, fertiliser, light and temperature it needs. With all the others take away one of these conditions - take away the light from one, put one in the fridge, don't fertilise another, don't water the last. Each day record how large they've grown, how healthy they are. A great way of showing the kids how life needs certain conditions.

Well it is, if you can bear it. Have to say that the last was an experiment my son did at primary school. My heart bled for all those poor, deprived, doomed seedlings ...

Mad March

2010-03-15T17:46:00.006+01:00

The weather last week was crazy. As forecast (see the Saturday post) it snowed. Not a lot here, but in areas not far from Milan, people were snowed in, and in the mountains they had record low temperatures for March : around -20°C (-4°F) if I remember correctly.

It didn't last long. A couple of days and we were back to bright blue skies and sunshine. But the temperatures have remained very, very strange. Yesterday it was 14°C (57°F) on the balcony at lunchtime. With -2°C (28°F) forecast for the night. Today it's been 16°C (61°F) but will drop to 1°C (33°F) tonight. That's a huge difference andI think I'm going to have some very confused plants.

It's also meant that I've been holding back on sowing. Though one set of seedlings doesn't seem to have been at all phased by the cold weather. This winter, I made the mistake of leaving my chrysanthemum container underneath the bird feeder. It seems that this year I'm going to be harvesting a great crop of millet ...

Where do you keep your gardening magazines?

2010-03-13T18:40:00.004+01:00

Where do you keep your gardening magazines? If you're anything like me you'll have been accumulating them for years. I don't subscribe to any one magazine in particular, but I do buy them fairly regularly. Throwing them away is out of the question (as you may have gathered from recent posts, throwing things away is not my forte) - you never know when the information might come in useful. And anyway, after a few years you've forgotten what they said and can happily read them again.

But if they're going to be useful, you need to be able to find the information that you want when you want it. How often have you desperately flipped through reams of magazine because you know that in there somewhere there's an article on the topic you need? Not a problem if you do subscribe - the magazine may publish an annual index, or even provide a fancy folder to keep them all in. But if you're an impulse buyer?

My solution is to put them all in large folders, filed not chronologically but by month. So that I have all the June issues together, all the November issues together, and so on regardless of year. And the folders get labelled and decorated with some pictures cut out of old seed catalogues, and popped onto my bookshelves.

Now I have to admit that the photo shows the folders from a while back. At that stage each folder covered three months. I've now arrived at the point of needing a separate folder for each month. But the principle is the same. And at the beginning of each month I can take down the folder and flip through all the magazines it contains looking for useful information for that month's gardening. Because if there's one thing that all gardening magazines have in common, it's that they tell you what you need to be doing that month. And it will often happen that a magazine from five or so years ago has an article on a plant that, at the time, I wasn't growing but which I want to introduce this year.

It doesn't completely solve the problem of indexing. But I know that if I'm looking for an article on Poinsettia, I'm far more likely to find it in the December issues than in June.

Month by month filing is, for me far more useful than chronological storage. At which point I can hear my husband snorting in the background : You mean it's a better option than leaving them all lying around the bedroom floor ..

But what about you? How do you store your gardening magazines?

Taming the Monster

2010-03-11T17:40:00.001+01:00

When I'd shifted enough pots on the back balcony to give me room to move, another space hogger confronted me. My wild asparagus.

I've blogged about his history a couple of times. He self-seeded in one of the containers (goodness knows how) and then stayed apparently dormant for several years, growing no more than four or five short fronds while the root system developed. Until one year he exploded.

Two years ago I'd had enough, turfed him out of his pot and cut back the roots. Radically. That held him for a year, but last year he was back in full swing and again quadrupled in size.

So I thought I'd try another tack. It was time to enrol him in the marines. Because what's the first thing that happens when you join the marines ?

You get a haircut.

The Perfect Pansy

2010-03-10T17:40:00.000+01:00

Is this not the most perfect pansy you've ever seen in your life?

My Pet Hate

2010-03-08T14:23:00.001+01:00

Work on cleaning up the back balcony has begun, and the first job had to be making enough space to move around. I knew that this had to be the year that I finally decided to throw away some of the plastic pots that had been accumulating in the cupboard - and recently overflowing out of it. Why? Because I hate throwing plastic away and for 17 years, since we moved in, have been keeping them to reuse. And of course, I have re-used them. However, it was getting to the point where I had enough to open a nursery - and no more space to store them. So out they went - well, half of them at least - off to the recycle bin.

But while I was clearing them out of the cupboard, I kept coming across something else. These ...

