little green fingers

Artificial grass, TOWIE tans and never saying never

In my book fakes aren’t necessarily a bad thing.  I’m not averse to the odd spray tan (provided the needle doesn’t tip towards the TOWIE end of the scale), my hair is quite used to a helping hand in the colour department and I think I can confidently say the orange handbag I bought in that Chinese market is not a genuine ‘Birkin’ (the fact it began shedding its skin in the manner of a snake on a growth spurt should have been a giveaway).

And then there’s artificial grass.

I used to have quite a snooty attitude about this. “Pah!” I thought. “Never!” I thought.  But I shall never say never again (not that it’s wise to live life entirely by Bond movie titles; whilst diamonds are forever, the world really ought to be enough for anyone and I know Buddhists will disagree but I’m fairly sure you only live once).

So yes, I have softened towards artificial grass.  And before you get cross with me, I don’t mean in all circumstances, but there are times when it’s a good option. 

Take the project I finished last week. A day nursery right in the centre of Peterborough. Convenient?  Yes.  A green oasis?  Not exactly.  In fact the garden consisted of a modest-sized space between two tall buildings, bordering a car park and a street and laid to concrete – enticing huh?

Oh, and the brief (that really should have been delivered by Laurence Llewelyn-Bowen in ruffled shirt and suitably theatrical arm gestures) was “natural with a hint of magic”

Well, guess what - turf doesn’t grow on concrete, you can’t put a safety surface under turf, turf doesn’t grow well in shade and turf cannot be cut into pretty rolling hill shapes and glued to the wall or used to cover the roofing felt on your playhouses and bins. Artificial grass on the other hand…

 So there you have it. Some fakes are good. Although to be fair, not in the handbag department. 

 

Pot snails, press trips and giant moles

"Christian!  NON!"

There is something almost pleasurable about hearing a child reprimanded when you know that, for once, it's got nothing to do with you.  Instead I was able to smile knowingly at Christian's beleaguered parents in the gardens at Villandry with a look that I hoped conveyed just enough "I feel your pain" sympathy and not too much of the "...but I'm so pleased he's not with me".

Yes, last weekend I was in France on a four day, child-free press trip to the Loire Valley. It's OK. You’re allowed to hate me.

I had explained to the family that this was work but the looks that came my way made it very clear that no-one was buying this story and that if I didn't come back with at least their bodyweight in chocolate, I would not be welcome.

To add insult to injury I was planning to write a piece on child-friendly gardens in the region but without actually taking any of my kids with me.

As it turns out, the gardens we visited were historically fascinating (Chateau de Chenonceau) and beautifully atmospheric (Chateau de Valmer), boasted world leading plant collections (Chateau de Bourdaisiere) and the most impressively vast and downright gorgeous potager I've ever seen (Chateau de Villandry), but child-friendly?  Not so much.

It’s not that children wouldn’t be welcome – they most certainly would.  And, of course, these gardens all offered plenty of space for running around and screaming in a manner designed to fray the nerves of anyone in earshot – always one of the top five favourite activities for my own kids.  However, they were all just a bit too... grown up.

Thankfully, we were also taken to Chateau du Rivau – somewhere I’d written about before, but which I’d never had the chance to visit  - and here, most unusually, keeping the kids entertained seems to be top of the agenda.

First of all, it could easily be mistaken for Sleeping Beauty’s palace – it’s reminiscent of the Disney Castle, but without the worry that a seven foot tall Goofy may round the corner at any minute. And if the kids needed to get more in the mood, you can even hire princess and knight costumes in the Chateau’s shop.

Everywhere there are things for children to spot.  Some of the ‘art’ and installations might not be to everyone’s taste, but the garden itself creates enough intrigue to keep kids entertained for hours. Beginning with a courtyard which married squash and pumpkin displays with giant moles and real life strutting peacocks, you walked through garden after garden, each with something to thrill the under 10s: plant pot snails, tree necklaces, hammocks galore, ogres' hideaways, giraffe see saws, Rapunzel's tower, giant legs walking through the woods, Alice in Wonderland's maze and garden looking glasses, gnomes at home, oversized wellies and gigantic plant pots.

Best of all, it's very near to most of the other Loire Valley gardens and only 40km from Villandry.  If only all parents knew, things could be so different.

