Emma Cooper

Last year I read an article on Treehugger about the Getty Villa herb garden and was intrigued enough to add Gardens and Plants of the Getty Villa to my wishlist – because the Getty Villa is a recreation of a Roman villa, complete with Roman gardens.

I was given the book for Christmas, and I have thoroughly enjoyed reading it. The Introduction explains why the villa was designed and built – drawing on archaeological excavations in Pompeii and Herculaneum, as well as art and written sources, for both the layout and the planting of the gardens. The climate in southern California is very similar to that of Herculaneum, although a bit more foggy.

Topiary and evergreens were used to give year-round interest outside of the main flowering season. The Romans wouldn’t have had access to the variety of plants that grace modern gardens, but they had begun importing useful plants from around the world – lemons and oranges, cherries from the Pontic region, apricots from Armenia, peaches and damsons from Syria and pomegranates and jujubes from North Africa. They also brought in unusual varieties of common plants, such as a ‘round’ apple variety from Greece.

The Romans, of course, also introduced a lot of useful species into Britain. They brought almonds, walnuts and sweet chestnuts for nut trees; celery, coriander, cucumber, dill, garlic, onions, orache, parsley, radish and turnips were all added to our veg patches by the Romans. They appreciated multipurpose plants, too – shade trees and good bee plants, as well ad medicinal and ritual herbs.

The main section of the book explores each of the four separate gardens around the villa, and is written in the style of a guide book (by Patrick Bowe). There are colour photos (although they are not exceptional) and good descriptions of the planting. At the end of each description there is a section on the plants used, written by Michael D. Dehart (Supervisor for Ground and Gardens at the Villa). The gardening advice given is relevant to the local climate, but there are plenty of species (both useful and ornamental) that would be appropriate elsewhere.

There are notes about trees grown in large pots – in part because the gardens are above an underground parking garage and other structures, but also because the Romans used them. Dwarf strawberry trees, for example, as well as pomegranates and lemons. Olives are featured in the gardens, of course, but the gardeners have chosen a non-fruiting cultivar, to avoid having to clear up the mess when the fruit drops!

Throughout the book there are interesting historical and ethnobotanical notes. White iris (Iris germanica ‘Florentina’) is the source of orris root – its roots are dried and powdered and used in perfumery and some gins. Apparently the roots are also used in Moroccan cuisine, and it looks as though the plants are pretty hardy – they could very well be grown here as an ‘edimental’.

Apparently it was the Romans who first began to pickle unopened caper buds to use as a condiment, and they used dried leaves from the herb Costmary as bookmarks to repel paper-eating insects. I won’t spoil the rest of it, as it’s a thoroughly enjoyable read. And if you ever find yourself in Malibu, apparently you can visit the Getty Villa for free.

Back in September I placed an order with Poyntzfield Herb Nursery, which is located in the north of Scotland. Ordering from them is a little bit different from your usual online shop – you have to enquire whether they have what you want in stock, and whether it’s the right time of year for it to be dispatched, before you can place your order. I always find situations like that a bit intimidating – I feel like my enquiry is going to come across as a dumb question.

Still, I persevered and ordered three plants – wasabi, rakkyo onions and Japanese ginger. You can see a bit of a Japanese theme going on there ;). They arrived safely shortly afterwards.

I vaguely remember the day that I potted them up. I was either in a hurry or having a bad day, and squeezing in planting my new babies before they deteriorated. The Japanese ginger (Zingiber mioga) I potted up and kept on the windowsill. When I planted it, it was an unassuming root cutting, and it stayed that way for quite some time. I began to think it was dead. However, last week I spotted it had sprouted, and today it is about 8 inches tall:

Its spindly nature makes it quite hard to photograph at the moment. If I remember correctly it’s the flower buds and shoots that are eaten, rather than the roots.

The rakkyo (Allium chinense) were potted up and nestled into the corner of a larger container. They’re little pearl onions, and currently look like this:

And I planted the wasabi (Wasabia japonica) in one of the containers on the patio.

This morning it occured to me to go and check on the wasabi – and I looked on the patio and was surprised to see it wasn’t there. I struggled to remember what I’d planted it with, and it turned out that I hadn’t taken any photos of it that might have given me some clues. My wasabi was lost – either intentionally moved and forgotten, or unintentionally turfed out.

Eventually I remembered that I planted the wasabi along with some Malva moschata in a trug, without any drainage – all of the plants in it like having wet feet. But then winter came and at some point it rained quite a bit and the plants had very wet feet indeed and so I took pity on them and replanted them in a large container with some drainage holes. I remembered that much, but couldn’t remember whether the wasabi was replanted at the same time, or whether it had been overlooked and properly lost.