Plastic spray bottles. Nozzleless or with nozzles not working. Of course - because whenever have you bought a spray bottle whose nozzle worked for more than about three months? So you have to throw it away and get a new one. Because the makers couldn't possibly sell nozzles that work, could they? Or if that's too great a technological challenge, at least sell spare nozzles, so that you could keep the bottle and just fit a new one on. It drives me up the wall. Why do I absolutely have to buy a new bottle every time the nozzle stops working? Why doesn't every spray bottle come with five nozzles? Why can't I buy spare nozzles in packs of ten and keep the same bottle for ever? The amount of plastic saved would be enormous.

Yes of course, they go to the recycle bin too. But we all know that recycling isn't nearly as good an option as not throwing the stuff away in the first place.

Maybe it's just here. Maybe everywhere else in the world nozzles work for years. Or maybe your bottles always come with a large pack of spares. But I suspect not. I suspect profits might be seriously hit if we didn't have to throw the whole thing out every few months and buy a new one. Well, I for one would happily pay five times as much if the makers would just provide one that could be guaranteed to last five times as long. I mean - a nozzle. It's not really rocket science, now is it?

Snow is forecast ...

2010-03-06T09:08:00.008+01:00

Again. With temperatures predicted to drop to -6°C (21°F). Just when I'd started crowing that we'd turned the corner and spring was on its way. But it was. Temperatures were up around 16°C (61°F), the new spring grass was bursting through, the magnolia was in bud, and I'd even seen the first Forsythia in flower.

Then yesterday at 4pm I came out of a seminar, where I'd been all day, and stopped dead in my tracks. There was bright, bright sunshine and a clear blue sky - but the temperature had plummeted to 2°C.

It's the same today, with the forecasts predicting snow between tomorrow and Tuesday.

Snow in March doesn't happen every year here, but neither is it particularly rare. I've found records from 1995, 1998, 2001 and 2005. It doesn't usually last long - there's even a saying Neve marzolina dura dalla sera alla mattina which translates as March snow lasts from the evening to the morning It loses a lot in the translation as you miss the rhythm and the rhyme. Maybe : In March it snows in the evening then goes. Read as da DA, da DA, da da DA da, da DA. But back to the plot ..

I've spent the past few weekends clearing up after the winter and starting to get seeds in. The front balcony is now looking pristine if a bit bare. But that will soon change. The corner by the living room doors is already full with the pansies and primroses I wrote about before, and wallflowers and bulbs which are coming on nicely.

A lot of the bulbs are from my London garden - they're just a selection of stuff that I dug up when I was clearing up last summer. As I didn't recognise them, I brought some back to plant here - to see what I'd get. Still not sure what's in the first pot here. The long leaves are possibly Snowflakes and in the middle there are some hyacinths. Very small though - I'm not expecting them to flower. The blue pot at the back has crocuses in front, which are now starting to bloom. All white so far - I wonder if that's chance or whether I've now got a London garden full of white crocuses? I hope to be there next week, so should find out. I don't know what the larger ones at the back are yet -we'll see.

This weekend should be dedicated to the back balcony - which is still in a dreadful mess, partially because my main method of clearing up the front was to shift all the rubbish to the back. But with temperatures at only 2°C, the idea of getting out there looks somewhat less attractive.

My seeds are all safe from the low temperatures as they're sitting happily indoors in their propagators. This is the time of year when my long-suffering husband starts to mutter that normal people have a bedroom, so why is it only us that have to sleep in a greenhouse? Most of them only went in last Sunday, but a few have already started to sprout. Here come the Morning Glory that Briana sent me when Bilbo came to stay.

The only advantage of the current weather is that we can see the Alps - unusual in Milan as the heavy smog generally obscures them, despite the fact that they're only about 30 miles away.

Heavy rain last week must have cleaned the air sufficiently to make them visible. The photos were taken from the roof of our building this morning.

Wallflowers

2010-03-01T20:14:00.007+01:00

Around about 5.45 pm on Saturday my neighbours were treated to a loud scream of anguish which echoed around the gardens surrounding the apartment blocks in our complex. And with so many blocks piled one upon the other, believe me - screams echo well.

I love wallflowers. I've got some coming on at the moment which should soon be in flower. But there are only fifteen or so of them. For next year I'm hoping for a more spectacular display.

Last summer I sowed some wallflower seeds far too late in the season for them to be big enough to flower this year. But they're hardy and they got through the winter with no problems. They'll grow all this year and be fine for next spring - just call them triennials. But as they seemed to be coming back into growth, I thought it was about time I took them out of the seed trays and potted them on.

Now here I have to confess. You know what they say about thinning out seedlings? Forget it. I can't kill anything. If it straggles up, as far as I'm concerned it gets a chance. As long as I don't inadvertently snap its roots off when I'm separating the seedlings out, into a pot of its own it goes.

I'd planted two rows in the seed tray - and ended up with seventy seedlings. And for an hour or so on Saturday afternoon I stood there happily teasing out the roots and replanting one by one in plug pots. By the time I finished it was getting dark, so I thought I'd better clear up and go in. And that's when it happened.

