Kitchen Garden Magazine

Monday 21 December 2009 | HB

My year of edible, aerial gardening:  December 2009

So my first year of aerial edible gardening is drawing to a close.  As I write my twelfth instalment from the roof I find myself at home, hugging a hot water bottle and wearing several jumpers, ski socks and a pair of super thick woolly arm warmers.  I’m slowly thawing out after an icy bike ride.  It’s only 2.30pm but it’s already a little dusky outside, sleet is expected later on. 

It’s the shortest day of the year, the winter solstice, and it makes sense at this point in my garden’s young history to reflect a little on what has passed over the last few months.  To recall some of the successes and some of the tragedies of aerial, edible gardening 2009...

Let’s start with success.  Top of the list has to be red fruits - my strawberries and tomatoes.  Sitting here on my chilly perch, wrapped in woollens, I can reminisce fondly about many delicious strawbs and toms hanging about my balcony like juicy baubles.  Fruit that was best eaten while wearing shorts and straight from the vine. 

Second on the list are sticky leaved tobacco plants.  They were covered in elegant white trumpets for months on end and stood tall in a fug of perfume, being loved by rooftop bees, moths and me.  Third are wonderful runner beans, which weaved a living wall around the roof and provided me with delicious vegetables throughout the summer.  Fourth are herbs and leaves, all kinds of green shoots that have transformed my salads.  And fifth is lavender - a fragrant silver leaved plant that has made local bees giddy with nectar this year.

The tragedies?  The courgette plant I inherited from my mum was one - it produced several flowers but only one rather pathetic courgette before suffering a slimy end thanks to some snails.  I was a bit embarrassed by my courgette failure as everyone I know who’s ever grown them has ended up with loads.  Next year perhaps...

Another tragedy was the cucumbers that never were.  I tried to grow them twice but both times I planted cucumber seeds I got mushrooms!  Way back in early spring my bedroom was rather chaotic as it is the only place I can use as a plant nursery in my minute flat.  I had a few disasters as my room simply isn’t that big.  I tripped over seed trays and sent soil spraying across the carpet on more than one occasion. 

It feels quite funny to think a whole year has passed since I decided to expand onto the roof and grow myself some greenish fingers.  The garden now feels like such an important part of the flat and of me.  During the summer especially I spent an enormous amount of time out there. 

I’ve discovered that I enjoy gardening in my pyjamas and that growing something from seed, watching it develop and then eating its fruits is truly joyful.  I’ve daydreamed out there and entertained out there.  The garden has opened my eyes to a whole new side of London and urban living.  It has been such an exciting and interesting project and I can’t wait to hatch a new set of plans for it next year.

Back to the here and now and, like last month, the time I’ve actually spent in the garden in recent weeks has been pitifully minimal.  I really am a fair weather gardener, plus there isn’t actually anything to do out there work wise at the moment.  All is fairly tidy, the spring bulbs are in, the winter leaves planted and, yes, it is far too freezing for lounging around.  When it’s sunny and crisp it’s glorious out there, but generally December has been a little gloomy.

This weekend was different – the roof was a tiny bit snowy and crackling with ice.  My brave winter lettuces were dusted with frozen flakes.  Right now more snow is falling and I fear slightly for those lettuces and leaves, which were doing so well until this big freeze hit.  But it is beautiful here in the south east at the moment.  I left London on Saturday and travelled 30 minutes north into Hertfordshire where the snow was far thicker, almost as deep as a welly boot. The sheep had snow beards and, in the woods, huge mushrooms were weighed down with thick icing. It was all very festive and very pretty, if rather cold. 

Merry Christmas, more from the north London rooftop next year...  exactly what to be decided!

www.aerialediblegardening.co.uk

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Wednesday, 25 November 2009 | HB

My year of edible, aerial gardening:  November 2009

I haven’t spent much time on the roof as I’d like to recently.  The weather’s been pretty unkind of late, plus daylight hours at home are getting rarer.   But yesterday the sky turned the most brilliant of blues and I stole a few precious minutes in my secret garden.  The sycamore tree that towers over it is almost bare now, but still casts the odd last leaf adrift. Those final leaves were dancing about the roof in slow motion on Saturday.  I kept catching them out of the corner of my eye and mistaking them for huge brown butterflies.

Despite wild weather, and gale like wind and rain, the bulbs and seeds I planted in October are all doing really well.  I’ve got lots of green shoots – lettuce and leaves, spring onions and chard, garlic and flowers.  My flat leaved parsley plants are doing especially well.  The tomatoes have just about finished now, the plants are looking very withered and wrinkly.  There are a few lone fruits left on the vines but I don’t expect they’ll turn red.  The squirrels continue to gnaw at them when they get desperate.

It was almost odd being out there yesterday, momentarily just sitting and looking.  After a summer devoted to lounging around in my mini jungle doing not much at all, the roof is now starting to feel like less of an escape.  Even choosing to have the door open, so fresh air can blow into my bedroom, is a decision to freeze these days.  The roof is somewhere to be still, it’s prime daydreaming territory.  As it gets colder, wetter and windier it becomes a much less enticing space.  It’s still wonderful of course, we just don’t spend as much time together these days!

At this time of year one needs bigger expanses of outside space to march across in order to keep warm and to get desirably rosy cheeks.  I went for a wonderful walk a couple of weeks ago with one of my best friends.  It was a weekday treat, we ate soup in a tiny cafe then roamed over Hampstead Heath in the autumn wet for hours. 

A downpour left the leaf fall slick and gleaming, and the lichen on tree trunks fluorescing lime green.  Glossy droplets balled on fat pink berries.  When the rain returned tree canopies made protective umbrellas over our heads.  We searched for and we found the hollow tree we’d last visited over two years before.  The tree is huge and bulbous at the bottom, there’s enough room inside it for two people to sit.  It’s seriously special.  More so that day because it had taken us years to re-find it. 

The weekend following the weekday walk I headed out west, excitingly on the back of a Vespa.  It took us quite a while to get to the Thames at Twickenham, but it was a beautiful day and the novelty of travelling through London on a scooter kept me thoroughly entertained.  I was pulled to the river at this westerly point because I was determined to see the effects of the annual November draw-off, something I had no idea even happened until the week before.

Every year the weirs at Richmond Lock are lifted to allow the Port of London Authority to carry out essential maintenance works on the lock, weirs and sluices. The weir being lifted allows the river between Richmond Lock and Teddington Lock to drain naturally at low tide and this creates a short annual opportunity to access the lower shore. 

The draw off leaves behind the lowest of low tides, with the river around Eel Pie Island emptying to almost nothing.  We slurped around in the oozing mud, crunched over hundreds of mussels and sifted through all kinds of debris.  And I discovered my beautiful red wellies weren’t at all waterproof. It was a brilliant afternoon, if a little damp. 

Back in the big smoke, and in the far less idyllic surroundings of Elephant and Castle in south London, I went to an interesting event organised by CABE – the Commission for the Built Environment.  They were launching their new ‘Grey to Green’ campaign, which is all about investing in green infrastructure in our cities.  Similar to the Urban Task Force in the 1990s, they’re calling for a green infrastructure task force, “to galvanise us all to create great green places”.

The campaign asks why grey infrastructure receives so much more investment than green, and questions how wise this is in an era of climate change and in the context of the opportunity to improve public health.  It also highlights the urgent need for more people with the right skills “to manage the living landscape of our towns and cities”.