"Christian! NON! Nous tu permettrons d'aller au château du Rivau. Maintenant, relâchez le chou. EN CE MOMENT!"

 

Yorkshire runs, Harlow Carr and lattes

I have started running.  Well, I say running, but what I am actually doing could best me described as 'ralking' - more walking than running.  On day one I was almost mown down by a car as I couldn't hear it's engine over the noise of my wheezing. Admittedly, after a week I have almost graduated to 'wunning' but it's a slow progress and highlights what I have come to realise - I'm a Southern wuss.

Nothing underlines this fact as much as our annual visit to friends up in Yorkshire.  We were there a couple of weeks ago and were met by Jane with the words "sorry, I was just having a rest on the sofa - I did a 20 mile run this morning." 20 miles? That shouldn't even be described as a 'run'.  A run does not do it justice. It should at least merit 'an odyssey at speed'.  But no, Up North, 20 miles at pace across the moor is just a 'run'.  And Andy's 'bike ride' the next morning was also just 'a bike ride' even though I suspect he crossed a county line or two before rendezvousing with us at RHS Harlow Carr...

...which is what I really meant to talk to you about.  I probably should have mentioned this last week, but I got all distracted with emergency bikinis and Mr Bloom's cheekbones. As you do.

Yes, in my not-at-all-regular-and-possibly-just-this-minute-made-up series of "Garden visits with children" I thought I'd focus on Harlow Carr, the RHS's Yorkshire garden and a surprisingly welcoming spot for families.

Best bits for kids

Stamping - each of the children was given a Plant Hunter Passport which was a great idea - mostly because it guided them around the garden, challenging them to spot different plants and undertake various activities in the geographically themed sections of the garden.  There were even strange hole-puncturing implements to stamp your passport with in each zone.

Of course, my three children managed to drop, lose or argue over whose passport was whose, but I'm sure 'normal' children would get on fine with these - and it does allow adults to see the whole garden before being dragged off to child-centric features.

Craggle Top Tree House - one of those 'child-centric features', hidden away in a wooded area of the garden, this is a new feature in the garden and offers, not only the tree house ("it's not a tree house, it's just on stilts" - Ava) but also rope and log walkways. Oh, and there are a couple of handily located picnic benches for adults who have decided they really need to sit and recover with a coffee.

Log Maze - Personally, I think 'maze' is overdoing it - the challenge would be not to find the centre - but still a fun place to play chase with the children.  Or to watch Jane chase the children (she runs 20 miles people, this was just a short warm down exercise and, you know, that latte wasn't going to drink itself).

Garden games -  large wooden versions of classic games have been placed on a lawned area so the kids were able to play snakes and ladders, Jenga, Connect 4... while I watched, with a coffee.

Log ness monster - what came first, the feature or the pun? Logs that can be walked upon, up and down until arrival at the monsters head (which looked slightly cock-eyed having had children walk over it for months on end).

Bird hide - although possibly not best visited directly after a scream-infested game of chase.

Kitchen garden - with sweet pea tunnels, snaking pathways and even a few chickens.

Bettys Tea Room - so OK, more for me than the kids, but it's Bettys so I couldn't leave it out.

We were there three hours and could easily have stayed another two without running out of things to see, but then my daughter did what many nine-year-old girls do - became possessed by Beelzebub - and we cut short our visit.

Thankfully, next week I shall be able to give you another tour of child friendly gardens as I'm off to the Loire Valley.  I shall not be taking any actual children of course - although I might bring along the latte.

Drawing pins, long grass and village picnics

We have no drawing pins left in the house.  This can only mean one thing: we are in for a very busy June.

Yes, right now, my entire drawing pin collection is holding up a scary collection of notices around the village. And, in true Linda Snell form, I seem to be involved in all three events.  It begins with our NGS garden opening on June 9th. For some reason, I am shocked to find that this is three weeks tomorrow.  I  shouldn't be shocked; we have a piece of new fangled technology in the kitchen - a calender I think they call it - but still, in my head, we're not opening for at least another three months.

A week after this there is the village barn dance, which I won't be able to attend as I shall be gardening and crafting with children at Gardeners World Live but that doesn't excuse me from decorating duties (14 table coverings, four confederate flags, half a dozen strategically placed hay bales and 50 metres of my homemade bunting... in case you were wondering).