Now, there are those people who have high visual-spatial intelligence and then there are those of us who are somewhat challenged in that department. To put it mildly we're congenitally clumsy - though I'm sure that's no longer the politically correct expression. We're the ones who are always covered in burns because when we take things out of the oven, we misjudge the distance and brush our arms against the hot racks. We're the ones who need enough space for six articulated lorries in order to park a mini and who eventually give up driving because it's clear that sooner or later we'll kill someone. We're the ones who get beaten by six-year olds when playing Tetris. And we're the ones who drop things, spill things, break things ... You get the general idea.

So there I was with my seventy seedlings all neatly potted up. All I had to do was transfer them from the work space to the trays where they'd stay for a while. Now where had I put the trays? I turned around to look, caught the containers with my elbow, and in a split second swept the lot onto the floor.

In restrospect the neighbours were lucky that I only screamed. They could well have been treated with somewhat more graphic utterance, which probably wouldn't have reflected the English they learnt at school ...

So, in the rapidly deepening twilight, there I was scooping up seventy seedlings and the related potting compost, and starting all over again. Luckily there's a small light on the back balcony so even when it got really dark, I was at least able to see vaguely what I was doing.

I got them all back in except six which had snapped during the fall. So I now have sixty-four wallflowers all ready for flowering next year. OK, exaggerated on a small balcony. But so what? I said I love them, and I can always give them away. Anyone want to come and collect a couple of wallflower seedlings?

Pansies and Primroses

2010-02-20T19:57:00.008+01:00

Spring finally seems to have arrived. Only two weeks ago there was still snow on the ground and night-time temperatures were dipping to -5°C (22°F). And then suddenly today, it was here. Bright sunshine and 17°C (63°F). I was out on the balcony like a shot.

Off came the fleece, and the work of clearing up after the winter started. As I said after Christmas, I lost a lot during the big freeze this year, and there was a lot to throw away. But the real work on the balcony in February isn't really gardening at all. It's housework.

Washing down the railings, sweeping up the dead leaves, washing the floor, washing all the tables and container frames. As my husband said - Why don't you do that in the kitchen occasionally ?

Because that's his job. And anyway, he exaggerates. Back to the plot.

It couldn't be all boring stuff though. I had to have some reward for all the hard work. So while we were at the supermarket, I bought the first plants of the year - primroses and pansies. And concentrated on getting one corner of the balcony fully finished so that I could get the containers back up.

I've talked before about the dangers of buying plants on impulse at the supermarket. These looked healthy enough though. But sure enough, when I got them home, two of the pansies were completely waterlogged.

First aid was clearly called for, so I whipped them out of their pots, wrapped them in absorbent paper and sat them in the warm sun for a while. After a couple of hours the paper (which I changed a couple of times) had soaked up as much of the water as it was going to, so I popped them in the container with the others. I've left the surrounding compost fairly dry, so I think they'll make it. I'm hoping that they'd just been watered when I got there, rather than having been sitting with their roots water for a couple of days.

So we're off again. The cleaning up and washing down is going to take a while to complete, but there's plenty of more interesting stuff to do. The plumbago needs a good prune back, and the first seeds can go in. Please, please don't let the weather change back ...

Does Father Christmas Hate Gardeners?

2010-02-06T11:45:00.005+01:00

I'm starting to think so. If you've been around here a while, you'll know that two Christmases ago, the top item on my letter to Santa (and I sent it really early, honest) was a kitchen composter.

I was really excited. Milan is generally good for recycling - plastic, glass, paper etc all has to be separated - but they don't collect food waste for composting. And every night as I'm peeling veg for dinner, I'm there thinking Oh what a shame - if only I could have a compost heap on the balcony...

So when I found the kitchen composter, I thought I'd solved the problem. All my vegetable peelings could go in, and I'd save a fortune on fertiliser. And it would be organic.

The website promised no smell, no flies and quick decomposition - spurred on by the adition of a bokashi mix - a bran based culture containing bacteria, yeasts etc which spur on the decomposition. The answer to a balcony gardener's dream.

So off went my letter to Father Christmas. And I waited with anticipation. Christmas morning came. My presents were lovely. But no kitchen composter. I was so disappointed ...

So I asked Father Christmas' local representative what had happened to the composter. He looked puzzled. "You really wanted a rubbish bin for Christmas?"

Yes, I really wanted a rubbish bin for Christmas. Oh well. A year passed. This time I printed off the website page and attached it to my Christmas letter. With a note saying that I loved all the handbags, and jewellery, and perfume I'd got last year, but honestly, I really, really, really wanted this particular bin for the kitchen rubbish.

Christmas morning came. There was nothing under the Christmas tree that looked remotely the size of a kitchen composter. But when we came to open everything, I found a small envelope waiting for me. And there it was, in the shape of an order form. It would be arriving shortly.

