So How Did That Happen?

So now I’ve been the proud owner of a fully up-and-running polytunnel for a whole month. And I’ve learnt one or two things.

The first is – it works! It’s amazing. And I love it. I know it’s only a tiny polytunnel, and I’m not exactly going for self-sufficiency, but I can certainly see the potential.

Because I was so delayed, due to bad backs, dog walking, work, age, life …, I was worried my polytunnel might look a bit pathetic for the summer. This is not exactly scientific, but I shoved in what I had got, which wasn’t much: tomato plants I’d been given; an aubergine and a chilli I bought and a knock-down price from a local garden centre after they’d done their best to kill them; four melons (which promptly died) and about six squashes I’d grown from seed, and a few runner beans and peas (also grown from seed). To fill in the enormous gaps, I put in the old staple of nasturtiums, on the principle that they look pretty and are edible, and would keep down any weeds until I’m ready to plant my winter crops of carrots etc.

And then I got busy. Not on polytunnel stuff, but work and life. And somehow, without me even looking, a jungle has taken over in there. I’m still amazed. Halfway up a Welsh mountain, this makes such a difference! I keep on looking at the weedy specimens I’ve kept outside as a sort of control group, and the huge, lush things inside, and I just know that me and my polytunnel are going to be happy for years.

Just one or two things to get sorted. The first is an irrigation system. I didn’t bother when I ordered the polytunnel. I had romantic visions of me and my iPod wandering out each evening to uncoil the hose and water peacefully, in between pulling out a few weeds and picking the odd tomato or so.

Okay: hands up. It doesn’t happen.

Well, it does most of the time, but uncoiling the hose is a faff, I still haven’t got an outside tap, and watering in the rain (and up here in Snowdonia we have serious amounts of rain) after a day of dodging showers, driving through puddles and getting drenched while walking the dog, is not exactly my idea of fun. There are warm sunny evenings when it’s a nice way of unwinding from work, but I think an irrigation system might be better. And then there’s the question of what I do if I go away. Not even a whole polytunnel of tomatoes might lure my neighbours or cat sitters into getting out the hose every day.

So an outside tap and a simple irrigation system, plus timer for holidays, is my next priority.

But these are just teething problems. And in fact, although I was disappointed about not being able to get into full swing this year, it’s actually been quite good in that it’s given me time to get to know my polytunnel and understand its potential and what might work best for me, before I start serious planting.

I’ve now added a few lettuces (also half-dead bargains from the garden centre), and I’m going to plant salad stuff from seed (rocket, yum!) to keep on cropping through the year.

And maybe I’m relaxed about this because the veg box has started again, so I’ve lots of lovely organic, locally grown, freshly picked and dug up veg every week. And am I glad I resisted temptation and didn’t plant courgettes. I love courgettes, but there are only so many one woman and one dreaming-of-non-veggie-sausages dog can eat.

This week I also found a jam-making pan in the local charity shop for £5, while doing my usual root around. I was about to go out and invest in a new one, so I quickly grabbed it with both hands. There’s lots of lovely fruit out there at the moment.

Time to start trying my hand at jams and chutneys!

Polytunnels!

The polytunnel is up at last!

It arrived earlier than I expected, when I was out at work (of course), and landed in twelve enormous pieces in my neighbour’s garden. You see, I live at the end of a street that is no longer a street, which is very good for my privacy, but confuses delivery men no end. They usually end up dumping things with my neighbours, whose cottage is the only one that can be seen from the road.

Luckily, I have lovely neighbours. So my polytunnel went the way of many deliveries, being handed over the wall, piece by piece, with the help of my neighbours’ American visitors, who’d already braved Icelandic volcanic ash to get here. How to see life in Snowdonia!

So I then had twelve pieces of polytunnel sitting in my living room….

I would like to say it was easy, and that I heroically put it up by myself. But I’d be lying. I took one look at the instructions (I don’t do instructions), had a large glass of wine, and phoned a friend. Several friends, in fact. One of whom had done this before (phew).

The first part seemed to take an awful lot of digging holes and measuring, and checking angles via Pythagoras. Not helped by the patch of nettles I’d been carefully preserving to make plant food. Plus the fact that we found the old base of the Victorian end-of-the-garden loo, which was impossible to budge, and means I’ve got a shallow patch of soil that is going to need a raised bed at some point.

The frame went up quite quickly, and suddenly it was real! I spent a few evenings digging and raking and getting out as many stones and bits of slate as possible and chopping down the last few bits of overhanging branches, and then we were ready for the covering. I’d arranged for plenty of friends to come and help for the big day, with homemade chocolate cake all ready. And, of course, after weeks of endless sun, it chose that day to rain. So we just ate the cake.

But the next evening was fine and finally the cover went on, with much huffing and puffing and pausing for thought.

And so now I am the proud owner of an 8ft x 10ft polytunnel. Having turned philosophical after doing my back in, I’m just concentrating on getting used to it for the moment, the plan to concentrate this year on starting things in the summer to grow over winter.

At the moment I’ve got lots of tomatoes, and an aubergine plant I got half price because it was almost dead but appears to be alive. I’ve put in a few squashes that appear to be flourishing, and three melons that seem to have died. And some nasturtians for colour.

Oh, and my vine. I thought long and hard about a vine and what kind to get. Then I remembered a flat I’d rented when I lived in London. It was on the ground floor of an old Victorian house with an old wooden conservatory and a grape vine that came from a cutting from the Hampton Court vine. The grapes, I remember, were delicious: small, black, sweet and juicy. A bit of research, and I discovered there were cuttings from the Hampton Court vine for sale. And not for a king’s ransom, either. And okay, so this isn’t exactly the banks of the Thames, but it’s definitely worth a try!

Which, I discovered, when the vine arrived (via my long suffering neighbours, yet again), meant even more digging. Lots of it. A huge hole outside the polytunnel, to be exact, with drainage and plenty of compost, a touch of limestone and plenty of bone meal. Phoebe the dog got very interested in the bone meal. Which might sound disgusting, but is positively civilized compared to the other things she snuffles out in the nice, newly dug, cat-friendly soil around the polytunnel. (I know, don’t even go there. How can a dog in a pink collar have such disgusting personal habits?)

So far it seems to be working. My vine is flourishing. And I’m enjoying pottering around of an evening, watching my tomatoes grow and plotting for the future. It’s a wonderful space, and its own little world. I’m getting used to opening it up every morning, and watering every night before I shut it up against slugs and the dark.

Time I think for a celebration. The elderflowers are just at their best. Time to try making elderflower champagne again. That was the sound of summer, when I was a little girl: the sound of elderflower champagne bottle popping gently under the sink…