Fortunately a close inspection found it nestling underneath the M. moschata, and it has been properly labelled to avoid any doubt in future. It’s still quite diddy, but hopefully will thrive and become large. If I wanted to harvest the roots for wasabi then I would have to wait at least 2 years and sacrifice the whole plant; I would want to propagate it before then as I only have the one. But apparently you can use the leaves as a punch salad ingredient. Whether or not we will like it remains to be seen!

It’s grey today and not overly warm. There’s not much gardening going on, and not much growing – although the snow drops have come up early due to the odd winter weather we have been having. Plenty of people are getting itchy green fingers and starting to sow seeds, but if you’re worried that it may be too early (what would you do with leggy seedlings in the event of a late frost?) then you may prefer to turn your attentions to houseplants instead.

In episode 65 of the Alternative Kitchen Garden Show I talked about growing your own fresh air – using houseplants to clean up your indoor environment and help prevent ‘sick building syndrome’ that can lead to all kinds of niggling health complaints.

And the Flower Council of Holland have created a new website called Me and My Plant where you can take a quick test and discover which houseplant would be your perfect partner. It’s a bit of fun for a grey afternoon, and I got paired with ‘Peter the Phalaenopsis’, which tickled Pete no end. They’re also giving away copies of the ‘Me and My Plant’ houseplant handbook, which is great if you don’t have the greenest fingers.

It also looks as if you can create an account on the website and be notified when it’s time to water your plant – a handy reminder for people like me who are rubbish at watering. Unfortunately my sign up hasn’t quite gone according to plan, so I can’t let you know how it works at the moment! I am sure it will be fixed soon….

If you do have a look at the site and take the test, do come back and share which plant you have been partnered with! I have been given a Kalanchoe to give away, so I will enter everyone who leaves a comment (and who is a UK resident) into a prize draw at the end of the month. Don’t forget to leave your email address if you want to be in with a chance of winning!

While I was ‘away’ on my Writer’s Retreat, I thought about books I would like other people to write, and from there was gently reminded that my bookshelf is a graveyard of good intentions. There’s no point buying new books if they remain unread!*

And so I have tried to get back into the reading habit. First on the list to finish was a book I started last winter, Out of the Scientist’s Garden, by Richard Stirzaker. Stirzaker is an Australian agricultural scientist, and so his take on gardening is a little different to the ones we normally see. And, from a British perspective, there is far more emphasis on water use than we’re used to, although water is something we can no longer take for granted.

The book is comprised of 21 separate essays, divided into three main sections. In Section one, ‘The View from Our Garden’, Stirzaker uses the familiar environment of the garden to examine the less familiar topic of turning water into food. He talks about the water cycle, different ‘colours’ of water (you may have heard of grey and black water, but how about blue and green?), virtual water and the difference between physical and economic scarcity.

He takes us through a year in the vegetable garden, with the cycles of sowing and harvesting, hungry gap and gluts. In the orchard he introduces the idea of chilling units, essential for healthy crops of some fruits. He talks about pests and diseases, wildlife and the factors involved in flavour. Then he starts to explain some of the differences between horticulture and agriculture, a theme that continues through the book.

In Section 2, ‘A Journey Through the Soil’ we learn that no two soils are the same, and hence although it is possible to produce food with less water it is difficult to do so in agricultural situations where homogeneity is the norm. There’s a lot in this section about the science of irrigation (Stirzaker’s speciality); there’s probably more than an amateur gardener would ever need, or want, to know.

The final section, ‘Feeding Ourselves’, looks at what we actually eat and how we feed our ever-increasing population. There’s an interesting note in chapter 15 – apparently the only Australian native species (animal or vegetable) to ever be successfully domesticated is the macadamia nut.

In chapter 16 there is a discussion of the use of edible perennials, which highlights why they have not been used more in agriculture. There’s the usual stuff about the ease of harvesting, etc, but the book also explains that perennials divert more energy into growth – of root systems, woody stems and defence systems – than annual plants. Although these mean perennials can access more resources, it means their ‘efficiency’ at converting these resources into edible food is lower.

The final chapters look at permaculture and agroforestry, no till systems and why it’s hard to deliver agricultural solutions in developing countries.

In fact, that becomes the final theme of the book – the problems scientists face in developing solutions. It’s easy to ‘solve’ one problem and simply cause another; ecological systems (that both horticulture and agriculture rely on) are extremely complex. There are no portable solutions; what we need to do is ensure that gardeners and farmers – wherever they are – have the training and information they need to make the best use of their local resources.

If you’re interested in the science of gardening – horticulture – and food security issues in general then this is a very informative book. It’s also a little heavy going at times, and interesting but neither inspirational nor immediately useful. One for the reference shelf.

Pete and I were having a discussion a couple of days ago about how my Writer’s Retreat has been going; we have separately come to the conclusion that it has been a complete disaster. The period since Christmas has been one overwhelmed by grief and loss (and yes, I do know they’re ‘just’ chickens).

