Ö÷²¥´óÐã

Ìý

One reward working for Gardeners’ Question Time is sight-seeing opportunities. We visit all parts of the U.K. and sometimes we whinge about all the travelling. But as I just trained from Norfolk up to York the scene was one of continuous. Possibly Turner could have done justice to such glory but in all my years I’ve seldom seen such tints. The many yellows and browns, a smattering of reds and purples, and the occasional metallic silver of poplars.

The oaks in particular have taken on a deeper gold than usual, with a reddish coppery tinge to some of them. What a delight to sit there watching the miles of nature’s palette unfold as I passed from the thin sparse vegetation of Breckland and the conifers of Thetford Chase to the black soiled fields of the full of vegetables.

Then whisked past the soft woodlands of the wolds on to the more Spartan grazing lands of Yorkshire. Even the weeds on the sides of the tracks were fine displays with drifts of Michaelmas daisies and yarrow. Back home again the grapevines are dropping their leaves - most turn yellow but some are wine red and purple. I noticed the leaves on an old forsythia suspensa were red on one stem so I’ve made a few cuttings - a colouring form would be handy - shame it’s such a lax shrub though.

My blueberries are also giving a fantastic show. I’m surprised they’re not grown more widely just for their crimson and scarlet foliage, though it’s dropping quickly. Aronia melanocarpa Viking is another good colouring shrub originally grown for ornament, now this is one of the wonder fruits. Like a blackcurrant but so sour raw it puckers your mouth and is thus called the chokeberry, it’s actually tasty once cooked with sugar and apple puree.

Apples are all about in profusion, I’m still juicing them but there are so many I’m leaving the surplus for my chickens. You can only use so many. I love baked apples, and not just hot. An old Norfolk snack was a cold baked apple. However that was plain, I spice mine; peeled, cored and buttered they’re coated in sugar, cinnamon and allspice. Then they’re first eaten hot with baked egg custard and later cold with savoury dishes or stuffed with ice-cream.

Talking of eggs; my old hens are just keeping up with consumption at the moment. But soon they’ll stop and there’ll be that awkward winter break till they recommence laying the end of January. I, well the old birds, have raised some young chickens and I’m hoping they’ll come into lay and bridge the gap.

These are being spoilt at the moment with all the best scraps and surpluses - not just to encourage earlier egg laying but to put some meat on the young cockerels who are soon destined for the pot. Not a job I relish, but it must be done; they’ll only start slaughtering each other if left for much longer.

The fall - a love poem to my garden

I watch Autumn falling;
wan mellow days drift by,
turning trees reflecting
sun setting from the sky.
Dropping leaves tracing
your face upon the air,
departing and a leaving
boughs and twigs so bare.
Grasses khaki dying,
bare soil cold and dank,
Summer's life expiring
our sun, too soon, it sank.
Bitter gales come raping
pillaging the land, and
wild life flees so fleeting;
their hour-glass out of sand.
Hard times rudely on us
cold winds harshly cry,
for long, too long, now drabness;
there'll be no more warm skies.
For Winter rules; a cruel tide,
it's burdens know no rest.
Oh Spring you have too long to hide
until our life’s re-blessed.

Bob Flowerdew is an organic gardener and panellist on Ö÷²¥´óÐã Radio 4's Gardeners' Question Time.