Wheee ... day after day I asked our caretaker if anything had arrived. Nothing. I waited - the Italian post isn't renowned for speed so I didn't panic. There were other internet ordered presents that hadn't yet arrived either. But January wore on, and in the end I cracked and sent an e-mail to the company.

Oh.. they replied Didn't you get our message? we cancelled the order. We don't deliver outside the UK ...

At that point, I knew it was true. Father Christmas hates gardeners. Or at least kitchen composters. It's all right for him - he's got all that reindeer dung to work with ...

But you can't keep a good composter down, so back I get on the net. If Father Christmas won't do it, then I'll buy one myself. There must be a company somewhere who will deliver to me ... And yes, I found one. In fact the company where I'd originally found the composter , Just Green We welcome orders from outside the UK. Wheeee again.

So I think I'll finally get my kitchen composter. No more having to throw away the potato peelings. Lots of lovely liquid fertiliser for the plants. And my own supply of fresh compost. Watch this space ...

The Big Chill

2010-01-19T18:50:00.004+01:00

On the night I left Milan for the Christmas holidays, the temperature was forecast to drop to -14°C (7°F). That's unheard of here. Sometimes in January we might get -6°C (21°F), but that's about the limit.

There wasn't much I could do. The plants on the balcony were already covered in fleece and tucked up against the walls of the house. And quite honestly, I was too busy packing to worry.

But all through the holidays, it was at the back of my mind. What would I find when I got back? Would anything survive?

When I got back, pulling off the fleece to check was not a happy experience. In particular, the succulents had been decimated. The sedum seems to have pulled through, but my lovely, lovely money plant (Crassula ovata) has been frozen to death ...

as has the prickly pear ...

and the mesembrantheum. But at least that saves me having to decide whether to throw it out as I'd been thinking of.

I'm worried to about the aloe. The outer leaves have gone but the centre doesn't look too bad. Will it make it?

I've lost other plants too - the spider plants have been massacred ...

All these are plants which, with due protection, have always overwintered outside without problems. Yet, amazingly, the plants I was most worried about - the annuals that were hardly more than at seedling stage, and the more delicate perennials like my plumbago - all seem to have come through unscathed. I've lost a couple of hollyhocks, but the rest are all there. Even my chrysanthemums - in full bloom when I left. At first sight I thought I'd lost them ...

But look what's happening around the back...

In theory, the coldest period of the year is yet to come - in the next week or so. But fingers crossed that nothing will exceed the pre-Christmas period.

PS : Apologies for the time lapse since the last post. I have been swamped with work. But from now on, things will be back to normal - promise.

Review of the Year 2009

2009-12-29T16:10:00.004+01:00

Has a year really passed since I was sitting here doing the review of 2008? It seems about five minutes ago. But in three days it´s going to be 2010, so here´s a look back at what has happened this year...

On January 1st we were in Germany and it was snowing. But that didn´t stop me getting myself to the local garden centre and stocking up on seeds for the year. Sadly it wasn´t to be a particularly good year on the balcony - too much work and having to be away a lot meant that I had much less time to spend on gardening, and the casualty rate was high. So if you don´t remember having seen photos of many of the plants in the seed packets, well that´s why.

Back in Milan and the bad weather continued, meaning that most of my gardening happened indoors. At the end of the month I posted on looking after Scindapsus - a plant which people often scorn, but which personally I love having around.

By February the weather was getting better, and it was time to start preparing for the year. A balcony may not be quite so time-consuming as a garden, but there´s still plenty to do clearing up after the winter and preparing for spring. See here for a checklist. February was also the month when I posted about how my cooking tended to revolve around the herb savory - and how I was planning to grow it on the balcony in 2009. Sadly it was one of the failures, but I´ll be trying again this year.

March arrived, and suddenly things were blooming again. Much to my surprise, the tulip bulbs which I´d planted for the second year running were the greatest success of the season. So much for all the books which said that tulip bulbs planted in containers should be thrown away after flowering. They´ve gone in again this year - we shall see.

In April, I was also planting salad and veg. But we´ll draw a veil over that one. If my flower gardening wasn´t greatly successful this year, the kitchen garden was a disaster. It produced exactly two French beans ... But then, when your packet of lettuce seeds assures you you´ll be harvesting tomatoes, I suppose failure is to be expected. Confused? So was I - click here.

May. If the balcony isn´t looking good in May, then it never will be. My pride and joy this year was my little campanula, which bloomed its heart out for me all month.

June was pretty good too, with nasturtiums, petunias and surfinia, pelargoniums, hollyhocks and begonias all in full bloom. And for the first time ever, I managed to persuade the great tits and blue tits which live in the garden surrounding the flat to come on to the balcony to feed.

