I’m bouncing back again with edition two of my garden journal, one with serious woody notes to begin with, but looking up with joy and inspiration to the end.

Here I am back with a second garden journal entry, and I do hope to find you well. I’ll jump swiftly into my journal, but make no apologies for the heavy beginning, as I became increasingly bothered over the past week as you’ll see. I promise to try and end on a lighter note though, if I can.

Generally Speaking.

It’s been raining overnight in our neck of the woods and all around is once again squelchy and soft. The rain however, itself causing havoc and flood damage in many areas has been eclipsed yet again by the devastation caused by storm-force winds. (After that opener, you might see that it would feel a little shallow and ignorant if I were simply to write this week about how challenging it’s been to get out in my garden!)

Storm Éowyn last week, and back in December storm Darragh have each been responsible for widespread damage across the UK and beyond, including the shearing and felling of thousands upon thousands of mature trees across gardens, parks, estates and countryside. Whilst the impact across all areas was severe and challenging for people with actual loss of life, itself heart-wrenching, my professional focus at times like this soon turns to the people on the ground: those responsible for the enormous task of making areas safe and accessible.

Being centrally placed in England, and whilst not completely unscathed I feel fortunate to have escaped much of the storm driven destruction – more a case of luck over judgement, I think. Having worked with trees for so long though I’m naturally uncomfortable with it all, understanding as I do the hard physical effort and difficulties associated with clearing up after a storm, not to mention the emotional impact of losing special trees. Trees, being forceful structures that populate our day-to-day lives, can leave an awfully big hole when they’re taken by the will of a storm.

The loss of any tree can be hugely upsetting, especially if a particular tree holds significance: if it were planted by notable individual or to mark an historic occasion, for example. When the number of tree losses rise however, the impact and true cost can lift enormously, not just the cost of removal, repair and replacement, but the physical and emotional impact on our treasured spaces.

To conclude this section, and whilst trying hard here not to spiral into a detailed dialogue on the value of trees or shout into the void from my soap box, I do want to finish with some final words in support of those in far off places dealing with the impacts of said storms. 

The physical, emotional and financial cost of the cleanup will be substantial, and in each shaken location folks will be coming to terms with the impacts of a changing climate; I do hope those caught up in this are getting the help and support they need. 

As we move forward, I know that wise minds are learning from these extreme events, to help us better prepare for a future where we do stand a chance of weathering these storms more effectively: there will be a way and our beloved trees, with a little help, will win through. 

In the Garden

Stepping into the shallows after all, I’m glad to say that I did manage to find time between the showers to flex my green fingers, with my first new year session in the home garden.

The session wasn’t much to write home about, which does present a challenge as that’s exactly what I’m here to do – write about gardens! I did though tackle one ornamental border, cutting back all useless dead growth from last season to expose areas of soil in between shrubs and perennials. Once my mind was made to get stuck in, I very quickly found my stride, trimming, picking up fallen debris and generally tidying.

Leaving a couple of deciduous grasses alone, which I shall trim back a little nearer to spring, (I hope they’re packed with ladybirds so I’ll stay well clear for now,) my goal was to clear away just enough debris so that I could mulch across the surface with a nice insulating layer of organic peat-free material. Whilst the mulch itself is primarily intended to benefit the soil, it will suppress weeds and its visual impact is a treat, leaving a nice dark even surface that sets off the planting beautifully. More borders lie in wait for attention.

As far as the allotment is concerned, last weekend I secured a batch of seed potatoes, and have set these out in a cardboard tray in the shed window to chit, or develop their shoots. This year I’ve gone again for first earlies and maincrop varieties, the former ‘Casablanca’, the latter ‘Elland’, my search continuing for a spud that tastes especially good. I’ll have some space for at least one other variety, so if you’ve a recommendation for a good allrounder, I’m certainly open to suggestions.

Looking ahead.

As well as the spuds, last week I also acquired some more garlic bulbs and onion sets, which I’ve yet to deal with. I’ve some in the ground already that were planted last autumn, but many appear to have lost their shoots to birds, so growing these ones on in modular trays for a while is my plan. Mind you, if I wake up brave, I might plant them direct with some fleece over, we’ll see. (With no Monty right now to tell us what to do at the weekend, how are we to know?!) 

Last time I mentioned the purchase of a new bird box for the garden, which is now all decorated and awaiting installation – another job for the weekend. I’ll share its grand opening on Insta when I do finally fix it in place, the bird box artwork is a bit different to the norm and something of a collaboration – I shall say no more for now!

Finally, now that a new moon has come to pass and waxes towards February’s Snow Moon, I shall be continuing to take as many evening walks as I can, not only to stretch my legs but also to make the very most of the starry skies. They’ve always been there I know, but as the days rapidly draw out, I’m increasingly pulled to make the most of the dark skies while they’re here (at a decent time), and each day find myself looking forward to seeing what the night’s sky will hold. There have been some exquisite opportunities recently.

If you’re local to me and see me leaning on a lamp-post on a street corner, I won’t be waiting for a little lady to walk by, but will certainly be looking up and besotted with the star speckled sky! (If you’re of a certain age you’ll know what I mean!)

For now, I’ll wish you all the best, and will sign off my garden journal. Regards, Gary Webb. Gardening ways.