Monday, 03 September 2012 00:00

There’s a monster in my compost bin.

Written by

For the past few months I have been struggling to get compost out of the door at the bottom of my plastic, Lambeth Council supplied, compost bin. It is baseless, physically not metaphorically.

Something tough was hindering the compost falling down. I ignored it to begin with and tried just forcing things down from the top with not much success. Whatever the blockage was, it was so strong that the only thing I could imagine it could be was bamboo.

Last year I had dug up and removed a patch of bamboo around the “Family” sculpture. Despite supposedly being a non-invasive bamboo, it had escaped from the pots and cement I had planted it in and was slowly killing my beautiful Acer by the pond.

Apparently Acers have shallow, spreading roots which don’t like being disturbed. An Acer expert I consulted at the Malvern Spring Gardening Show had made the position very clear - either the Acer would die completely or the bamboo had to go. There was no question. It was a back and two fork-twisting, four days to dig all the bamboo up properly – and I was pretty sure I hadn’t put any of it in the compost bin.

Identifying the compost bin blockage was not easy. During Spring the top of the compost became very unpleasant. First it was a mass of worms and slugs and then, as it got dry, it became a mammoth ants nest. Identifying the blockage from above was not going to be pleasant or straightforward. So I got squeamish and didn’t try. Even if I lay on the ground and looked up through the little door at the bottom (really tricky and painful given its location and generally yucky as a prospect), I couldn’t see what was going on. So I left it and, over time, the “thing” in the compost bin continued to take over physically - and in my mind. It took on ridiculous proportions. I knew it was powerful and strong. It became a monster and I even became a little scared of it.

Daphne has been my joy and sorrow this winter. She was a water Niaid supposedly, a great beauty sought by Apollo, a water spirit. December is transformed by Daphne in my garden as the six year old, evergreen, D. bholua ‘Sir Peter Smithers’ beside my swing seat once again comes into flower as the rain and snow falls. But as a water nymph she has failed. It’s now clear I have lost all the fish in my pond bar three to the heron. Clear in every way. The unfiltered pond is now crystal clear from the freezing temperatures. I can see every leaf or piece of gravel on the bottom as well as the pump, waterlily tuber, and each fish as it “hibernates” as low down as it can.

Much have I travelled through the Internet

And many Google sites and pages seen;

Through many searches have I been

For likely purchases I need to vet.

Oft of two sites I’d heard but yet  

On EBay I had never been

Nor PayPal used in this demesne

‘Til antique tiles I had to get.

Then felt I like some watcher of the skies

When a new world comes into her ken,

With reclamation yards and private buys

As far afield as York and Penn

Who yield their goods, to my surprise,

More swift and cheap than shop-based men.

 

So now I’m charged with power and might

To buy and sell at my own will

It really is an awesome thrill

This new world order seems so right!

A pallet firm I’ve found on site

Called Speedshift, and for a small bill

Your order they will more than fill

They’ll even do it overnight.

So now I’ve also sold, yippee,

Old tiles and borders I don’t need.

Buying power it seems to me

S’been shifted, I hope we’re all agreed,

By EBay, PayPal - and they’re free!……………….. well almost.

Sunday, 17 February 2013 17:04

The first butterfly of summer?

Written by

 

The cuckoo is still silent. Frogs and toads have yet to populate the pond – normally the first sign of the end of winter – and I am still wearing more layers than a good filo pastry. Yet today, in the first sunshine for weeks, a Red Admiral butterfly came to bask on my Choisya ternata “Sundance” in all its red, black and white splendour. It is still only about 12 degrees C. in the sun (and very cold out of it), and my butterfly and moth books tell me the Red Admiral arrives from Southern Europe in May to October.

I don’t know what to think. Is this a lone migrator pushed North by winds? Has it over-wintered through the snow in one of my insect houses around the garden? Or is this the result of something much greater ie climate change? A friend has just seen a flock of 20-30 waxwings feeding on old figs and ivy berries in her garden in Clapham, London – they should be on the east coast, if anywhere here the moment.

However, the rest of the garden is doing roughly what it should at this time of year. Everything spring and summer flowering is budding, especially the roses and many of the clematis. Tulips and daffodil leaves are about six inches up, the Viburnum is just beginning to wake, deciduous leaf buds are ripening all over and the Camelia are in fat bud, but only the Daphne, Snowdrops and Rosemary are actually in flower.

Page 3 of 3