The landscape designer and writer Dan Pearson delivered a great speech during the event, illustrating the idea of green urban environments with stunning examples of projects in world cities like Tokyo and New York.  Excitingly he also highlighted one of my friend’s gardens as a favourite of his.  She lives on a community of barges that float on the Thames at Tower Bridge, where they nurture beautiful gardens on the boat tops.

I felt heartened by the event, by the fact that advisory bodies like CABE are getting more and more serious about the importance of gardens and green spaces; that they’re pushing for serious action from the powers that be.  Here’s hoping that there soon will be a green infrastructure task force in place, protecting London’s existing green spaces and pushing for the creation of more.

All this makes having the roof garden feel more important.  It may be my indulgent summer retreat, where I laze and pick strawberries straight from the plant, and I may be neglecting it somewhat now as the weather turns nasty, but all year round it is valuable.  It’s an example of a little bit of grey turning into a little bit of green. 

www.aerialediblegardening.co.uk

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Monday, 26 October 2009 | HB

My year of edible, aerial gardening:  October 2009

It’s warm and windy in London this weekend.  Whipped up leaves are dropping everywhere.  Despite gloomy skies, walking along the tree lined Southbank yesterday was like walking through a golden Thames-side forest, yellow plane tree leaves tumbling all over the place, softening the concrete and painting it with autumn.  It’s always joyful to walk through just fallen foliage.

Today it’s bright and sunny as well as blustery, good conditions for the fair weather gardener, and I’ve finally finished my winter prep.  The beans came down last weekend.  I did battle with tough vines tangled with netting and bamboo sticks for about an hour.  And so today the large pots that housed the runners over summer have been freshly dug and planted with bulbs.  Flowers and garlic.  The netting and sticks have become a complicated squirrel deterrent system, which I fear probably won’t work.

Autumnal rooftop prettiness

Despite being good for nothing as a gardener if the weather isn’t up to scratch, I have been managing to enjoy the roof as things get cooler and wetter.  I’ve actually more than tolerated recent rain as I’ve seen the plants appreciate getting a good soaking.  And the roof’s actually looking really pretty at the moment, crispy and crunchy, but also colourful. 

Months on, my tobacco plants are still flowering and I’ve had some surprise late evening primrose blooms.  My heather is dazzling with purple blossoms, while the lavender flowers have dried to a crumbly grey and are smelling amazing.  I’m going to use sprigs to perfume my room.  Even my basil plant has been sporting delicate white flowers this month.  The roof’s less of a jungle these days but it’s definitely still jungle-ish.

Spotty peckers and African shield bugs

One sign of a thriving jungle is the creatures that visit.  October has seen not just the usual wood pigeons and squirrels doing acrobatics in my neighbouring sycamore tree, but also a beautiful black, white and red great spotted woodpecker.  I knew peckers lived in London but I’d never seen one in the city.  It was a ridiculously exciting moment when I peered out of our steamy bathroom window, over the roof and into the tree, and saw it tap tap tapping at the sycamore’s trunk. 

Colour and marking wise, the pecker has a lot in common with the mystery bugs that are living on the roof.  Made temporarily homeless by the felling of the runner beans, they’ve happily relocated to various other spots.  A lovely person who’s been reading about my rooftop adventures made it his mission to identify what on earth these bugs were. He tells me they are the mid instar nymphs of the southern green shield bug (Nezara viridula). 

The British bugs website (www.britishbugs.org.uk) explains that the southern green shield bug is a newcomer to UK shores.  It is “native to Africa, but frequently imported to the UK in food produce.  It’s widespread in southern Europe and has been recorded annually from sites in southern Britain since 2003 on various foodplants including tomato, beans, golden-rod, Viburnum and hemp agrimony. Given climatic warming and the current tendency for milder winters, its establishment seems likely.”

Climate change species

Mystery solved and also very interesting...  Maybe this is an indicator species of how our climate is changing and the effect such changes are having on wildlife.  As the weather gets warmer and wetter, different creatures will be able to live here, but others, who favour cooler temperatures, will be pushed further north.  Climate change is going to have a massive impact on wildlife, perhaps especially so in built up areas where the heat island effect and a lack of absorbent surfaces are going to make hotter, wetter weather more of a problem.  Which is one reason why having healthy networks of wildlife friendly, shady and absorbent urban gardens and green spaces is so important.

Doing a little more research, I’ve found a Garden Organic (www.gardenorganic.org.uk) article on the bugs.  It explains that they do damage crops like beans, causing loss of blooms, leaves and distorted fruit.  Sally Cunningham from Garden Organic says they are a “clear indicator that climate change is impacting our gardens. We're not suggesting that the southern green shield bug species will destroy gardens or crops, but we are urging people to be aware that as the climate warms up, new pests will appear.”

New River wanderings

Leaving bug worries behind, out and about in Islington this month I discovered a new local green space that winds from Highbury down to Angel.  The short New River Walk follows the course of the manmade New River, which once brought water to Sadler’s Wells in London from springs in Hertfordshire.  Much of the London stretch of the river is now underground but an overground section gives shape to a long thin park near where I live. 

I wandered along it on a mid October afternoon.  Huge and elegant weeping willows cast the silvery, green water in shifting shade, bushes were studded with brilliant red berries and all kinds of trees flashed with red, orange, brown and pink.  Ducks cut trails through the pond weed that was slicked thickly over the water.  And people walked - in couples, with kids, with dogs, alone.  I think it was the first time this year that it truly felt like autumn and London looked beautiful with it. 

Cider apples in the south

After said walk, I took a train to Brighton where an old university friend is now living. She’s volunteering on a community allotment that sits on top of a steep hill above the seaside city.  The rolling one acre plot has gorgeous views - Brighton and the sea in one direction, the South Downs stretching out in the other. We spent a couple of hours up there that weekend, picking snails off cabbages and harvesting rocket and late raspberries. 

The best job by far was apple pressing.  The project had borrowed a traditional apple press and was on a mission to juice as many apples as possible to turn into cider.  I really enjoyed using the chopping machine, which had a particularly mean looking set of teeth.  Chopping vigorously, I got plastered in apple juice and pulp, which I decided must be good for one’s skin.

Size matters

The allotment is producing a huge amount of food, shared between the people that work on it.  I took a bag of rocket back to London with me, which brought me cheer for almost a week.  In comparison to the roof, the productivity levels there are immense.  I haven’t really spent any time on allotments before and so was slightly in awe of what this one was achieving.  My roof top growing seemed fairly meagre in comparison, or at least miniature. 

During an urban agriculture workshop back in London, a few of us discussed the value of the local growing spaces we knew.  Thinking about the roof, it appeared that, in terms of yield, my space’s value was more qualitative than quantifiable.  Its true value came from being a progressive project, something that brought a small amount of food onto a table, enough to stop one person needing to buy as much fresh produce and reducing food miles, but also bringing joy and a greater sense of connection with the natural environment.  Size doesn’t really matter, as long as you have some successes and get to eat the results.