Life has changed a lot, but it still goes on. I am reading more – harking back to an earlier period when the first hour or so of my day was reading time, without the need to go outside and see to the chickens.

The picture above is of my office, the room in which I am supposed to write. I took the photo this morning, and the office is in a state of flux, but the although these distinct piles of clutter will be moved on, no doubt others will take their place. The neutral decor is reflected throughout the house – a deliberate decision to make it easier to sell when the time comes, although hardly inspiring.

I have a view out into the garden – again, hardly inspiring on a grey day like today. The room is north facing, and there’s a ring road in the distance that can be quite noisy. The Raptors (the three younger chickens) were also noisy; writing with the window open in the summer became impossible.

Behind my desk is a wall of books. There are some gaps on the shelves as I am having a bit of a clear out. They will gradually be filled; Pete has bought me some new books for my upcoming birthday.

The problem is that I have developed an aversion to my office. I am perfectly happy writing, just not in there. The noisy chickens were part of it; the fact that it has become a bit of a glory hole over the winter isn’t helping, but that at least is easily remedied.

Mind you, once the clutter has been removed it will feel even more sterile. I need a way to inject a bit of life, preferably without spending any money or doing anything too permanent.

Would you like to spend more time outdoors in beautiful surroundings in 2012? And at the same time make a vital contribution to the work of the Oxford Botanic Garden and Harcourt Arboretum? If so, you might like to consider joining the volunteer teams in one of the following roles:

Visitor support volunteers at Harcourt Arboretum
To meet and greet visitors to the Arboretum, tell them what highlights there are to see today, and explain about current activities for visitors e.g. explorer backpacks. This role will support ticket office staff at busy periods, such as at bluebell time, at rhododendron time, and during the autumn colour season. The volunteers will work at weekends during these periods, from either 10.00am to 1.30pm or from 12.30pm to 4.00pm, or for the full day, and on the Tuesdays of Family Friendly activity days.

Volunteer gardener with the Garden team at the Botanic Garden
Five volunteers are needed, each of whom will be assigned to a member of the Garden team. Each volunteer will work with that team member on practical horticultural work. The work will be fortnightly, for half a day, from 9.00am to 1.00pm on Mondays or Thursdays, from March to May.

Nothoscordum weeders at the Botanic Garden
Working in a team of four, weeding beds in the Garden to eradicate this pernicious weed. We started this project in 2011 and it was very successful, with volunteers really enjoying the team work and activity. The teams will work from 9.00am to 1.00pm on a regular day a fortnight. The period will be for three months either from March to May, or from June to September: therefore six sessions in total for each team member.

Training would be given for all these volunteer roles.

If you are interested in any of these roles please contact our Volunteer Co-ordinator Mary Isaac at volunteers@obg.ox.ac.uk or phone her on 01844 279606. Or, come and meet the teams and find out more about the various volunteer activities at a drop-in session:

At the Garden (to find out about the gardener and Nothoscordum weeder roles)
Monday 20th February, 2.00pm – 4.00pm
Tuesday 21st February, 10.30am – 1.00pm

At the Arboretum (to find out about the visitor support roles)
Weds 11th April, 2.00pm – 4.00pm
Friday 13th April, 10.30am – 1pm

Given that I have extra space in the garden this year, and some vouchers to spend, Pete took me to Homebase on Friday to have a look around. Outside in the garden centre I spotted a pair of Elaeagnus x ebbingei, a shrub that is very popular in forest gardens because of its edible fruit (one of those things you just can’t buy!) and its ability to fix nitrogen. They had two, so I bought two. They came in natty purple pots, indicative of a special offer – shrubs in purple pots were £7.99 each, or £18 for three, so if you’re looking for shrubs it may be worth going to see what your local branch has in stock.

I also bought a pack of garlic that had been reduced to £2 because the contents should have been planted by the end of December. Since I started gardening I have been replanting my own cloves, of Thermidrome, but they have been badly hit by rust in the last couple of years and back in the autumn I thought I should replace them. Then I looked at the garden plan and decided not to plant garlic this season. Now, with the extra space, I have changed my mind again. For my £2 I got a big bulb of Iberian Wight garlic and one of Purple Wight garlic, plus a gigantic elephant garlic clove.

Finally I bought a new packet of Mustard ‘Pizzo’. I tried it last year and it makes a lovely baby salad leaf. The one shown above is the current crop in the Grow Dome, grown from an autumn sowing that emptied the packet. My ‘new’ packet is one from last season, reduced to £1, but the germination was good in the autumn so it should be fine.

Over the weekend Pete and I have spent 2.5 hours outside, despite the freezing weather. We have dismantled the chicken run and moved the metal posts to the other side of the garden where they can support the same chicken wire mesh and climbing plants.

