Pea shoots grow up!

I sowed some peas in the spring so that I could eat delicious, tender pea shoots with my salads and in stir fries.  I sowed them in the new herb border, as it didn't have much in at the time.  I was very logical and popped the peas into the soil in amongst the onion sets I'd bought for a bargain price of 90pence the bag.

It was great to walk out and snip a few inches of succulent green shoot and tendrils to add to my oft-served avocado salad.

Then we went away for a week.  Then it rained.  And rained.  And rained.  And the pea shoots shot up, entwining themselves around the onion leaves, if, indeed, they are called leaves.  Good point, that - does anyone know what the green shoots that arise from an onion are called?  They appear to perform the function of a leaf, yet are not what one would commonly recognise as a leaf.  Interesting.

However, back to the shooting pea shoots ... white flowers appeared in no time at all, the red splashes you can see are the pelargoniums behind them, on the patio! 

Then the cutest, tiniest peas thrust away the white flowers, and I picked the tiny pods and ate them like mangetout - so sweet, and crisp - delicious. 

I've allowed the rest to swell - all the rain in our hose-pipe banned area is doing a wonderful job for them!  Now I crop a handful of peas every now and then, and this makes up for the fact that I no longer have the pea shoots on my salads:-)

red, colour in the garden, vegetables, chard

Isn't red a beautiful colour? It warms the heart, and gladdens the soul. Today I'm going to share just a little of the glory of my garden at the moment.



The chard is positively glowing in the vegetable beds. Plumes of flame sprouting from the earth like mini volcanoes. The central stems can be cut from the leaf, and make a crisp vegetable, akin to celery. The crinkly, puckered leaves are soft, and similar to spinach, but with a stronger flavour. But the colour, the colour!!!

The reverse of the stems is that beautiful pinky red of the forced rhubarb stems that abound in early spring, so different from that of the inner rib that's visible.

The orangey red flowers of the runner beans are still framing the garden as they clamber over the arches. It's possible to see the long, broad runner beans (which are being left to provide seeds to sow next spring) dangling down from a couple of the plants. Once the decision has been made as to which plants to gather seed from, this plant will cease to produce new beans, believing it's job to be done. So only select one or two plants, or you'll lose production!

The Photinia Red Robin is confused, and sending up the deep, almost mahogany, new leaves it should be saving for next spring. I'm not complaing, though, as they are so beautiful, this photo doesn't really do it justice, but you get the idea.

The red Rowan berries are like clusters of small, round rubies. Allegedly this augures a harsh winter, so don't say you haven't been warned.

The autumnal tints are spreading on the Rose of Sharon leaves, and the berries are reddening on their way to being jet black.

The flat, multi-blossomed heads of the late summer flowering Sedum are just opening from within the palest green sepals. The contrast is spectacular - fresh green and rich reddy pink tones.

There's a lot to gladden the eye in the garden just now... I hope you've enjoyed seeing a glimpse.

vegetable, runner beans,

The runner beans are running away with themselves now that they are well established. Some of them are aiming for the stratosphere, sending twisting tendrils way above the supporting arches, which are, themselves, tall enough to walk under!

I've taken three croppings so far of tender, succulent young beans. Som much better than buying them in the market or supermarkets, where the available beans have been grown for length and proclivity rather than flavour.

As so many plants this year survived to adulthood, I am able to pick them whilst they are relatively short in length, at about six or seven inches, before they have formed the stringy bit that would normally need to be peeled out.

All I need to do is wash them, boil for a few minutes, then serve with a drizzle of oil and a grinding of salt and pepper. Delicious :-)

"wake up dead"

Don't people say the strangest things? I was listening to the TV news a couple of days ago, the day Michael Jackson's death was formally announced. One of his aquaintances said something along the lines of 'If Michael wakes up dead one morning...', my partner, who was staying overnight, and I looked at each other and said 'wake up dead!!! - how do you do that?'.

What other strange things do we say, without even thinking about it? You can't make a silk purse out of a sow's ear - evidently true. It's raining cats and dogs - really? What are your favourite sayings?

My runner beans are now about a meter high, and the broad beans are approaching a foot. I was very late sowing this year, so I'm delighted that they appear to be thriving. I credit David with the success to a large part, as he sieved all the soil for the three raised veg beds, so there is very little damage from slugs and snails, and almost 100% germination. I expect the little devils will colonise the soil eventually, we all know how well they can climb - I've seen them at the top of my runner bean arch munching away on my plants with evident enjoyment. Oh well, at least this year is easier than most :-)

The swiss chard has self seeded wonderfully, so there is a plethora of vibrant green all over the place, and lots of lovely young leaves to enjoy in stir fries and casseroles. It's growing very happily below the runner bean arches, and will continue to do so until they've grown so densely over the arch that they block too much sun from them. I'll have eaten plenty by then, and frozen some for the winter, too.

My little snowball swedes are thriving, too. It's so lovely to harvest small ones, between the size of a golf ball and a tennis ball. They are delicious finely sliced or grated into salads, and also cooked in any of the traditional recipes. The snowball varieties don't take up much space either:-)

Finally, the spring onions are gathering strength - it seems to have taken them a while, but they are getting there - probably the heat hasn't helped them, and I haven't been as dedicated with the watering as I should have been, as I've had some silly bug.

I've never really tried growing vegetables over the winter, except the ubiquitous sprouting broccoli, which I absolutely adore - nearly as much as asparagus. I had an asparagus bed at my last house - there was space to indulge in one there, as we had nearly a half acre site. Here, I couldn't justify a bed dedicated to one vegetable which needs the space all year, I simply don't have enough room.

Anyone any ideas as to what would be good to try? I've got some cabbage seeds to sow in July for the spring, but that's about it. I tried Lamb's lettuce, but didn't think it worth the bother, it was so lacking in flavour. I'd love to hear suggestions, please!