little green fingers

Amaryllis bulbs, norovirus visits and motherly predictions

As I rubbed my son's back at 3am on Thursday morning whilst he bent over the toilet bowl and I clutched a sick bowl in my lap, I realised of all the things I'd hoped to share with my children this half term, the Norovirus was not top of the list.

It put something of a dampener on other plans such as bowling, swimming or even just wandering about without being hit by waves of nausea. Still, on the bright side, we were at least able to do some indoor gardening.  Or, more accurately, some indoor garden measuring.

We had gone to visit my parents in Lincolnshire and on arrival my mother had an idea.  She was growing an amaryllis (or technically an Hippeastrum) bulb on a sunny windowsill and swore it was putting on "a couple of inches a day".  I took this with a pinch of salt.  My mother is not averse to a dramatic statement.  To be fair this is usually limited to a succinct and decided commentary on world news or local dramas ("It's never going to last", "she did it", or "I don't trust that man - just look at his face") but I didn't see why she would draw the line at bulbs.

But the children attached a white sticker to the cane in line with the tip of the bulb on Tuesday, and by the time we shuffled out of the house on Thursday, paler and thinner than we arrived, it really had grown. Rather a lot.

This experiment would work equally well outside as things are growing apace in the garden.  You could simply push in a cane next to an emerging bulb and ask the children to draw a line where it has reached with a permanent marker or an acrylic paint pen, then check back on progress each week.

And to be fair, I should have known better than to doubt my mother.  Invariably it didn't last, she did do it and he usually turned out to be completely untrustworthy. 

Snow lanterns, ski jackets and thermal wellies

I'm not good with the cold. Yesterday I was wearing thermal-lined wellie boots and an electric blue ski jacket.  This is worrying, not just from a fashion standpoint, but also because I was only in the kitchen.

Still, as we are, very definitely, in snow territory at the moment, I decided this week to embrace the current weather and get the children in the garden.

We actually didn't have a huge amount of the white stuff.  Not really enough to make a snowman, but plenty to construct some snow lanterns.

These are a doddle.

Just roll a few snowballs and place them in a circle with gaps between each.  Then simply add more layers, each one smaller than the last, until there is only a small gap at the top (this lets the heat escape).

When it's getting dark, take a tea light and push it through one of the gaps until it's in the centre before lighting it with a long taper.

They look really effective by the side of a pathway or drive and, when the weather's this chilly they will last for days - just light a new tea light each time.

Plus, they look particularly good when viewed from indoors. In the warm. Wearing thermal wellies and a ski jacket.

Slurry tanks, French horns and pushy parents

So there I was on Friday night: lying in the bath, sipping a cold beer and thinking.

This is quite unusual.  Not the bath or beer bit, but most definitely the ‘thinking’.  Usually I listen to the Archers on iPlayer or watch Come Dine with Me.  In these circumstances my thoughts are usually limited to “how can a new slurry tank cost £20,000?” or “when did it become OK for dinner party guests to rummage through your wardrobe before the starters are served?”. Both good questions by the way – do feel free to let me know the answers.

But on Friday, there was none of this and it was all the Smurfs’ fault.  OK, not directly, but if the children weren’t so addicted to a hideous game in which they build Smurf villages, mix Smurf potions and harvest Smurf crops, our iPad might not have needed recharging.

But it did, so back to the thinking.

My thoughts were on an article I’d read earlier in the week.  It was about a new book in which a mother advises parents on ways to get their children into a good school.

As always when reading something on this subject I became concerned that my own offspring may have been short changed. 

My choice for their school was based on nothing more than geography and copying someone else’s homework (which, come to think about it, sounds quite apt).  The school is near enough to cycle should our car break down or I have a sudden urge to improve my fitness levels and also, my mate Lucy looked round all the schools and thought this one was good. “That’ll do for us then”, I thought.  “ No need to actually visit them myself or read pesky Ofsted reports – after all I’m very busy.  I mean that episode of Come Dine with me won’t watch itself now will it?”

Of course I’m talking state education here whereas the article was about private schools.  Mistakenly I thought in this difficult economic climate, parting with huge amounts of cash on a termly basis should be enough to get you in but apparently not.  Instead the piece painted a picture of a cut throat world where parents attempt to collar the best private tutors, invest in interview coaching and try to outdo each other in extra curricular face offs.

What struck me was the part where the mother, thinking that her daughter reaching grade 4 on the piano would help her application, instead found that it was far too commonplace.  Firstly grade 5 or even 6 was the expected standard and secondly the more unusual instruments were apparently the sought after ones.  I think the question “After all, which school orchestras out there aren’t desperate for a good French Horn player?” may have even been posed.  The gist of it being; it’s more about the skills a school needs than the achievement itself.

And that’s when I had a brainwave.  

Gardening. 

Yes, school gardens are practically compulsory these days.  What’s more I imagine this level of private school delights in opening theirs for cream teas to impress the parents (probably with the school brass section, complete with French horn, adding atmosphere in the background).

