Patience, unwelcome visitors, and a new family member (23-29 Mar.)

This week’s weather:

a couple of misleading warm and sunny days (I managed to get mild heat-stroke working in the polytunnel)
2 days of mean North wind,
cold fog and general meh.

Sowing seeds - lessons in patience

Not looking like spring. Freezing fog obscures the moor and keeps us indoors.

After a couple of warm days, most of the seeds planted in the polytunnel have sprouted. Some of them were only planted a few days ago (salad mixes and radish) but others were planted back at the beginning of March and have only just shown signs of life (tomatoes, delicata squash, red kale).

A friend recently advised me not to be impatient when it comes to planting seeds in Scotland. All
gardeners have a rush of enthusiasm at the first signs of spring and immediately want to get a head start - dreaming of a lush summer garden full of delicious things. But spring in Scotland is a shameless tease. So far this year we’ve had a number of gloriously warm days where the birds sing, the sun shines, and you can smell the soil and rush of new green life. Everything convinces you that this is it; Spring has arrived. Out come the seed packets. Garden plans are made, beds are dug and by the end of the day you’re sweaty and feeling great that you’ve got a head start on it all. And then the next day it snows and is minus 2 for a week.

My friend advised that in these conditions, even with a polytunnel, early sowing doesn’t necessarily bring forward your harvest. As tempting as it may be to start sowing the minute the sun comes out, waiting until late April or even May will produce the same results or perhaps even be more successful as there is less chance of losing vulnerable seedlings to mice and frost. She has been gardening in Scotland for many years, so knows her stuff.

I am trying to heed her advice, but as well as being an impatient gardener, I’m also feeling a bit of desperation in anticipation. I fear we may need a supply of veg in the coming months due to the impact Coronavirus may yet have on the food supply system. For now, I’ve tried to stick to fool-proof seeds such as salads, peas, spinach (eaten by mice), rocket and chard, as well as a load of flowers (sweet pea, calendula, alyssum, etc). I kinda couldn’t help myself with the tomatoes and a few other long-shots, but one can always live in
hope.

Unwelcome visitor
Today we had an unexpected and somewhat unwelcome visitor to the garden. He appeared at
lunchtime, brazenly sitting under the bird table and gnawing happily on a piece of Parmesan
crust jettisoned by the birds. Mr. Fox has been seen numerous times out in the paddock, but
I’ve never seen him inside the garden (although I did wonder who had callously dug up my iris
bulbs).
He’s a beautiful creature but I”m less than pleased to see him for two reasons. Firstly, I don’t
want there to be an encounter between him and our tiny pup, and secondly, I thought I had
successfully rabbit/puppy-proofed the entire garden perimeter. Not so, says Mr Fox. I stormed
out the back door to shoo him away and watched him sail over the fence with ease.

How do you keep a fox out of your territory? Apparently they are attracted by the pee of small
animals, so Humph isn’t doing us any favours there. Jim has offered to pee around the garden
which might work, but makes the prospect of sitting out there less than attractive.

Holiday Hound

For both of us, work has been cancelled for the foreseeable future, and we, no doubt like the
rest of the world, have gone through stages of shock, discombobulation, denial and grief at what
is going on. Life feels a bit like a strange enforced holiday. Although we both have lots of things we could be getting on with, like odd-jobs around the house, we are somewhat paralysed into a lethargic state.

This has been greatly aided by the arrival of Humphrey - our first hound.

He is 2 months old today, and demands attention at all times. He’s lucky, because we have the time to give - an unusual state of affairs.

His needs and rhythms, along with the significant sleep deprivation he has imposed upon us -
add to the holiday feeling. Today after lunch, we all dozedin a heap on the lawn. As it has been
winter since we moved in, I’d never even sat on the lawn let alone slept outside in our garden. It
was an impromptu nap that pounced upon us just at the end of an energetic playtime. We were
curled in a chaotic tesselation. A blackbird sang over us and as I drifted off it dawned on me that
we would never normally allow ourselves this luxury - always too many things that I should be
doing.

Horrific as this situation is, it has presented the opportunity of time, peace and slowness - things
that are possibly rare in the majority of contemporary lives. I wonder what impact this will have,
if any? Our little puppy doesn’t know any other way, other than just to take each moment as it
comes. Hopefully we will learn to do the same.

Sheer naughty: the arrival of Humphrey-Hound