And in between the two we have the official opening of our village playground.  Yes, it is complete.  In fact it has been complete for a few weeks but a) I forgot to mention it at the time and b) by the time I remembered I had other things on my mind like broken arms, trips to China and very large tents.

(To be fair I still have very large tents on my mind as one of the marquee stakes managed to go through not only a water pipe but also a waste pipe. However, dwelling on sewerage and cross contamination is not a nice way for anyone to spend a Friday afternoon - unless you are an evil mastermind with a particular interest in pollution I guess - so instead I'll talk playgrounds.)

The latest cause for celebration is completing the work which has been funded by our grant from WREN for £45,000.  This has enabled us to add to the excitement of a mound (which, in these "flatlands", was already quite exciting for the kids) with a climbing wall and double slide.  We also put in a bird nest swing, more picnic tables, a basketball, football goal and cricket stump area and a very cool mini BMX track.

We have also added a couple of features for which I fought quite hard.

The first is a figure of eight pathway across the whole area so that people can walk through and enjoy the playground in all weathers, and which also doubles as a great cycle path. 

The second is long grass.

To be fair, this didn't exactly take much money - well OK, it took none - but it will make a big difference to the space.  Leaving sections of the grass long for the season will bring in insects which will, in turn, bring in birds and other wildlife.  It will give children different, wilder areas to play in, allow flowers to grow and soften the edges of the field to detract from the rigid boundaries. 

In terms of maintenance, the longer grass will be cut at the end of the summer or start of autumn, although each year we will leave one area uncut to give insects a place to overwinter.

So on June 10th we will be celebrating our new playground with a picnic and an afternoon of sports and games.  And, yes, 50 metres of homemade bunting.

Mother's day, wooden kitchens and second childhoods

I am the woman who asked for a swing for her birthday, so no-one should be shocked when I say that for Mother's Day I treated myself to a new wooden kitchen for the garden playhouse.

With accessories... obviously.

I may be entering my second childhood a few decades earlier than planned.

Progressive suppers, sunglasses and paddling pools

On Sunday I was recovering from a progressive supper. 

For those of you unfamiliar with the concept, this is when you have a dinner party on the move - starters at one house, mains at another, dessert elsewhere.  And as if having 15 couples traipsing through the village between courses wasn't intriguing enough, you don't actually know who you'll be hosting before they turn up, and no idea where you're headed next until you open the envelope at the end of each course.

They are also called "safari suppers" but this seems a slightly odd name considering there's no big game to spot and not a pith helmet in sight.  "Progressive supper" is far more fitting as you get progressively chattier, progressively squiffier and, as I found out, progressively more likely to misplace your mobile phone as the evening goes on.

So, as you can imagine, I wasn't rising early the next morning, and probably wouldn't have done so before midday had my daughter not bounded into the room and declared "We're going into the garden.  Are you coming?".

Yes, there comes a time each year when the garden rather than the house suddenly seems to be the kids default entertainment space - and Sunday was it.

In no particular order, the children...

• jumped on the trampoline
• sowed seeds
• set up camp inside a crocus ring
• restocked the mud pie kitchen
• played tag
• swung on the hammock
• tidied their gardens
• made lists of crops to sow
• dug in the sandpit
• jumped on the hopscotch
• watered plants
• checked on Bernard the Bumblebee (more on him another time)
• threw frisbees
• splashed in the paddling pool

And in no particular order, I...

• donned sunglasses
• drank tea
• took painkillers
• lay on the hammock
• made rather feeble attempts to suggest that, as it is STILL WINTER (I have two words for you people - Spring Equinox) the paddling pool probably shouldn't come out.  I lost that argument.

 

Swing sets, Danish dramas and significant birthdays

Photo Source: Sitting Spiritually

Buy cheap, buy twice.

I employ this phrase quite regularly.  It's a useful way to pretend you are a prudent investor whilst simultaneously spending far too much money on an item.

I've said it a lot recently.

The reason?  A swing.

You see we have an old swing in the garden but it's becoming a bit too 'swingy'.  I know this is like complaining that rain is too wet or a Danish drama about murder is a bit too gloomy, but it is true. Whilst I find it perfectly normal behaviour for the seats to rock back and forth, it becomes slightly disturbing when the entire frame follows suit.

