Talking dirty

I've been writing this morning, for the NZ Gardener. My topic has been dirt and my fondness for it. I'm not able to post the story here, as I've a contract that specifies this and that, but should be allowed a 'teaser', I reckon. They'll let me know if I'm not. Here's a snippet. Maybe you'll be prompted to buy the magazine after reading my dirty prose, who knows? The photo is not the one I've sent for publication.

"I've usually got soil in my hair as well; gritty stuff that comes from I know not where; I like to dig but I'm not a mole. I find it on my pillow some mornings, like a gardener's halo. I don't have a particularly expansive cultivation style, so how I come to be covered in dirt puzzles me. It's like twigs. I get lots of twigs; down my collar, in my pockets, occasionally in my ears. How and when do they arrive at their final resting place bemuses me; I don't fling them about like confetti. Or roll about on the forest floor. Much. It could be that I'm magnetic to forest duff. Dirt though, is my real issue. I have it under my nails on most days. Occasionally, I meet well-known people, important people, people who are clean. I shake their laundered hands and notice I have humus under my nails. Or clay. They notice too. I regard dirty nails as a sign that a politician can be trusted. I've only met a handful whose nails matched mine. Some evenings I feel tired from my day's activities in the garden and wonder if that weariness comes from the weight of the soil I've been carrying around all day."

 

Hairy giants

Last weeks on-line NZ Gardener published some advice I had written a couple of years ago, about growing your own Supertom tomatoes. I learned the trick from an old chap who was revelling in the discovery that he could by-pass the expensive 'buy one from a garden centre' option by growing and grafting his own. I have since had a lot of feed back from the story and was interested to see it surface again.
Here's the article and a link to the on-line Gardener, which you can sign up for, free, and receive every week, if you so desire.

Q. Could you please tell me how or where I could get some seed of the tomatoes that are used for grafting to make Supertoms? I am keen to try to graft my own next year. I hope you or some of your readers may be able to help me. Bill Harrison, Geraldine
A. Here's some advice from Homegrown Tomatoes (though you'll have to wait to try this until next year, as you need to grow the plants on for a season to get the seed). Supertoms have been a big hit since their introduction. These grafted plants promise huge crops – and deliver them by the bucketful. If you’ve ever bought one of these extra-vigorous wonder tomatoes you’ll have noticed evidence of tampering on the lower stem. They’ve been grafted, and there’s nothing wrong with that. Grafting isn’t about genetic modification or other scientific tricks – it’s simply strapping the head of a top-fruiting type to the vigorous roots of a workhorse. Grafted tomatoes don’t come cheap, but canny gardeners can grow their own grafted plants. This is a two-year process but it’s well worth giving it a go. You need to start by buying a Supertom. Then – and this is the hard part – lop off its head. Chop off the ‘Moneymaker’ or ‘Kakanui 2000’ and let the rootstock grow into a wild, hairy looking beast. At the end of the season, let its small, hard, hairy fruit ripen and save the seeds. Sow these next year and – voila! – you have your own rampant rootstock on which to graft your favourite varieties. To graft two tomatoes, slice off a little section of the outer layer of the stem of both, then bind gently with tape. The two plants quickly become one as the wounds heal together. Once this has been achieved, cut the top off the wild tomato, leaving only the desirable fruiter to grow. It’s no great art and a lot of fun. Robert Guyton

Sunday morning coffee

NZ Gardener has an on-line supplement 'Get Growing' which comes flashing through every Friday. Last week's edition covered coffee grounds in its Q&A section:
If you've ever wondered ...

Q. I've seen lots of advice for using coffee grinds in the garden to deter snails and also to even out the spread of seeds when mixed with them at sowing time. I wonder if this has an any effect on the soil. Does it affect the pH balance (I think coffee grinds are acid)? Does it contribute too much of any chemical to the soil over the long term? Mandy Hewett




A. Coffee grounds have a reasonable level of nitrogen so they're useful as a fertiliser. The nitrogen is present as a protein and made available over time by microbes. Depending on the source, the grounds will be around 2 per cent nitrogen and 0.2 per cent phosphorus dry weight. The residual caffeine is also a stimulant to microbial activity. Adding 250g per square metre each year is likely to be near the upper limit and even less should be applied to areas that will be sown in the next couple of months. Otherwise seedlings may be more prone to fungal diseases. At these rates, the slight acidic effect of the coffee grounds won't be significant. Most plants will benefit from moderate applications of coffee grounds, and some gardeners report that acid lovers like azaleas, rhodos and blueberries thrive. Dr Tim Jenkins
 
Tim knows his stuff. I've not met him yet but I hope to sometime soon.

Ogon goes country wide

New Zealand Gardener magazine has run an article on Riverton's driftwood art and used this fine photo of our now famous friend in his pre-felled state.

The article describes the well known and oft-asked-for ungulate too as:

"a spread-antlered moose with driftwood ribs, hooves, a great moosey head and ...well everything else a moose has, all fashioned from bleached branches and logs washed around the edges of the estuary."

That's some good writing in my opinion :-)

My contribution to quake relief

                                         











The editor of the New Zealand Gardener writes in her From the Editor column:

"We heard from many readers of NZ Gardener who'd been affected, including Joanne Churcher who asked for thanks to be passed on to our glasshouse columnist Robert Guyton. "I had followed his tip to put containers of water in the hothouse to keep plants warm - and so had about 20 two litre bottles of water when the quake hit," Joanna wrote. "We were able to give water to neighbours in need."

Glad to have been of some use Joanne.

Lynda's blog

NZ Gardener's 'Editor at large', Lynda Hallinan has a blog and here it is.
This post talks about our Environment Centre and the wonderful apple peelers therein.

Mattock matters

At last! I’ve found my mattock! I’ve been searching for it for years, this perfect mattock, and I finally found it in Bluff of all places, a great little second hand shop on the main drag opposite the wharves. I’ve been on the lookout for a well made mattock, adze, grubber call it what you will, ever since I saw one in the hands of a waka carver years ago. I’ve no ambition to adze out a log to paddle – I want the mattock for carving off weeds from around trees that have been planted in areas where the growth of grass and other vigorous plants threaten their future and there’s nothing better for the job than a well honed, perfectly weighted, strongly shafted mattock. This one was leaning nonchalantly against the window on the footpath outside of the store but not for long, once I’d laid eyes on it. I made for the counter, picking up a beautiful handsaw and a pair of crisp-closing hedge clippers on the way. Oh frabjous day, my luck just doubled! (I’d accidentally incinerated my son’s precision clippers last year and had been keeping an eye out for those as well).
Back home, I began the pampering process that follows the purchase of any tool of mine – primping with sand paper (the hickory handle curves just right and has a jaunty air), oiling with boiled linseed, wire brushing the blade (rubbing oil into the ‘iron mark’ so that I could read ‘pampa’ and see the ostrich stamped into the metal), then re-honing the edge of the blade with an angle grinder (Adam did that. I’m a hand-file-only kind of workshop guy), then out into the orchard to test it out. The beautiful thing exceeded all of my expectations. It cut a swathe through the weeds (actually cow parsley and alexanders, but for the moment they were weeds that had to be removed) and felt like a natural extension to my arms. I took great care not to sever my feet with the newly sharpened blade and thought about the great cultivations that ‘adzey’ and I might perform in the years ahead. Is it a male thing, this adoration of tools? I think so and I’m all for it.