And I’m still harvesting tomatoes as November approaches.  I just popped out and picked one in fact and it was as delicious as ever.  Things are slowing down though, it’s taking a lot longer for them to go red.  I’m attempting to ripen a few picked green ones inside now. A ripe, red tom is being used to coax a bowl of green ones to blush.  It’s working but it’s also a slow process.  I’m practising patience and savouring them as they turn.  Last weekend I planted more winter lettuce, and the hardy salads and leaves I planted in September are doing well, sending up lots of lovely green shoots.  I think the roof will keep providing for a while yet. www.aerialediblegardening.co.uk

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Wednesday, 23 September 2009 | HB

My year of edible, aerial gardening:  September 2009

I found myself lying on the grass in St James’ Park on Sunday, staring at a sky framed by the yellowing leaves of London plane trees. Later, cycling along the Regent’s Canal, I admired virginia creepers that were turning a deep gloss red as they spread across the side of a brick warehouse.

Autumn is certainly in the air, although there are still summery moments to be had on the roof, which is officially a sun trap. On Monday I was out there in my shorts, indulging in some last minute sunbathing. But yes, a change of season is definitely in the air. There’s a horse chestnut tree at the end of my street dropping conkers all over the place, and the local squirrel community suddenly seems a lot more active, concerned to bury treats everywhere in preparation for harsh weather ahead.

The tomato thief

One grey squirrel has started experimenting with tomatoes. My tomatoes. My lovingly nurtured from seed tomatoes. I’m not a bad person, I’m willing to share, but this squirrel doesn’t even like tomatoes. He steals one (often a barely ripe specimen), eats half, then leaves the remains in a pulpy mess in a flower pot. He doesn’t learn. The next day he’ll take another, eat half, realise it’s not the fruit for him, and discard the rest. I’m sure you can appreciate that this is wildly annoying! It really wouldn’t be so bad if he ate the whole thing and enjoyed it.

They are wonderful, the toms. I’m picking a few everyday now, eating some straight off the vine, dropping some into salads and filling little tubs of them to take to work. A tupperware of toms make the computer bound desk job almost bearable... I’m expecting to be harvesting them for a while yet.

Balding beans

The beans sadly aren’t faring so well and are actually in a bit of state at the moment. They’re looking wizened and elderly, with bald patches and yellowing leaves. They’ve also become home to some mysterious black bugs. Bugs that look like a cross between a ladybird and a beetle and like hanging out in gangs on large runner beans. I’m not sure if they’re responsible for the beans’ demise, or whether it’s old age that’s got to them.

I do feel a little sad that they’re dying, but we had a good summer together. I had some absolutely delicious bean suppers - they tasted amazing simply steamed - and I also managed to impress a few people with them. I took a bundle to a pot luck dinner party a few weeks ago and they proved very popular. Bean compliments are lovely to receive!

An aerial adventure elsewhere

August ended with an adventure onto another Londoner’s roof, and I started September feeling utterly inspired by the people who live in my home city and the aerial adventures they are having. Temporary pop-up shops and supper clubs have been all the rage in town this summer and a friend and I went to a wonderful pop-up-restaurant-cum-fairytale-installation in an artist’s east London home over the bank holiday. The artist in question has an amazing live/work space, which he’d transformed into a fantastical eating place. A few of us who stayed late on the final Sunday of the project were lucky enough to get to explore his large roof.

We climbed a ladder and discovered a rooftop world that is currently home to three chickens! The birds have a huge run and seem gloriously happy up there, providing their owners with fresh eggs, oblivious to the trains and traffic rumbling in the background. After battling with temptation, I’ve come to terms with the fact that I can’t get livestock on my roof space as it’s tiny in comparison, but it was a real joy to see them living there, true urbanites, content city birds amid the bustle. It was also just a joyfully imaginative thing to do and spoke of the endless possibilities of random urban spaces. Everyone loved the fact there were chickens on the roof - the surprise and the idea that it was even possible.

Autumn approaches

Although poultry is sadly out, I have been thinking about what to do on the roof over autumn and winter. I’d really like to continue with growing food and have been researching more into what will survive a deep chill. I’ve planted spring onions for early next year, and chard, spinach, parsley and rocket that I hope to harvest during autumn and the milder part of winter. I’m going to plant garlic and investigate perhaps planting some winter brassicas. I also bought some spring bulbs this weekend, the classic daffodils and crocuses, and also a couple of giant allium bulbs.

The other thing I’ve been doing more of this month is seed collecting. The seeds that are drying in my room at the moment look very pretty, stuffed in an old pink lemonade bottle and sitting on a low coffee table that has been secretly fashioned out of a cardboard box. The radish and coriander seeds look especially nice, the coriander ones tempting to nibble on now and then. They taste wonderful, but I’m trying to hold back from eating too many. It will be very satisfying to grow plants from seeds I’ve collected from plants that I’ve grown this year.

High rise, autumnal thinking

I’m working on the next issue of ‘Wild London’, the magazine I edit, at the moment and this week I had the pleasure of interviewing two ladies who’ve lived in the same Hackney tower block for over thirty years. I wanted to find out about their rooms with views. The building that Daphne and Lillian call home looks bleak from the outside, but step inside their spacious high rise flats and you get the most magnificent views of a reservoir, reed beds, village-y Stoke Newington Church Street and then a central London skyline in the distance.

The mag is to have a high rise theme and also a wintry one. So, instead of mourning the end of summer, I’m currently trying to get excited about the colder months of the year. I’ve been thinking about my thickest and most favourite woolly jumpers, boots and leg warmers. About golden leaves and crunchiness underfoot. And about breath frozen into clouds on crisp clear mornings and tree skeletons cast in shadow against dramatic winter skies.

It’s easy to get excited when standing up high, admiring London from above. This year I’m going to wrap up in my woolliest of woollies and spend some serious time hanging out on my autumn and winter roof. But for the time being, I’ll make the most of those now rarer moments when I can don my shorts and catch the sun while its rays are still hot. And I’ll eat fresh tomatoes off the vine while I do it. www.aerialediblegardening.co.uk

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Monday, 27 August 2009 | HB

My year of edible, aerial gardening:  August 2009

It’s not often one gets the chance to show off... The tomatoes are gradually blushing and turning from yellow to orange to ripe red, loads of them.  I can’t tell you how proud I am to have gone from shameful tomato plant killer (last year’s vague attempt to look after one inherited tomato plant was a complete disaster) to being responsible for a seriously healthy crop to harvest this summer, grown by my very own hands, from seed no less.   

I know I’m being sentimental, nostalgic and possibly a little ridiculous, but it really does feel funny to think back to the little tom seedlings that shared my bedroom in early spring and to look at what they’ve now become.  I’m pretty pleased with myself and with them.  They taste wonderful by the way, in the way only home grown tomatoes do.

The demands exacted on a gardener...

The toms have been a pretty demanding bunch over the last month though, requiring much attention from my watering can and fainting dramatically if I dare to neglect them during a hot spell.  The roof has been looking a little frazzled of late.  We’ve had some biblical downpours here but a lot of the pots are quite sheltered and sometimes they need watering even when it’s raining.   
I do enjoy watering, it’s got an almost meditative quality, but after a long day in the office followed by a late night I admit it can be a struggle to satiate the plants’ thirst.  It’s been the main job on the roof recently, that and keeping the beans and toms under control.  Both have grown huge and unwieldy so I’ve had to do lots of trimming and tying back.