Also, in common with most other play equipment, our swing set is only made for children.  In my opinion this is an error.  Swings, like university, free time and youth, are wasted on the young. If I'm buying a new set of swings I want to make sure I get to go on them.

This (and my aforementioned gravitation towards the pricey end of the market) led me to put in an order last week with Sitting Spiritually.  They have a sturdy, classic design in oak or cedar and, not only do they take adults as well as children, they even have a drinks shelf option. Genius.

Delivery won't be for a few more weeks, but I do get sent photo updates.  This one is of the engraved seats.  I may have to put a copy in my purse - alongside shots of the children.

Sadly, none of this comes cheaply so I am justifying the purchase as my birthday present.  Thankfully it's a significant number this year (let's pretend it starts with a '3' - it doesn't, but, hey it's my blog) which makes  the extravagance a little more bearable. However, a word to the wise: "I'd really like to be able to swing on my birthday" is not such a great phrase to use.

Broken resolutions, essay extensions and tractor tyres

Source: Irresistible Ideas for Play Based Learning

I was somewhat depressed this week by the realisation that of my five new year's resolutions last year, I only managed to tick off one (and, in the spirit of full disclosure, my father actually completed this on my behalf).

I still don't keep chickens, there is no Pete Beale style market stall for the kid's to flog their produce, the school has singularly failed to take up my offer of helping with Gardening Club, and most pathetic of all, I can't seem to blog on even a weekly basis.

So I've decided to treat my resolutions on the same basis as I treated every single weekly essay in college.  I shall ask for an extension.

I shall also... hmmm, how shall I put this? Cheat. A bit. Just, you know, to make sure I keep this blog a little less sporadic.

Yes, much in the same way I always borrowed Jen's revision notes because they were more thorough than mine, better thought through and best of all, legible, I shall, on occasion, use a blog post to point you towards superior content online. This will hopefully mean you see interesting things, whilst I can bathe in the reflected glory of someone else's genius.

This week, a sandpit caught my eye.  I spotted it on the Studio 'g' blog but the original idea was actually from Irresistible Ideas for Play Based Learning - an Australian blog. Very simple, very cheap (provided you can find a tyre to recycle) and incredibly effective.  The long bamboo poles can be covered with sailcloth or a similar outdoor material but you could just use an old sheet and simply accept it will have a shorter lifespan.

For anyone offended by the black rubber exterior, it would be easy enough to plant around the edges and soften the look.  In a sunny spot, something like Stipa tenuissima would give movement and is a very tactile plant for kids.

Screen free sundays, Maria von Trapp and mud pie kitchens

I worked in PR for many years but I'm starting to think that I never really left behind my life of 'spin'. You see, reading this blog you could get a warped sense of my existence. It may appear, for example, that I am a hands-on mother with a Maria von Trapp complex who leads her children in an endless round of healthy, outdoor activities.

You would be wrong.

In fact my children watch a lot of telly, play endless games on the Wii and have more than a passing acquaintance with computers and the world of Nintendo DS. Of course, in common with most mothers, I have developed a deep sense of guilt about this which I have learnt to live with in the same way I have learnt to live with most other unsettling thoughts - by studiously ignoring them. 

Then a few months ago I read about a woman who led her family in a technology free month.  " Wow" I thought.  "That's impressive" I thought. "We should so do that" I thought.

Of course, I am nothing if not a realist and I knew that a month would be pushing it.  As would a week. Or, you know, an entire weekend. But, hey, a day a month is a start, isn't it? Plus, I didn't want to shock the kids with too much cold turkey.

So we let the children know the plan earlier in the week and made it sound exciting (as I say, you can take the girl out of PR...) then, on Saturday night, I unplugged the telly and Wii, packed away the laptops and put the DS' out of sight before heading to bed.

So, how did it go?

Well, my biggest worry was Archie who, at three and a half, is transfixed by anything on screen. He will alter the wallpaper on my iPhone on a daily basis, execute some impressively complex moves to Wii Just Dance and happily recite dialogue from Tangled - his current movie of choice - at the breakfast table (and believe me "I AM THE LOST PRINCESS, AREN'T I?" yelled over the cereal bowls doesn't make for a relaxing meal).