In July we were off to England - where I found my garden completely overgrown. The photo below shows what used to be the rose bed. Two months hard work followed, to get it back to some semblance of order. I planted a lot of bulbs and other stuff while I was there - and hope to get back soon to see how they are doing.

However, the overgrown state of the garden meant that it had become a haven for wildlife - including a family of foxes, who soon realised that dinner was on offer nightly. Not too much - we wouldn´t be there to provide for them forever and the young ones had to learn to forage for themselves. But enough to encourage them to come and check us out every evening.

In September my son and I went to the sea for ten days - to Eraclea Mare, not far from Venice. It was undoubtedly the best two weeks of the year.

On one of our many walks and bike rides into the lagoon, I spotted a buzzard circling high above us.

September also brought the honour of being voted "Best Container Gardening Blog" on Blotanical - something I truly didn´t expect as the competition was so strong.

In October I found a mystery plant had self seeded itself in one of the containers. But several people who read the post were able to identify it as Kalanchoe daigremontiana - or Mother of Thousands. Sadly it succumbed to the sudden drop in temperature we had in December. It was looking very sorry for itself when I left for Christmas holidays, and I very much doubt if it will have made it.

But on a cheerier note, October was also the month when the Hummingbird Hawkmoth visited the balcony.

In November the chrysanthemums were in bloom ....

... and it was also the month when Bilbo the garden gnome visited the Balcony Garden. for those of you who don´t know him, he´s doing a world tour, and visiting people´s blogs along the way. When he left me, he went off to Sweden to visit Gittan and play in the snow..

In December the weather turned chilly and it was time to cover up the balcony before the first sprinkling of snow fell. Everything was covered with fleece and moved back against the warmth of the walls of the flat. But temperatures were about to fall to a record -14C (that´s 7F). That happened the day we left for Germany again, so I´ve not yet seen what damage it´s done. Will anything have survived?

So, the year has come full circle, and in a couple of days will start again. It was a busy, and at times hectic year, but without real ups and downs. I had little time for the balcony (and some months even less for blogging) and it showed in the results. So my goal for next year is to find the time again, and to have the balcony looking as good as it has in some past years. And of course, to get a few more than two French beans ....

To everyone who´s followed the Balcony Garden over the past year, I hope you have a very, very

Happy New Year!

The 2009 Christmas Quiz

2009-12-22T23:30:00.001+01:00

We just got away in time, before the snow created havoc. Two days after we left, Milan is at a standstill with trains not running, and airports closed. Schools closed too, much to my son´s disgust as he´s not there to profit from it. Here in north Germany on the contrary, the worse seems to be over. Temperatures are again above zero (in comparison to -14C the night we arrived) and a night of rain has washed away most of the snow. So will it be a white Christmas? There´s still time yet, but at the moment it´s looking much less likely than on Sunday.

Since The Balcony Garden started, we´ve always had a Christmas Quiz focusing on the plants associated with Christmas time. You can see them all if you click on the link. The 2006 quiz was easy - plenty of questions to ask. 2007 went well too. But by 2008 I was having to get really sneaky, and this year - well, if you get five out of five this time (without cheating and looking them up on the internet), the you really know your Christmas traditions. So here goes - the 2009 Balcony Garden Christmas Quiz.

1. The photo above shows a German Christmas tradition - an evergreen wreath with four candles. But when are the candles traditionally lit, and why?

2. There is a legend that during the Holy Family´s flight to Egypt, Mary laid some freshly washed clothes of the Christ Child over a bush to dry, so that the fragrance of the bush would permeate the clothes. In recognition of the honour bush changed the colour of its flowers from white to blue. What type of bush was it?

3. Every year on December 23rd a festival is held in the Town Square in Oaxacaca, Mexico as part of the Christmas celebrations. The festival consists of a competition for the best carving made from a particular vegetable. Which vegetable is it?

4. In Lithuania there is a traditional Christmas Eve meal in which no meat or hot food is eaten. One of the traditional foods consists of small pastries soaked in a "milk" made from a certain type of seeds. The seeds are soaked in water for a day, then crushed until a white liquid is obtained. This is then diluted with water and sweetened with honey or sugar. But what type of seeds are used?

5. Which of the following banned the Christmas tree?

a) The Bolsheviks after the 1917 October Revolution.

b) President Roosevelt, who didn´t want one in the White House because he objected to trees being cut down to be used as decorations.

c) The United Nations, from the Copenhagen summit last week, in order to avoid the use of a symbol of a religious festival.

So how did you do? Here are the answers :

1. It´s an Advent Wreath, and one candle is lit on each of the four Sundays before Christmas, until on the final Sunday all four candles are burning.

2. A rosemary bush. Another version of the legend says that it was Mary´s cloak which was laid on the bush, which better explains the change to blue flowers.

3. A giant radish. You can read more about it here.

4. Poppy seeds.

5. All of them.

Ah well, after that Christmas can only get easier... Here´s hoping you have a wonderful time and have only just enough snow to make it a white Christmas without causing any problems.