My flat is truly tiny and having the roof doubles the size of my bedroom.  I often find myself out there after hours or first thing in the morning, and, if it’s dry and I’m home, I always eat out there.  It’s a vigorously urban spot, watched over by many windows, under several flight paths and wafted by the songs of sirens, helicopters and various parties, but it’s still my most peaceful place. 
It’s from here I can quietly spy on foxes running between houses and admire dew drops sparkling on spectacular spiders’ webs.  It’s here I feel most at home and most at one with the city, like I’ve staked a claim to my own little spot and that I’m also part of a wider ecosystem.

Radical nature

I recently spent an afternoon at Dalston Mill, a temporary installation in a patch of wasteland in east London, which was part of the Radical Nature exhibition that’s currently on at the Barbican arts centre.  It sat on a wedge of land behind the busy Dalston Junction interchange, and sandwiched between a crumbling disused building, a garage and shopping centre car park.  The area was taken over by a collective of architects and environmentalists and transformed into a working windmill and wheat field, with performance space.  We only planned to spend an hour there but somehow lost four, pulled into various workshops and just generally charmed by a space that had found new life for a few weeks as a community garden.

The idea was to break bread with anyone who entered the space, made with freshly milled flour and baked on site.  The wheat looked stunning on the Sunday afternoon that we visited, ripe and gold, stretching out silkily like a tumbling sandy beach and brushing against the graffiti sprayed brick walls of the neighbouring buildings.  The temporariness of the site and the project, the speed with which it was conceived and realised and with which it was to be dismantled, was what gave it its energy.  It was fantastic to be able to access one of those mysterious yet numerous patches of disused land that exist all over London, and probably all cities, to explore its undergrowth and realise its massive potential.

Magic by moonlight

A second little trip this month opened up another bit of green London to me, this time an ancient site way out west.  Chelsea Physic Garden was founded in 1673 by the Worshipful Society of Apothecaries, and happily opens late in the summer so office bound types like me can escape there after work to watch dusk drop with a large glass of wine. 
My friend and I picked a marvellous evening to go, the weather was incredible and, once it got dark, we were treated to a garden full of exotic plants (many with magical powers) lit by a full moon.  I have never seen so many frogs and toads as I did in the botanic garden that night.  They were absolutely everywhere, each step we took sparked several amphibians into action, tiny shadowy forms leaping all over the paths and grass.  It was brilliant, to be in Chelsea, hidden behind high walls next to the Thames, and to be surrounded by hundreds of jumping toads and frogs.

Before and after

Back to my own small slice of London green magic, the roof really has turned into a little jungle over the last few months.  I’ve been looking back at some pictures I took of the space in March and the difference between then and now is dramatic. The roof has looked so alive in the last few weeks.  As we creep closer to September, it’s probably passed from its most verdant stage to looking a little rough round the edges.  Most of the flowers have gone to seed now, the strawberries are in need of attention and salad leaves are sparser.  Crumpled bean leaves keep blowing into my room, hinting at autumn.  They do still have flowers though, so my bean suppers are safe yet.

I’ve started thinking about winter crops and will use the August bank holiday to work out some kind of cold weather plan.  Reluctantly in part, as I’d like to pretend summer will last forever, but also with some excitement.  Winter will be a happier season if it involves growing or at least nurturing crops.  I’ve been reading about hardy lettuces that you sow over winter to harvest in very early spring.  Bob Flowerdew’s ‘Going Organic’ book suggests sowing winter lettuces, Japanese and spring onions, winter spinach, turnips and Chinese greens in late summer, and planting garlic and daffodil bulbs in early autumn.
I intend to make the most of the warm weather and still light-ish evenings for as long as possible.  There’s still lots left to eat – beans, herbs, salad, maybe another courgette if I’m lucky, my new chilli plant, plus all these glorious tomatoes.  But I will start my autumn and winter planning now I suppose, while secretly praying the summer lasts a lot longer yet.
I have a new website dedicated to the year of aerial edible gardening at: www.aerialediblegardening.co.uk

helenbabbs.wordpress.com 

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Wednesday, 22nd July 2009 | HB

My year of edible, aerial gardening:  July 2009

I’ve just been doing some emergency repairs on the roof.  My beans have grown so big and bushy that they’ve got quite unwieldy and prone to collapse.  The netting and canes, which seemed such sturdy support when they were young, is struggling to keep them in order these days.  They look wonderful, this wild tangle of green vines, but, yes, they’re causing a small amount of havoc, especially when the wind picks up. 

I just got creative with a ball of string and I’m hoping they’re now secure.  I ate some beans with my dinner this evening, young, tender ones.  They were delicious, which was a relief.  I served up a rather stringy number to a friend at the weekend which was a little embarrassing!  I learnt my lesson - don’t try and impress people with huge king size beans, the little ones taste far better, even if they look slightly pathetic in comparison.

Dreams of a tom shaped breakfast

The most exciting news from the roof at the moment is that I have lots of toms.  The plants are looking so healthy and strong, covered in flowers and tiny tom babies that I’m rapt watching grow bigger and plumper by the day.  My labelling system turned out not to be weather resistant so I’m now unsure of which variety is which, some are your classic round numbers while others are gloriously plum shaped. 

I can’t wait for them to start turning red.  My thoughts are currently dominated by fresh, just picked tomatoes, sliced and topped with fresh, just picked basil or perhaps fresh, just picked rocket.  Summer salad heaven, right there on my roof, a short crawl from bed. I imagine I’ll soon be indulging in warm tomatoes straight from the vine while still in my pyjamas. 

Mystery plants

Like the beans before them, having known the toms when they were the tiniest of seeds makes seeing them bloom and fruit all the more exciting.  Among the plants I most definitely planted, from seed or seedling, there are some rogue growths that have appeared from nowhere. There’s a plant with the smallest, prettiest purple flowers that’s growing in a old green ceramic pot that, as far as I was concerned, contained nothing but a little bit of old, crumbly compost. 

There’s also something more recognisable as some kind of dandelion type thing growing in an old basket.  I looked this one up.  I was hoping it was nipplewort but I think it’s some kind of hawkweed, a great but perhaps not quite so amusing name. 

In the same basket a very beautiful purple leaved tree spinach plant is growing.  The spinach is a funny one, as I thought I’d planted ruby chard, and not in the basket but in a salad box.  I think the resident squirrels must have transplanted it.  Despite the missing chard, I’m very pleased with the spinach.  It has matt leaves that look like they’ve been dipped in an intense purple powder, and a lovely statuesque look to it, tall and elegant and slender.

Beyond the roof

I had a little adventure in Hackney last week.  I went to meet Hedvig Murray, who, along with her friend Sara, runs a brilliant project called ‘Get Growing’ (www.getgrowing.org.uk) that’s giving people who sign up the equipment, guidance and moral support to start growing vegetables in their outside space, whatever shape or size it may be.  They’re working with ten households in Hackney this season, whose growing spaces range from window boxes and roof terraces, to front steps and back yards.  The people involved are novices or gardeners who’ve become disheartened due to a lack of success.

Hedvig and Sara are teaching the group the principles of permaculture and giving them one-on-one practical tuition.  Their enthusiasm for the project is infectious, Hedvig glowed with the sheer joy of sharing growing know how and watching the people who’ve signed up become confident gardeners.  It’s a community building scheme too - through it they’ve linked up with various local projects, all devoted to urban growing and outreach work.

