Rule of Five: Gardening by Narrowboat Signs

 According to my Almanac's month-by-month instructions for gardening by the moon, the remainder of April in the garden should unfold as follows:-

1st quarter to full moon: 20th -27th April:  Sow crops that develop above ground.  Plant seedlings and young plants.

Whilst I have the greatest respect for people who grow their own vegetables, I have yet to develop that level of devotion to the soil.  Our neighbour who, like the Duke of Edinburgh, died just short of his 100th birthday, maintained a typical post-war garden and was the first to admit that his successes were more than matched by his failures.  As I recall, in spite of his sunnier garden, the main crops he harvested were runner beans (can't stand them), rhubarb and potatoes.  The one good tip he gave us, which worked, was to bury a couple of sprouting potatoes in a bag of compost and let nature take its course.  

Our garden is best described as "established;" shaded by many tall trees, excluding the woodland.  Suitable positions for a greenhouse are non-existent and I can't face investing so much time and effort into growing my own, only to be rewarded by a handful of salad once a month.  Last year we attempted to join in with the first lockdown trend of growing our own and whilst our tomato plant looked and smelled incredible, providing an impressive bounty of tomatoes, they were disappointing in texture.  Similarly, our coriander could not grow fast enough to match our demand.  The edible flowers were enjoyed by the slugs and the rainbow chard never appeared.  What we do have are ageing apple trees (one still yields good cookers), plum trees, a raspberry bush, black, red and white currant bushes and, save for a planned herb area, that will have to do.   We're leaving it to the experts this year and concentrating on other projects.

So this month, instead of gardening by the moon, I have been guided by the narrowboats (bear with me).  I've recently become a little bit obsessed with narrowboats and I particularly love narrowboat signwriting.  

I've started a photographic record of my favourites (just for my own personal amusement), but amongst the limited number I have so far, parallels can be drawn between five of the signs and what has been occurring in the garden.  Warning:  Some are quite tenuous.

Jack Frost visited every morning last week.

A couple of times, I broke ice on the surface of the bird bath and the recently filled pond so that the blackbirds could have their morning bath.  

We've been impatiently waiting to plant some marginals and for signs of life to start emerging.

Vitre, from the old French word, meaning "pane of glass" is pretty apt.  In a previous blog post, I mentioned our collection of old glass blocks.  Gareth also skip dived for a couple of stained glass cupboard doors (the glass being the attraction).  Put the two together, loosely assembled, and we have a makeshift cold frame!

Inside, we've been keeping young cosmos and delicate marginal pond plants until the threat of frosts has passed.  I will add my Hollyhock seedlings when ready, to acclimatise them.

A few days ago, we decided to go for it.  The cosmos are now planted up in a Belfast sink.

The pond is gradually taking shape.  We've used the pebbles I had collected from digging in the garden (plus a few larger ones acquired from a ploughed field next to the woods) and created a beach area around the shallow area of the pond for easy wildlife access.

The logs are principally there to disguise the pond liner.  We're working with what we have.  This area was originally home to a Gunnera Manicata, but that didn't survive the winter and a replacement now resides in our kitchen, awaiting planting.  The plan is to plant behind and around the pond area with a few evergreen ferns and to add a some strategically placed larger boulders, so that over time, we can lose some of the wood and have a softer, more natural look.

We have some marginal pond plants; bulrush, iris, water mint, marsh marigold, water figwort and ragged robin, plus water violets and Myriophyllum crispata (upright water milfoil) for oxygenation.  

At last, just in time for the end of the school Easter holidays, the temperature hit double figures and the first tulips are flowering!

Finally, I was able to don my Kinky Melon kaftan (thanks Vix) and enjoy quality time in the garden.  Excuse the dirty feet!  

We had the first BBQ of the year....our own rule of five.  The three of us, plus my Mom and Gareth's Dad.

Mom, sampling the first sausage, bathed in BBQ smoke-diffused sunlight

My father-in-law and BBQ King

       (Top BBQ tip:  Beans and fried onions combined).

I pottered and photographed insects (I'm surprisingly OK with them when we're separated by a camera).

And yesterday provided another cause for celebration, when we spotted our first visitor to the pond.  No, not Lotte the cat, who now refuses to drink from any other vessel...

...but a pond skater!  Apparently, pond skaters and water boatmen are usually the first to move in.  We're hoping more will follow. 

Happiness can be found in the most unlikely places - which leads me to mention the late and already greatly missed Helen McCrory.  I was moved to tears by her husband Damian's tribute, published in The Sunday Times.  She was such a great role model for women.  One thing in particular resonated with me.  

"Some people believe happiness is a right, some people find happiness difficult.  Helen believed you choose happiness."

Have a good week!