So there you have it.  Pushy parents around the country seeking an edge in school entries, need look no further than horticulture.  After all, which headteacher with eyes on a Yellow Book opening next year wouldn’t sit up and take note when little Hermione says “Oh no I don't play piano any more - I gave it up to spend more time on my potager. I mean a four-year crop rotation cycle and ornamental cutting garden won’t just plan themselves will they Miss Simkins?”

Brilliant, huh?

That’s the power of Radox and Peroni right there.

Next week I shall probably tackle the Middle East crisis.

 

Kids' Garden Christmas Gifts: Rounders, Egglings and carrots called Coriander

 

 



Yesterday the children and I planted nine crocus rings in the lawn.  I was feeling smugly pleased with myself until I remembered it's mid December and I'd planned to have these in the ground two months ago.

Yes, it's fair to say I'm running just a little behind this year.

So quite frankly I think it's impressive I've got this list of Christmas garden gifts for kids ready before January.  And a lot more useful.

Egglings - Oh, go on say it again. Egglings. Yes, now one of my favourite words and also an egg-shaped planter which you crack by tapping lightly with a spoon to uncover some pre-sown seeds flower or herb seeds for windowsill growing. And did I mention they're called Egglings? (clickshop.com £6.80 and free delivery)

Square Foot Garden - Square foot gardening is a great way to get kids started with growing and great for a small space.  The colours available are not exactly subtle but then neither are kids. (Green Frog Designs - £56 incl free shipping to UK)

Funky Propagator Pods - Propagating kit with a much more child-friendly design. However, I'm not sure it's wise to describe your own product as 'funky' - especially as the US definition of the word is "Having a strong, offensive, unwashed odor". (notonthehighstreet.com £16.99 plus £2.75 UK delivery)

Young Gardener's Hamper - Filled with Moleskin notebooks, Haw's watering can, wooden handled trowel and fork and vintage terracotta pot, this is obviously much too good for any child. I suggest borrowing it all back as quickly as possible. (Clifton Nurseries £41.95 plus delivery)

Matchstick Gardens - great stocking fillers - just don't spend too long working out the cost-per-seed ratio. (thebalconygardener.com £2.75 plus delivery)

Family Rounders Set - You remember rounders?  It's baseball, but less cool. And I love it for that reason alone. (the worm that turned £39.95 plus £5.95 delivery)

Personalised Mini Wooden Planter - because, egotists that they are, kids love to have their names on anything. (notonthehighstreet.com £19 plus £4.75 delivery)

Soft Toy Vegetables - a good garden based gift for the younger children although I'm not sure the alliterative names work so well. Tammy the tomato and Lucy the leek are bad enough but Coriander the carrot is just downright confusing for the poor thing. (kids in the garden from £8.99 each with free delivery) 

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. 

 

Glue sticks, autumn leaves and centaur hooves

As a woman with a weakness for double-sided sticky tape, I can tell you with some authority that craft materials get very pricey. It’s all well and good the children recycling the living daylights out of old cereal boxes and toilet roll inners but the glue sticks they use to join this detritus together are getting so expensive I feel sure they’re made from the ground hooves of centaurs.

Oh and don’t try to tell me you can buy cheap, own brand versions, I need something that can stick surface A to surface B not something that will simply dampen and darken a surface whilst endowing it with the adhesive properties of a light drizzle. Thankfully, we’re in what some people call ‘autumn’ but which I call ‘free stuff falling from trees’. Yes, that’s right. Look around. We’re surrounded by multi-coloured craft materials in abundant supplies.

What’s more, if I nonchalantly pick up a few leaves and being laying them on the lawn my children become instantly intrigued. “What are you doing?”

Here I just shrug and mutter “Oh, you know, nothing really…”

That will do it. Within two minutes the kids will have taken over the job from this obviously incompetent adult and have created pictures with more creativity and imagination than I could possibly muster.

And not a glue stick in sight. Which is very good news for my purse. And a relief to centaurs.

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.

Emergency bikinis, made up sports and Mr Bloom's cheekbones

Let's face it,  I've taken tardiness to a new low.  It's been weeks since I last blogged but, in my very weak defence, it has been an unusually busy summer.  In no particular order I have...

...spent over two weeks watching medal-winning triumphs in a range of sports, many of which I knew none of the rules for, a couple of which I didn't know existed, and at least one of which I still think is made up).

...holidayed on the Lincolnshire Coast in such a heat wave that I was forced to buy an emergency bikini (sadly, Chapel St Leonards offers only one fashion outlet - it is called Rummages and relies rather heavily on animal print motifs so I spent several days looking like a late entry to the Glamorous Granny swimsuit round).

...journeyed up to Edinburgh to see my friend Viv perform at the Fringe and discovered the holy grail - well, OK, Prosecco on draft at a bar... but it's close

...and, as they say, much, much more.

But as none of this has anything to do with kids or gardening, I should probably focus instead on...