Happy Christmas !

So who won ?

2009-12-20T16:13:00.000+01:00

I got the plants on the balcony covered up with fleece just in time. A couple of days later, temperatures had dropped to freezing and there was a sprinkling of snow. By yesterday there was considerably more than a sprinkling, and by nine in the evening it was -10 degrees centigrade outside. That´s 14 fahrenheit. I don´t remember temperatures like that in Milan ever. Despite the fleece, I wonder how much is going to survive.

Temperatures are similar all over Europe. I don´t know how low it finally dropped overnight in Milan, because we then left for Germany, where we´re spending Christmas. And arrived at -14C (7F). Today is better - it´s been snowing again, and there´s a bitterly cold wind, but temperatures are up to -2C. The plants on my sister-in-law´s balcony seem to be holding up. We´ll see ...

A plea - while weather conditions are like this, don´t forget the birds. It´s tough enough for themout there without going hungry too.

To cheerier things ... who won the mystery bulb competition?The forst person to get it was Dreamybee . It´s Dracunculus vulgaris - an arum lily. When I saw the photo of the flowers they reminded me of the giant Titan arum that I´d heard of at Kew Gardens. But I was sure it couldn´t be that - firstly because it´s huge- over 10 foot high - and secondly because it stinks to high heaven. It puts out a smell like a rotting corpse to attract flies and other pollinating insects. Not a flower that anyone would want on the balcony.

So when I saw it, I just assumed it would be something different. But no -this may not be the titan arum, but it is a smaller cousin, and it has the same revolting smell. So I don´t think it´s going to be around for very long. Providing it survives, you´ll be seeing one photo - and then I´m afraid it will be down the waste chute with it. And next year, if I see any strange bulbs that I think might be fun to try, I think I´ll ask about them before I buy them ...

Anyway, as soon as I get home in the New Year, I shall get the cards off to Dreamybee as promised. And thanks to all of the rest of you who left comments too.

Winter is here ...

2009-12-15T10:27:00.000+01:00

Winter arrived this week, just in time for the December edition of Garden Bloggers' Bloom Day. I don't have much to show this year though - not like 2007 when I still had pelargoniums, marigolds and several other annuals in full bloom, or even 2008 when my antirrhinums were still going strong. This year, all that's in bloom are my chrysanthemums.

It's not been a cold autumn. Although recently it had started to get chillier, daytime temperatures were still reaching 10 or 11°C (50-52°F). And then suddenly the forecast was for maximum 7°C and minimum 3°C. Not freezing yet, but enough to start warning bells ringing in any gardener's mind. And when on Saturday morning I went out to find a bitterly cold north wind blowing - well, it was clearly time to put the balcony to bed.

And so at lunchtime I was outside making preparations for the winter. The last of the annuals - by now fading fast - got pulled up, and the perennials moved back from the balcony railings to nestle up to the warmth of the walls of the house. A little bit of water just to stop them drying out completely, and on went the fleece. All that's left now are the bulbs - many of which are already poking through. I've replanted the daffs and tulips from last year, to see if they'll do anything, and I also have several containers of mystery bulbs - bulbs I found in my London garden in the summer and brought back with me. They're all coming through well, but so far I've still not been able to recognise what they are. Some with long grass like stems may be snowflakes - but we'll have to wait and see.

And of course there's this year's new collection. I've said before that you virtually have to take out a mortgage to buy bulbs from the garden centres in Milan, and so every year I wait for the Fiera del Artigianato - a trade fair held in early December. It's hard to translate Artigianato. It means crafts - but has a much wider sense than the English word. The fair this year covered everything from what you would expect from the words crafts, to food, to furniture, to clothes, to solar panels and even boats. It's huge, and is divided into geographical areas. The Italian stands are grouped by regions, and the others by continents and then individual countries. So I spent three hours wandering around the world, drooled over some antique ceramics from China, had dinner in India, saw some incredible drumming and bagpipe playing in Scotland, bought some cheese in Switzerland (made with carrots, absolutely scrummy), and ended up in Holland where I have an annual date with a Dutch bulb stand.

And here's what I bought this year - from left to right : allium, fritillaria, freesia, dwarf iris, and lily of the valley. And one other bulb. But oh, was that a mistake ....

It intrigued me when I saw it on the stand. It had an interesting name and a strange flower which reminded me of something I'd heard of blooming at Kew Gardens, a bloom that was so rare it made the news. But no, obviously it couldn't it couldn't possibly be that .... So I thought I'd get one and check on the internet later to see exactly what it was. And oh, what a mistake I've made. this is something that has absolutely no place on a balcony. I'm going to be loathed and reviled by not only my family but also the neighbours. Really, I should throw it straight down the waste chute.