But surprisingly, he didn't seem too bothered. After finding none of the tellies working and getting a swift 'no' to any other screen requests, he followed his siblings outside. Here they entertained themselves for quite some time - mostly in making 'magic mixtures'.

For the uninitiated 'magic mixtures' are really just buckets of water to which sand, soil, feathers, twigs and general garden debris are added and mixed together. The 'magic' prefix is obviously just proof that the talent for positive spin is carried in the genes.

There was also some bug hunting, trampolining, flower arranging, painting, reading, playing with expensive midget animals (or Sylvanian families as they are more traditionallly known) but in a 'time entertained' vs 'parental effort involved' magic mixtures topped the poll.

As such I am now wondering how I can exploit this Nintendo alternative further.  A bit of online research has shown me that what I really need is a mud pie kitchen. Like this:

Source: Rhythm of the Home

Or this:

Source: The Child's Paper

Or even this:

Source: Pepper Paints

A perfect way to entertain the kids without a screen in sight.

Sadly, this still leaves the other problem with 'Screen Free Sunday"... me.

You see, whilst the kids were fine, I had to be told (several times) that "no, you can't look that up on the computer", 'yes, an iPhone still counts as a screen" and most depressingly of all "sorry, but you'll just have to record the Strictly Come Dancing results show."

It was torture.

Playground funding, landfill sites and allium golf balls

'Landfill', 'tax' and 'offsets' - not usually three words I get particularly excited about but right now they may as well be 'Strictly' 'Come' and 'Dancing' for the effect they are having on my adrenalin levels.

Let me explain.

Our local play area - yes, the one I was banging on about last year (here, here and here) - has just been awarded a grant of £45,000 from WREN to complete the final phase of its redevelopment. Anyone trying to raise funds for community projects will know how tricky it's becoming. To be fair, we've been very fortunate to date. Firstly, we were awarded a large grant from Cambridgeshire Play Pathfinder (now, sadly, defunct) which helped build a fort, zipwire, shelter, willow tunnel, climbing logs, sandpit and mound. Then we had enough money from Awards for All to complete a trim trail. But after this we were struggling to find any other funds to complete the final phase.

But, we are lucky.  You see, we live a few miles from a landfill site. Now I'll admit, this isn't usually something you boast about and I'm sure Kirstie and Phil would have something to say on the matter, but I for one am delighted by our location, location, location.

You see, if you live within 10 miles of a Waste Recycling Group landfill site, you are eligible to apply for funding. I won't go into the details here, because it would strain my brain, and probably send you to sleep (it involves the phrase - offsetting tax liabilities - I rest my case), but in essence the cash comes from landfill tax and is there to improve the lives of communities living near the sites.

Funding can be for all sorts of projects in the community, conservation, heritage, regeneration or young people categories and has included such things as installing outdoor gyms, restoring wetlands, redeveloping gardens and creating new play areas. If you think this might help you, I urge you to have a look through the details here - and particularly the bit about Contributing Third Parties.

With our grant we are hoping to complete the entire playground project by next Easter with pathways through the area, a new climbing wall and slide installed on the mound, an earth-based BMX circuit, a new birds nest swing, more picnic tables plus a basketball hoop and all weather playing surface.

Of course, for me, I'm at least as interested in the soft landscaping areas. Those beds planted last year and this have been an interesting exercise in learning what will survive harsh winters, spring droughts, zero maintenance and close proximity to over-excited children.

The best performers have to be the grasses - Miscanthus sinensis 'Morning Light' and Stipa gigantea - followed by Verbena bonariensis, which not only flowers for an extraordinarily long time, but has also seeds itself very effectively.

On top of this, I'd put in a good word for Centranthus ruber (which spreads like billy-oh but that's no bad thing in this situation), Achillea 'Moonshine', Sambucus 'Black Lace' (quick to establish and a great, dark backdrop), Veronicastrum virginicum 'Fascination' (great height and no need to stake), Stachys 'Silver Carpet" (great weed-suppressing groundcover - vital when weeding is so haphazard) and Rudbeckia fulgida var. sullivantii 'Goldsturm' (brilliant colour and long lasting).

And just a few last words of caution. Never plant alliums in a children's play area. They apparently look like enormous golf balls, all teed up and ready to be batted as far as possible across the grass.