...Mr Bloom's Nursery.

Yes, the team at Cbeebies are in the middle of filming the third series which means I have spent many hours this summer in my role as horticultural adviser answering deliciously random questions such as "would a caterpillar or a worm make a better pet for a fennel?" (in case you're wondering, I plumped for the caterpillar). 

Even more excitingly, I was actually able to take the children to meet Mr Bloom in person.  This summer has seen the show go on the road with nearly as many dates as a Rolling Stones tour.  The events - called Get Set, Grow! - included lots of nature and growing activites and games for kids as well as a live performace with the intriguing title of When Julian Lost his Wriggle. The last time I spoke to the series producer he said 30,000 people had attended the tour, and there were still some dates to go. 

I'm rather chuffed at how well Mr Bloom's Nursery has done. Getting a second series in kids TV isn't easy and getting a third is rare.  I'll admit, for the kids, the puppets are probably the biggest draw, and I'll not even begin to discuss Mr Bloom's effect on mothers across the UK, but there is a fair amount of gardening sneaked in under the radar. 

So yes, there have been veggie fashion shows, ladybird balls and runner beans on scooters, but there has also been companion planting, composting and a discussion of the benefits of mulch. And if this doesn't impress you, series three will.  Forget Gardeners' World, if you want to know how to force chicory, grow watercress or perform T-bud grafting, you'll just need to watch a programme with talking veg and a rather chirpy gardener possessing, as one tweeter put it "cheekbones you could shave parmesan with". 

All this, and a singing aubergine. Monty must be getting worried.

Crank calls, TV shows and mud pies

"Hello?  Is that Dawn Isaac?"

"Yes."

"Don't worry, this isn't a crank call."

At this point I became slightly concerned.  Was this the same as someone saying "I don't mean to be rude..." before beginning a character assassination?  Still, I thought, how cranky can a call really be?  Indeed, what exactly is crank? Most of these questions were still running through my head as I realised the woman was still speaking.

"Were you on Love Your Garden last week?"

"Ah", I thought.  "So this is it." 10 seconds on ITV and already I am suffering from press intrusion.  Next thing you know I'll have paparazzi hiding behind my compost bin and I shan't be able to put out the milk bottles without donning a baseball cap and dark glasses.

"Yes. Yes I was," I sighed, wondering in the back of my mind what outfit I should select for the Leveson Inquiry.

"Oh good.  Can you tell me what that plant is.  You know, the dark, kind of purpley one with the pink flowers."

"Um, yes, it's Sambucus nigra 'Black Lace'".

"Sambuca?"

And then proceeded a relatively long exchange where I spelt out each and every word, so worried was I that the poor woman would end up trying to plant a dodgy bottle of readily flammable booze.

Yes, this is undoubtedly the beginning and end of my TV appearances.  Myself, my garden, but let's face it, mostly my very gorgeous four-year-old son featured in a small piece on Love Your Garden last week. If you haven't caught the series, it is basically Alan Titchmarsh doing garden makeovers and "any resemblance to programmes living or dead is entirely coincidental".

I get the sense people in gardening circles may be a little sniffy about the show.  I do understand their concerns.  Many will decry the fact that Latin names aren't used, and even more will complain about "instant gardening" which is expensive and often unrealistic, but to be honest I think this completely misses the point.  This is not about gardening, but giving people a garden to enjoy - these are two very different things but the latter will almost always lead to the former. I've designed enough in my time to realise that non-gardeners who ask for a low maintenance space are simply scared by the idea of looking after plants.  Give them a great garden they want to be in and before you know it they will be boring you with details of how well their roses are doing this year.

What's more, any prime time programme on gardening is good in my book.  People may not neccessarily want to recreate exactly what they see on screen (particularly, I hope, not the £10K hot tub...) but it will get them thinking about how to make more of their own outside space.  And finally, I loved the fact that the programmes have almost all shown families in the gardens and been designed with this in mind. 

For me this has been the missing link in most gardening programmes.  Too often on TV we see pristine spaces with a single gardener giving us a tour and waxing lyrical about individual flowers or a perfectly maintained border. 

This is fine for "gardeners" but what about "people with gardens"?  There is a world of difference between the two.  Most fall into the second category and have an outdoor space they want to make something of, but it's never as easy as this.  If you are a family, then this space has got to serve multiple purposes, appeal to a wide range of ages and withstand an awful lot of heavy use.  If you can do all this and still create an attractive space populated with plants, then you also have the possibility of making a whole family of "gardeners".

This is very much on my mind at the moment as part of my summer holidays will be spent putting together materials for the family garden design course I'm running for Mumsnet next month.  I'll also be choosing the biscuits (this is Mumsnet after all, they have a reputation to uphold) so if I can tempt you with my Jammy Dodgers do come along.

Oh, and if you fancied seeing Archie giving a tour of our garden and putting a mud pie in David Domoney's face, it's here (at least for the next three weeks) - 20mins 15secs in. I shall await the crank calls.