Gardening adventures by bike

Hedvig and I cycled to one of the gardens that’s part of the ‘Get Growing’ project - a front garden, a ten minute ride from Hedvig’s own house.  She’d been there earlier in the day, delivering compost via her natty bike trailer.  I have a confession.  I’d never cycled in London before, I was a city cycling virgin and suddenly found myself on a bike. It was absolutely brilliant.  I even survived being overtaken by a bendy bus without even the smallest of squeals.  My bicycle bravery was rewarded with a tour of a brilliant front garden, the work of a lady called Joanne.

Joanne’s front garden and front steps are currently dripping with veg.  She has beans, courgettes, aubergines, strawberries, tomatoes, herbs and salad.  Neighbours have started shouting compliments across the street.  She plans to install a wormery and a compost bin next.  Suddenly her street seems a much friendlier place and she’s bubbling with creative confidence. 

Hedvig seemed very proud.  Gardening can be such a powerful force for good.  It’s even managed, in a roundabout way, to convince me to get a bike.  Carting compost home from the garden centre a few days later by bus, I dreamed of having a trailer like Hedvig’s.

Seedy salad

Returning to the roof, I’m enjoying the salad leaves I’ve been growing, eating them pretty much daily and really delighting in how many different and intense flavours a simple leaf can offer.  I’m also enjoying the process of picking, there’s something terribly peaceful about five minutes spent harvesting leaves for supper.  It’s a good time for calm thoughts.

The roof has looked at its prettiest florally over the last few weeks.  The towering tobacco trumpets (Nicotiana slyvestris is still my favourite flower) have been joined by glorious yellow evening primroses, prongs of purple lavender and deep orange nasturtiums.  I inherited a courgette plant on a recent visit to Wales to see my mum, which has five exotic looking fluorescent orange flowers now.  All these blooms mean I’ve had loads of bee visitors of late.  

The huge, furry bumbles have been wonderful company - they seem to like drinking from the lavender when I’m curled up amongst it with a book.  And today I had my first butterfly.  I lost a good 15 minutes stalking it round the roof trying to get a photograph, but it simply wasn’t having any of it.  After being thoroughly harassed by a girl wielding a camera, flapping as manically as it was in the end, it fluttered off over the chimney tops, leaving me picture-less.  

Open gardens and flower shows

I went to Hampton Court Flower Show recently, where London Wildlife Trust (who I work for) won gold with their wonderful sustainable show garden.  The show reminded me how creative gardening can be, how important good design is and how gardening can allow you to go on some incredible imaginative journeys.  That visit to my mum’s a few weeks ago involved an open gardens event in the small town of Usk, as well as the matter of inheriting a courgette plant.  After some serious nosing round other people’s gardens, both real and ones just for show, I’ve started having new ideas about what to do next with the roof.

I want to explore more creative ways of planting in my space, I feel like this year has been a success so far but that I’d like the roof to look better, to be more inventive, to use more interesting materials and explore different levels.  Suddenly I’m itching to get my sketch book out and re-plan my space...  or at least make some creative tweaks.  I’ll let you know how I get on.

helenbabbs.wordpress.com 

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Saturday, 21st June 2009 | HB

My year of edible, aerial gardening:  June 2009

It’s the longest weekend of the year, it’s getting late but it’s still just about light.  I’m not long back from a rather bloody (but wonderful) RSC production of Julius Caesar and have been finding watering the plants very soothing, as a dusk duvet wraps itself around the roof.  I discovered my first rooftop caterpillar perched on Edith the rose, a bright green fellow looking luminous against pink petals in the half-light.  Sweet relief after a Shakespearean bloodbath.

My night planting has paid off - the tobacco plant is definitely my new favourite, for this week anyway.  The leaves are funnily sticky, the stalks tall and willowy, and the flowers utterly beautiful.  Fragrant trumpets, star shaped when you look at them face on, and the brightest of whites.  As the light fades as it is now, they seem to get ever brighter and whiter.  My radishes and coriander are flowering at the moment too, tiny white sparkles on tall shoots, dancing around the tobacco trumpets. 

Once you’ve eaten one you’re doomed...

Reading back over last month’s entry, it feels like so much has changed on the roof.  It’s all berries, beans and bees at the mo.  Well, the berries are no more, I’ve eaten them all!  The green strawbs that I was waxing lyrical about back in May have been devoured.  They tasted amazing, sweet and tangy and just extra special because I’d grown them myself.  As predicted, my hanging basket looked very pretty dripping with ripe berry baubles. 

The plan was to save a few to take to Wimbledon next week but I failed to exercise enough self control.  It is simply impossible to ignore a strawberry when it is calling to you from your balcony.  Once you’ve eaten one you’re doomed.  You’ll be pleased to learn that I was a good gardener and did manage to share.   It was a small crop so now I’m feeding the plants up, hoping desperately for more later this summer.

Bees love beans

Onto the beans and bees.  Well, I have beans, and they get bigger by the minute.  Tomorrow a friend is coming over for a solstice supper and we will eat the first harvest, toasted, finally, with that glass of Pimms.  I love my runner beans – I love the fact I can remember so clearly buying the seeds on a snowy day in Brighton way back when, that they shared my room for weeks, and that they are now a huge tower of leaves and flowers and vegetables growing against our exterior bathroom wall.  I feel like a proud mother. 

And the bees.  I’ve had many big fuzzy bumbles visiting, plus the less furry kind as well.  I’m a big bee fan and extremely pleased to be working with my local community.  In return for my best and sweetest nectar, they’ve been super busy pollinating my crops.  Bees love runner beans, it’s official.  They’re such a great crop to try - incredibly easy to grow, satisfyingly creating a fast mass of vegetation in the smallest of places, plus they’re climate and wildlife friendly.  Local, organic, bee friendly produce.  Perfection. 

Beyond the roof

London is looking very lush at the moment and everyone’s loving the long summery evenings.  Pubs are over-spilling all over the place and every green spot is a potential picnic waiting to happen.  At a recent Sustainable Cities event organised by the Natural Capital Initiative (www.naturalcapitalinitiative.org.uk), I learnt that 37% of London is designated green space, not including gardens (which themselves cover over 90,000 acres of the city), making the UK capital oen of the greenest in the world.  The event was all about good, sustainable design and development that is sensitive to both human and environmental needs. 

As DEFRA releases stark UK climate projections (http://ukcp09.defra.gov.uk/), it seems more important than ever that we make London, and all urban areas, greener, literally.  Ken Livingstone from Progressive London and Lorna Walker from CABE both highlighted the importance of gardens and individuals getting growing in the face of climate change.

An epic journey

London is home to some amazing growing projects.  I’m currently working on an article about city farms and last week my friend Mel and I embarked on an epic farm crawl across the capital.  We managed to visit five farms in one day, journeying by train, tube, bus and foot. 

We started among rolling fields that were framed with sci-fi views of Canary Wharf and the Docklands, and ended up on a train-trapped island in north west London.  It was inspiring to see small community farms growing bumper crops (often cooked and sold in lovely on-site cafes) and caring for a variety of livestock in some really quirky places.