But of course I can't. So I've promised myself I'll grow it, let the flower open, take a photo and then cut it off and throw it out. Quickly. What is it and why does it terrify me so? Over to you. As it's Christmas, I'm giving away a little prize - five Balcony Garden greetings cards (similar to the one below) with some of the best photos from the last few years. First person to identify it and explain and why it's such a big mistake wins.

Christmas means Poinsettia ...

2009-12-13T23:00:00.001+01:00

...unfortunately for them. I wonder how many poinsettia are bought at Christmas, and how many are still alive a couple of months later? In fact, I wonder how many people who buy them even want them to be alive a couple of months later? Here in Italy, just before Easter, animal rights groups put up posters condemning the slaughter of lambs for Easter Sunday lunch. I reckon that at Christmas you could do the same for poinsettia ...

Poinsettia (Euphorbia pulcherrima)is native to Mexico - and if that isn't a clue that you'll kill it by bringing it home from the supermarket in temperatures not far above zero, I don't know what is. Even once you've got it home, it likes temperatures around 20-22°C (68-72°F)and lots of light. Don't overwater - it's prone to root rot - but don't let it get dry either.

By about February you'll find it starts to drop its leaves. Yours did and you thought it was dead and threw it away? Yes, I've made that mistake too. But no, it's just resting. Once a good part of the leaves have gone, cut it back to about 20-25cm, keep it fairly dry and at a slightly cooler temperature - but no lower than 15°C (59°F.

In late spring you can repot it and start watering again - but never let it get waterlogged. Use a mix of sand and compost, to guarantee drainage, and start to give it a liquid feed high in nitrogen every 20-30 days, and make sure it also has enough iron. Lack of nitrogen will result in small, slow growing, pale green leaves with yellowish brown blemishes, while lack of iron will lead to the leaves turning creamy white at the edges with brown areas between the veins. Oh - and don't forget the molybdenum - essential if the bracts are to have a strong colour.

In the heat of the summer it can stay outside - but beware. As if its fussiness about being fed wasn't enough, it's also prone to a host of pests and diseases - whitefly, blackfly, thrips, mealybugs, red spider mite, root rot, collar rot, mildew, and grey mould to name but a few. Though the fungal diseases can be avoided by ensuring it's never waterlogged, in humid conditions or given too much nitrogen - yes, I know, I know. You can't win, can you?

If you've ever seen the film When Harry Met Sally you'll know that Sally defines herself as a woman "who wants her cream on the side" (or something like that - I've only seen it in Italian so I'm translating.)In other words, somewhat fussy. And if ever there was a plant which wants its cream on the side, it must be Poinsettia.

And we've not finished yet. Let's say you manage to give it just the right amount of water and fertiliser, you protect it from the insect hordes (whoops - forgot the sap suckers who will instantly infect it with a virus)and get it through to the autumn. can you now relax and wait for those lovely coloured bracts to appear, ready for Christmas?

No way. Those bracts will only appear if for at least two months it's kept in darkness for at least 14 hours a day. That means from, say, 6pm to 8am. Though of course it wants light for the rest of the day. So forget working late in the evening or going out straight after work. Not to mention getting in before 9 in the morning. And they say kids can destroy your career and social life...

I'm starting to understand why everyone breathes a sigh of relief if their poinsettias don't make it through the holidays. It's like trying to cater for the biggest prima donna Hollywood has ever managed to produce.

So why has it become the Christmas plant par excellence? Well, clearly because of the star shape that the bracts form - but there's also a legend which is so nice that it almost makes you forgive the plant for being such a fusspot. If you search the web you'll find a wealth of different versions, but basically it goes something like this ...

There was once a little Mexican girl who was so poor that she had no gift to present to the Christ child at the Christmas Eve church service. Shamefully she picked a handful of weeds from the roadside, the only thing she could think of that she could take. Seeing her crying for the inadequacy of the gift and wanting to cheer her up, someone reassured her "Even the most humble gift, if given in love, will be acceptable in His eyes."

The girl arrived at the church, still scared to present such a poor gift to the baby Jesus despite the reassurance. But as she laid the handful of weeds by the crib they suddenly burst into a glorious display of red stars.

Since when we've all been desperately trying to keep our poinsettias alive from year to year, and generally failing pathetically. Ah well, perhaps this year...

Give Seeds this Christmas ...

2009-12-07T00:33:00.005+01:00

They don't know it yet, but my family will be getting something slightly different in their stockings this Christmas. It might be seeds, or four saplings. It could be a few chickens, or 365 eggs. Maybe schoolbooks or a health check -up ...

No - my family don't need 365 eggs, or health check-ups for Christmas. The gift isn't really for them. But in their name I'll be donating to a charity who will give the seeds, or the chickens, or the health check-up, to someone who does.

Expensive? No. There's a huge range of gifts for less than €15 - that's about US$22.50 or £13.50 at the current exchange rate. And some are only half that price.