We uprooted the two doomed fruit trees (the cherry and the plum), and I winter pruned the remaining apple and pear. Then I cleared the leafy perennials that I was going to grow for the chickens out of the wooden raised bed and planted the garlic in there instead. A late planting may not give the largest harvest, but given the wonky weather it might!

There’s a lot left to do, and the Elaeagnus will have to stay in their pots for now until we have finished laying out the new beds and decided on the planting plan.

The chickens are gone. Don’t ask why – I outlined our reasons in Rehoming. I still stand by them, but after having kept chickens for nearly six years, their absence has left a big hole in our lives. We are suffering from Empty Nest Syndrome.

Wednesday was moving day. They didn’t go quietly. Chasing chickens is never graceful, and Pete got covered in mud. We should have bought a net, which makes things much simpler. But eventually they were all safely in cat baskets for their short journey.

They have gone to live in a village not far from here, looked after by a lady with 10 years of hen keeping experience. They have moved onto an allotment, with upstairs accommodation. Apparently they mastered the steps with no problem on their first night there. Once they settle in they will have free-ranging privileges and the attentions of a cockerel. It sounded like chicken heaven to me, and I know they will be well taken care of. I can now imagine them all, forever living, somewhere else.

After they were gone, Pete pointed out an aspect of their departure that I hadn’t considered – I get their space back. We measured it as around 25 square metres – all well fertilized. The chicken run is currently home to 4 small fruit trees, but two of those are being removed, which will be much easier once we’ve taken the run down.

The current contents of the compost bins will be the last batch with chicken poo; it’s possible the garden will be overrun with slugs and snails and other beasties that would normally have been chucked to the chickens. And the wooden raised bed, that I was planting with perennial greens for the chickens, now needs a new role in life. Best get out there and get started while the sun is shining.

Just before Christmas I was given a set of four windowsill mushroom kits by Gardening Express. They languished in the hall until 29th December, at which point I set them all up and put them on the living room windowsill.

At that point, they looked like this:

That’s the oyster mushroom kit at the top, shiitake underneath. By 7th January we had babies, and they were very cute:

And today we have some rather impressive specimens. The oyster mushrooms are particularly beautiful (and now getting on for 6 inches tall):

Guess it’s mushrooms for dinner tonight :)

Yesterday was a very difficult day, and today is due to offer up more of the same. Hopefully it will see an end to the drama, though, and I will blog about that in due course. On Monday I spent around three hours working on IncrEdibles and reached a bit of a milestone – 15,000 words, with all of the people profiles added in. Time to start on the plant profiles.

Pete has stopped eating meat, and I have drastically cut back and so this morning I have had an experience I haven’t had for a while – washing the accumulated greasy grunge off the grill, this time the result of a couple of lamb chops. Hence I have been thinking about fat.

These days we’re obsessed with fat – eating it, avoiding it, and working it off after Christmas (Pete is out pounding the pavement as I type, although he began last year and it’s not a resolution for the new year in his case). But for most of human history we would have been hard pressed to get too much fat in our diets. And in World War II it would have been unthinkable for me to have wasted the fat that came off my lamb – it would have been cleaned up, solidified in the pantry and used for cooking to supplement the meagre fat ration. Going back further into history every scrap would have been eaten or used for lamps, or possibly even rather fragrant skin care!

Now we’re exhorted not to pour waste fat down the drain (where it clogs the sewers and encourages rats). We can take waste oil to the recycling centre to be turned into biodiesel, or use it to make high calorie snacks for the garden birds. You can also compost small amounts (it’s made of hydrocarbons, afterall) if you mix it with something dry like paper.

If you had to grow your own fat, you might find it a little tricky. There are plenty of plants that produce it, so you wouldn’t necessarily have to raise animals, but your diet would look very different.

There are no vegetables I can think of that have significant amounts of fat; the only fatty fruits I know of that are regularly eaten are avocados and olives – neither likely to be very productive in the British climate!

However, there are plenty of plants that develop oily seeds, and many of those can be grown here quite successfully – it’s processing them into cooking oil that causes issues on a small scale. Sunflowers are a big crop in France and grow well enough here; for an oil crop you’d want a black-seeded variety, but if you’re going to eat the seeds then apparently the striped ones are better.

Pumpkin seeds are also a reasonable source of fat and you can also get several varieties that have been bred with hulless seeds. Pumpkin seeds can be a valuable by-product of a crop grown primarily for squash, although you have to experiment to find a dual-purpose variety that works for you and you climate.

It’s also possible to grow flaxseed, linseed and sesame here, although how easy they are to harvest and thresh I don’t know. I’m sure some of you can come along, chew the fat, and offer some more suggestions ;)