Spitalfields City Farm was extra special, a tiny place bursting with colour and energy bang in the middle of an inner city estate near Liverpool Street station.  We watched the young farmers club in action, admired some delicious looking produce and cooed over some very cute goats.   At Kentish Town, we witnessed city farming on a piece of land cut across by two busy rail tracks.  A noisy cow managed to make itself heard over the speeding trains.  It was brilliant.

Rocket, radish, tomatoes...and dewy dreams

Back to my own rooftop mini city farm...  A quick update about some other produce that’s growing at the moment.  The toms are doing well, getting stronger and sturdier.  Today I spotted the first flowers budding on one of the plants.  I absolutely cannot wait to have home grown tomatoes.  They’re going to taste so good with my rocket, which is also doing very well and has been a favourite with most meals over the last two weeks.  I’ve taken to mixing freshly picked mint, rocket, coriander and parsley leaves into fromage frais, as a cooling side to hot dishes. 

I ate my first radish recently, which took a while for me to persuade myself to do as I battled with a bizarre guilt about eating something I’d spent so long growing. For some reason I wasn’t sure I would be able to grow anything as exotic as a neon pink radish and was faintly suspicious it would taste funny.  It is with relief I report that it tasted just as a radish should, cool then hot – a crunchy, peppery magical root.  I have discovered that radishes are actually easy to grow in containers and their flowers are terribly pretty.

It’s dark out there now, the shortest night of the year has begun and the moths are on the move.  It’s been hot of late so I’ve been sleeping with the door open, with rooftop breezes blowing gently around my bedroom.  Dreams wafted with roof dew and birdsong (and, OK, the odd siren wail and helicopter drone) – green London loveliness, noisiness included. 

Goodnight.

helenbabbs.wordpress.com 

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Wednesday, 20th May 2009 | HB

My year of edible, aerial gardening: May 2009

It’s May and I have strawberries! I am ridiculously excited. They’re green and tiny, but I’m anticipating great things in a few weeks time. My very own glossy red baubles, delicious eaten straight from the hanging basket or perhaps floating in that glass of Pimms I’ve been daydreaming about for at least two months.
The mint is also doing well, its leaves are the brightest of greens and taste wonderful. So my ‘cocktails enhanced with home grown produce’ plan is definitely on track.
I did try to grow cucumbers as well (cucumber being such a good addition to cool summer drinks) but that didn’t work out. I planted cucumber seeds and got a crop of mushrooms. Odd. Tall, slender, elegant looking fungi, beautiful even, but not quite right for adding to drinks. Anyway, I’m seriously pleased about the strawbs.

The growing green jungle

The roof is starting to look a lot greener.  Most of my seedlings are flourishing outside full time now.  I went away for two weeks at the end of April and when I got back I couldn’t believe how alive my tiny little terrace looked.  The runner beans have clambered up the side of the house, weaving themselves around the bean poles and netting I hung up for them.  They have flowers now, orangey red flashes the shape of tiny light bulbs.  They look a bit like fairy lights strung festively on green wire across my white walls.  And the tomatoes are getting bigger and more impressive.  I replanted a few of them into an organic grow bag last weekend and they are very happy. 

I owe a massive thank you to my wonderful flatmate Ria who took such good care of the roof during my two week disappearance.  I got home from hols at about 2am on a Wednesday morning and, unable to go to bed or sleep due to the buzz in my post holiday head, I stepped out onto the roof.  I admit I was worried how it would survive without me (!) but it looked stunning.  Nothing like an absence to make the heart grow fonder and it was such a relief to see it looking healthy.  Ria – all is thank you!

African adventures

So, my two weeks out of London and away from work were utterly fantastic!  I was in Gambia in West Africa, where two of my friends are doing an education project, twinning Gambian and UK primary schools.  I spent some time with them visiting schools in remote villages.  It was really interesting to see how gardening is part of school life there. 

We spent a morning at Sotokoi Lower Basic School and the headmistress gave us a tour of the vegetable garden, a plot maintained by local mothers with the help of the young students.  They sell the produce and the money is then saved and used to provide loans to families who find themselves unable to pay school fees.  Sorrel and okra were doing especially well at the time of our visit, and the gardeners had just planted a crop of banana trees around the edge of the site.
The fruit and vegetables on sale in the markets were delicious.  It was mango season when I was there which was such a treat, fresh mango for breakfast, lunch and dinner was a pleasure!  It always feels terribly exotic to see mangoes, bananas and papayas dripping from huge, gnarled trees, many of which were the shady focal points of villages or school yards. 

I had a great conversation with a gardener who worked at the Bakau Botanical and Medicinal Gardens.  Speaking with Saliteh in his potting shed, I thought how universal and unifying growing things can be.  Travel hundreds of miles from home across the desert and you can still find yourself talking about kitchen gardening.  It was pretty fun having vegetable growing in common with some of the people I met.  My inner city roof garden couldn’t be more different but we still had lots to talk about.

Drunken women and neon planting

Back to that inner city roof garden, one of the things I’ve done recently is some fragrant night planting.  Joining my jasmine and honeysuckle, both of which are loved by moths, I’ve now planted some evening primroses (one in a colander, which looks great) and tobacco plants.  All this in preparation for some serious, sweet smelling moon bathing to take place once the evenings warm up a bit.  I’ve also sewn a few more seeds.  A new plastic trough is now officially a salad box, planted with the wonderfully named drunken woman lettuce, plus a Provencal salad mix, rocket and basil seeds.  One week later and the trough is already full of tiny sproutlings. 
My neon pink planter has proved a semi success so far - it is very radish heavy.  I planted the box with French breakfast radishes a couple of months ago and they are doing really well. The other half of the box was planted with pink flamingo beet, which has done less well. 

I only have one chard plant after sewing a generous amount of seeds, but that’s fine.  It has gorgeous purple-ly pink highlighted leaves and I’m drowning it in a lot of love and attention.  I’m starting to eat my produce now too, although not the chard!  There’s been fresh coriander with curries, parsley sprinkled on top of stew and mint leaves in salads and mixed with yoghurt.  All very delicious and very exciting.

In anticipation of summer

Last week I wandered over to Borough Market during a lunch break from work.  Borough is a fantastic farmers’ market just south of the Thames, under the railway arches of London Bridge.  I bought a punnet of strawberries and lazily admired the various growing herbs and salads that were on sale.  The strawberries tasted amazing, like summer, and it was lovely sharing a quiet moment with a random bunch of Londoners, all of us leafing through plant pots and indulging in a bit of spring sun. 

This bank holiday I’m going to do more salad sowing I think and also just hang out on the roof.  I’m really looking forward to inviting friends over to indulge in warm evenings on the roof with me soon... And now we’re back to where we started, with those persistent Pimms daydreams...

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Tuesday, 14th April 2009 | HB

My year of edible, aerial gardening: April 2009

I just had a lucky escape.  I’m currently teaching my runner beans about the world outside my flat, hardening them off and sending them on day trips onto the roof.  Today it’s drizzled all day and by night fall they were looking luscious, their floppy big green leaves covered in damp.  The snail just couldn’t hold itself back.  But I spotted it in time.  I swear I heard it scream as I plucked it off one of my glorious bean plants. 

They’re in for the night now, safe and sound.  I am incredibly protective of these guys after sharing the last six weeks in close contact with them, but it really is time I claimed my room back, it’s turning into a bit of a jungle.  The plan is to move them outside permanently in the next few days.