Why am I giving them? Well, one reason is that I'm sick of trawling the shops for presents for people who already have everything they need. Don't worry - they'll have other presents, and if they've asked for anything special I'm sure Santa will oblige (just in case they're reading this and panicking ...). But often at Christmas I feel that I'm looking for presents to buy for the sake of it. Yes, a surprise is always nice, and during the year I note down anything that occurs to me that might suit one or other of them - but sometimes it's just consumerism for the sake of it. And I'm fed up with it.

And the other reason - well, just the ethical one. Most of us do have all we need even if we're not quite as rich as Bill Gates. Many people don't. Bill Gates can make a difference all on his own. The rest of us can't - but just imagine if every blogger in the world who could afford it bought a charity gift costing somewhere between $1 and $15 this Christmas. Together we would make a difference - at least to the lives of a significant number of individuals.

Choose the cause you prefer - that doesn't matter. It could be hunger, education, climate change, animal rescue, health, education - or a wealth of other issues. There's so much to change in the world that, sadly, whatever most angers you is catered for. Here are a few possibilities, all under the €15 limit - but there are hundreds of others, obviously including gifts which are more expensive if you can afford more. Check out the sites for yourself.

Oxfam is my favourite for easily affordable gifts. You can buy 5 bags of seeds to aid self sufficiency for a third world family for £10, give a chicken for £11, or provide safe water for 10 people for £9. Then there are school supplies for £7, mosquito nets for £11 and many, many more. If you want to pay more, how about planting an allotment for £24?

Or over at Save the Children ,for £7 you can pay for a week's high protein food for a malnourished child. Or you could buy a child a breakfast egg per day for a year for £14, or a pair of shoes for £10.

Nothing grabs you yet? Then try the shop of the related sites The Hunger Site, The Rainforest Site, The Breast Cancer Site, the Child Health Site, the Literacy Site and The Animal Rescue Site. There for $15 you can help remove landmines in Mozambique, care for a street animal in India or plant a vegetable garden in Rwanda.

These are just examples. The shops of all the sites include many, many more gifts in all price ranges. So if there's someone that you just can't think of a present for - well, perhaps they don't really need anything. But maybe someone else does.

Where in the world is Bilbo? Milan

2009-11-27T17:02:00.009+01:00

Now, if you'd told me a year ago that there would be a gnome on my balcony, I'd probably have laughed at you. But that was before I came across Bilbo.

Because Bilbo is no ordinary garden gnome. Bilbo is an intrepid explorer who has ben working his way around the world since April, when he left his family blog - Trials and Tribulations of a Southern Gardener - to go visiting. He's already visited blogs in eight different states in the US, Canada, Ireland and three different places in England. He's got some great stories - he's especially proud of having been to Buckingham Palace to have tea in the Queen's own café when he visited Matron. He's a bit foggy about some of the details - I can't quite work out whether Her Majesty was behind the tea urn at the time or serving the scones ...

And now he's here in Milan. He'd come all the way from Alberquerque, where he'd been to see Briana at I Can't Decide. By the time he arrived I was starting to get seriously worried. He'd been travelling for over three weeks, and only just made it in time. His sandwiches had run out the day before, and I suspect he'd been rationing them for the last week or so. He looked a bit pale and thin, so - being in Italy - a big plate of pasta was clearly called for. But after tucking into his spaghetti alla carbonara, he perked up considerably and started entertaining us with the tales of his travels.

We'd decided to let him rest for the first day, but he's a lively little chap and not the type to stay still for long. So he'd soon got us all playing hide and seek on the balcony. He won of course because he could slip into so many spaces. It took me ages to find him when he hid in my chrysanthemums ...

Then the next day we started on some serious sightseeing. Bilbo was very impressed with Milan's cathedral ...

.. and he also enjoyed Piazza della Scala. I think he was less bothered about the Opera House (top photo) though, than the giant snails we found in the square.

Bilbo will be here for another few days, but I know he's already anxious to move on. Where will he go next? He'd like to visit all your blogs and is just waiting for an invitation. I know that he'd like to visit other countries in Europe, but he also keeps talking about all the continents he's not yet seen. And then when he talks about the places has has been to he gets terribly nostalgic and says how much he'd like to go back. So wherever you are, I know he'd like to visit you.

Now, you may be wondering if it's safe for such a little chap to be gadding about the world on his own. Don't worry - his adopted Mum, Dirt Princess, has set up some strict rules and regulations to keep him safe. Turn to the Comments below and you'll see them posted there. But if you would like to have Bilbo to stay, all you need to do is leave a comment of your own and in a couple of days he'll choose where he wants to go next. The next stay will probably be quite special. If it takes as long for him to get from here to you as it did from Briana to me, then you might well be hosting him for Christmas ...