One of those terrible mornings

Last month’s seed planting means there are now sprouts all over the place.  Inside, I have a healthy crop of tomato seedlings that will need potting on soon, as well as my bean collection, which gets ever taller.  I’ve got rocket, loads of chives, one nasturtium and a couple of tiny basil plants.  The basil’s been through a lot so I’m pretty proud of these two particular plants. 
On one of those mornings where pretty much everything that could go wrong did, I collided with my pot of basil sending it flying.  Soil everywhere.  And on a morning when I really didn’t have time to hoover.  Ugh.  So a setback for the basil and some loud cursing from me, but it’s determined and so am I.  We’re both doing OK, considering...

Roots, shoots and much basking

It’s so lovely out on the roof now the evenings are longer and the days warmer.  I spent a good few hours doing nothing other than basking last weekend, the roof being transformed into an all day early April sun trap.  The seeds I planted directly outside are coming along nicely.  The beans and tomatoes are a lot smaller than those planted inside, but I think they’re going to be super tough. 
My radishes are flourishing, as is my coriander.  The parsley is starting to appear now and I have four little sunflower shoots.  My strawberries have at least doubled in size and have buds, and the mint is going mad.  I decided to try growing some cucumber to complete my Pimms cocktail planting plan but that hasn’t worked, there’s nothing happening in the cucumber pot sadly.  I’ll try again.

Come on love, jump on board

I went to Columbia Road in east London a couple of weeks ago.  It’s a half hour bus ride from where I live and you know you’re getting close when you start spotting people with arms full of plants or cars driving past with foliage spilling out of windows and sun roofs. 
Columbia Road is a street in Hackney that hosts a flower market every Sunday from 8am til 2pm.  It gets absolutely packed with all kinds of people.  You have to steal yourself slightly before braving the crowds surrounding the stalls but it’s worth it.  “Come on love, jump on board” shout the Cockney vendors, flaunting their vegetal wares. 

It’s a fantastic place to pick up a bargain.  I’d decided that I wanted a small tree for the roof, a native that wildlife would like.  I picked up a lovely little hazel there for a fiver.  I named him Hugh and we had a fun bus ride home.  Londoners are often accused of being an unfriendly bunch but you always get lots of smiles when you travel with a large plant. 
Before heading home though, Hugh and I walked over to Hackney City Farm and met an absolutely enormous pig.  The pretty, wildlife friendly garden at the farm is really inspiring, they grow all kinds of fruit, herbs and veg.  I’ve planted Hugh in a large deep blue ceramic pot on the roof with a couple of heathers. Hugh and the heathers are doing well - he’s looking very jolly covered in springtime buds. 

Non human visitations

I’ve started getting some visitors to the roof of the non human variety other than pesky squirrels (who have been especially pesky of late, after deciding to have a good dig at my radishes).  I have a blackbird who visits daily, and I’ve seen blue tits and robins along with the wood pigeons. 

The most exciting sighting was a pair of jays, looking stunning in the sycamore tree that is in one of my neighbour’s gardens.  The birds are so noisy at the moment, in the evenings and again at silly-o-clock in the morning. 

I’ve had a couple of bees buzzing about and I’ve spotted more foxes recently, down in the gardens that I get a brilliant view over from the roof. 

Dreams of summer moonbathing

I’ve been thinking and writing about night gardening again and I’ve decided to have a night corner on the roof.  I already have jasmine and honeysuckle plants, which are all sprouty at the moment and will soon be fragrant in the evenings and loved by moths.  I’m also going to plant some evening primroses and tobacco plants.  Moths are attracted by sugary scents and pale colours, using both to navigate. 
Last summer I went on a very urban moth spotting evening in King’s Cross and discovered how intricately beautiful and varied they are.  Some of our native species look like tiny birds, with exotic bright feathers and stunning markings.  Moths are precious pollinators and a vital food source for other garden species, so being moth friendly makes sense.  It will also be lovely to have a garden full of flowers that glow after dark.  I’m as much a fan of moonbathing as of sunbathing.

What next

I’m hoping my design for the roof garden will begin to take more shape over the next month, as my seedlings turn into larger plants and I start getting a bit more organised about where everything lives.  I’ve drawn out a final flat plan of how I’d like the roof to look, I’ll post it up here next month. 
My main concern at the moment though is that I’m going to be leaving the roof to fend for itself for a while.  I’m off on holiday for a couple of weeks soon.  Luckily my flatmate has agreed to babysit, although I think she’s feeling the weight of this responsibility and is rather nervous!  I’m sure all will be well.

This month I’m reading ‘Let us now praise famous gardens’ by Vita Sackville-West and checking out the ‘Garden Pieces’ season at the British Film Institute
http://www.bfi.org.uk/whatson...

http://columbiaroad.info/ - more about the market
www.hackneycityfarm.co.uk – down on the city farm
www.wildlondon.org.uk – love London’s wild side
http://helenbabbs.wordpress.com/ - my other blog

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Wednesday, 11th March 2009 | HB

My year of edible, aerial gardening: March 2009

And so it begins

It’s been gorgeous on the roof over the last few days.  I took a luxurious couple of days off work last week and there was sunshine, daffodils and endless pots of fresh coffee – perfect.  I’d forgotten quite how much I love having this high up space to escape and lose hours to.  It’s not so appealing over winter, I find myself peering out of my bedroom window at it rather than actually spending much time out there.  But suddenly it’s completely charming again and I’ve been out on the roof as much as I can.

And anyway, there is serious work to be done.  After months of daydreaming about being a wildlife friendly kitchen gardener, it’s finally time to act.  I have to confess I’m feeling a bit nervous about it, it’s a whole new world and it feels like there’s a lot to learn.  However, my long winter of vegetable-thinking has been useful and I’ve emerged at the end of it with a plan of action...

Easy and bee friendly

Last year my approach to growing was haphazard and not hugely successful, but some things did go well.  Lavender is definitely a winner, and the jasmine and honeysuckle seem to have survived the winter.  These plants tick three boxes - they’re pretty, they smell great and bees love them.  Bee populations have been decimated recently and so it’s a priority to provide these important pollinators with nectar.  (see my article about bee friendly gardening in the latest issue of Kitchen Garden mag)

All the books say not to be over ambitious when you first start out, to pick easy crops.  I guess they realise that the overwhelming sense of failure when all your produce dies has the potential to be disastrously off putting.  I’m taking that advice on board and have decided to pick crops that have reputations as being easy to grow!

A fragrant jungle

I want to create an edible garden that’s a lovely place to sit in as well as a source of fresh food.  I want it to be colourful and fragrant, with different textured leaves and varying heights of plants.  The roof is pretty sparse and fairly exposed at the moment, and I like the idea of it feeling a little more jungle like, with plants climbing up the walls, or dripping from hanging baskets, or creating screens of foliage.   

So what vegetable is notoriously easy, has bright flowers that bees love and is a climber?  The runner bean!  I love fresh beans and will happily eat them with everything if they thrive.  I bought a couple of different varieties at the seed swap in Hove last month and planted them this weekend.  I’ve also decided to be brave and try to grow tomatoes again.

Neon pink planting

Already my mint and oregano are sporting new leaves and the coriander seeds from last year’s plant are starting to sprout. My rosemary bush has buds.  Herbs are easy and delicious and I definitely want to grow more.  I’ve started to expand my collection, planting some basil (sweet Genovese), purple chive and parsley seeds.  I’ve also decided to try growing radishes (French breakfast) and chard (flamingo beet), because they’re both meant to be easy and I like the idea of having a neon pink section in my planting scheme. 

A summer of salad & cocktails

As well as focussing on herbs, I’m going to grow lots of salad leaves over the summer and kicked that plan off by planting some rocket seeds.  I discovered last year that rocket is incredibly easy to grow.  I’ve built a rather wobbly shelving unit to keep my seedlings on inside until it’s a bit warmer, and the seeds I’ve planted directly outside are being protected with old clear plastic food containers, saved over the last few weeks.

Oh and I’ve also transplanted my strawberry plants from last year into a hanging basket and am already dreaming of Pimms with home grown mint and strawbs...  My strawberries didn’t do that well last year but I’m hopeful this year is going to be better. 

A big thank you this month to the friend who drove me, my big, heavy bags of compost and my new bay tree back from the garden centre in Kentish Town, I’m not sure how I would have managed it on the bus... 

Next month I’m hoping to have pictures of seedlings to share with you - til then, Helen.

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Monday, 2nd February 2009 | HB

My year of edible, aerial gardening: February 2009

Snowed in

It’s been coming down solidly for 24 hours straight.  Travel chaos has ensued and Londoners are collectively shivering, but the capital city is looking very lovely under its thick snow blanket.  At night, the light polluted sky makes the snow glow yellow.  Looking out at my roof well after it should be dark, the garden is infused with a strange kind of twilight. 
I was out on the roof earlier this weekend, before the snow started, putting out nuts and fat-balls for the birds and admiring the bulb shoots that were starting to emerge.  The squirrels had the nuts pretty quickly, but I’m hoping the bird cakes will survive the big freeze to be discovered by those for whom they were intended, and that the bulbs will be OK.
Obviously it’s currently too early and too cold to start planting anything outside, so my year of edible, aerial gardening is still very much a theoretical project. I have been doing a lot of thinking and reading over the last month though, and hatching some plans.  I’ve been studying ‘The Edible Container Garden’ by Michael Guerra and ‘Urban Eden’ by Adam and James Caplin, and, somewhat embarrassingly, ‘Teach yourself basic garden skills’, which is aimed at people who know nothing terribly practical, people a bit like me!  I’ve taken measurements, drawn diagrams and chewed numerous pencils.  As well as all this reading and research, I’ve also been stashing away empty milk cartons and plastic containers, ready to become seed trays and cloches in the spring.
I’ve recently been writing articles about homemade habitats and about bee friendly planting, and I am more certain than ever that I want my roof to be a slice of paradise for urban wildlife as well as me.  The plan is definitely to grow crops that birds and insects will enjoy as well as humans.  The benefits of low impact growing have become clearer than ever.  This Sunday, again before the snow hit, I headed off to Hove, near Brighton on the south coast, to an event called ‘Seedy Sunday’.  It’s a big, annual community seed swap and was a brilliant opportunity to pick up an exciting selection of seeds.

The Seedy Sunday campaign is about protecting biodiversity and about protesting against a focus on large scale growing and retailing.  The people behind the event and the campaign believe that, by growing open pollinated or ‘heritage’ plant varieties, then saving and swapping the seeds, growers can keep so called ‘outlawed’ seed varieties alive, conserve biodiversity and limit corporate control of our lives.  All sounded good to me, and I spent a very interesting couple of hours wandering around the stalls in Hove Town Hall. I bought some runner beans, radishes and salad leaves, plus some seeds for a chilli loving friend.  I admit the quirky names and beautiful homemade packaging had a lot to do with the seeds I chose.  ‘Drunken woman’ lettuce, ‘Flamingo beet leaf’, ’Mohawk’ peppers and ‘French breakfast’ radish to name a few.
You can find out more on www.seedysunday.org. 

My latest article for Kitchen Garden is all about problem wildlife, so terrible beasts like the mole, the pigeon, the slug and the squirrel.  Writing it, I found out lots about these creatures that made me think they were all really rather great, or at least fascinating, I’m not sure even I can think a slug is great.  You can read it in the March issue of the magazine. Enjoy.

, Helen

Ps: visit www.wildlondon.org.uk/gardening for free wildlife friendly gardening guides, and you can find more articles I’ve written on http://helenbabbs.wordpress.com/

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Tuesday, 6th January 2009 | HB

My year of edible, aerial gardening: January 2009

The plan…

2009 is the year I’m going to sort out my garden.  I want to transform it from its current not-terribly-impressive state into a wildlife-friendly, organic kitchen garden I can be proud of.  I think it’s going to take some serious work and thought, but I have a feeling it’s going to be worth it!

So, let me tell you what I’m working with.  I rent a tiny first floor flat in Islington, north London with my flatmate R.  We’ve been living here for just over a year.  It’s a busy and noisy area, and the flat is very small, but I absolutely love it.  The garden was one of the things that made me fall in love with the place.  Well, garden of sorts.  It’s actually the roof of the ground floor flat’s kitchen.  It’s 3 metres x 2.8 metres in size, and the view’s quite Mary Poppins, looking out over rooftops and chimney stacks, and also over other peoples’ gardens.  There are lots of trees, including a big sycamore tree that towers close by, frequented by several squirrels and often hosts of wood pigeons.  The roof gets sun all day long and the sunsets are especially brilliant at this time of year, when the leaves are gone and tree skeletons are silhouetted against glowing winter skies.

At the moment the roof is home to a small table and chairs and several pots of various descriptions.  I started experimenting with growing last year and learnt a few important lessons.  I had some successes - the sweet peas were a triumph, as were my salad leaves and herbs.  The peas, strawberries and tomatoes didn’t fare quite so well…  Anyway, at the moment my lavender plants are looking lovely, the heathers are adding some much needed colour and the ivy is slowly turning my fence into a living one.  Still, it does look a bit sparse, but I’m looking at it as a blank canvas where great things will happen this year!

As is traditional, I’m dedicating my first month as a wildlife-friendly organic kitchen gardener (!) to planning.  This January I’m going to read some books, hatch some plans and maybe buy a few essential tools of the trade during the sales.  I really am starting from scratch, last year’s planting was done with a blue plastic spade I picked up in Brighton, more suited to sand than soil.  I’m in my mid twenties and have been living in London since I was 18.  I’m definitely a city girl but I also love nature and care deeply about protecting the environment.  I work for London Wildlife Trust and as a freelance journalist, specialising in wildlife and the environment.  

Gardens are incredibly important resources, for people and wildlife.  They are more important than ever in the face of climate change – gardens have a crucial role to play in helping us cope with its effects, especially in cities.  One fifth of London is made up of gardens, there are over three million of them, covering more than 90,000 acres.  That’s a huge amount of space with enormous potential. 

I want to transform my rooftop into a wildlife and climate friendly edible garden for both me and the planet!  I’ll be writing about my year of aerial gardening on this blog throughout 2009.  I hope you enjoy reading about my exploits, and please feel free to get in touch with your comments and advice. 

Here’s to a fruitful 2009!
Best wishes, Helen

Ps: visit www.wildlondon.org.uk/gardening for free wildlife friendly gardening guides, and you can find more articles I’ve written on http://helenbabbs.wordpress.com/

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