The Love of Lavender

Lavender is in bloom and on several farms around here, there are fields covered with mounded rows of purple and mauve. It's a wonderful sight and if we only had the sunshine and warmth that July should bring, the air would be redolent with the  soothing perfume of lavender.

As a child, I loved helping to make lavender sachets to store amongst the linen. I doubt I was a great deal of help as my main aim was to handle the dried flowers as much as possible so that the scent would linger on my hands. Back then I had no idea that such places as lavender farms existed or I am sure that I would have harboured the ambition to have one when I grew up. Since that clearly didn't happen hasn't happened yet, I 'll just make do with visiting the ones around here. With that in mind, last week I arranged to catch up with a friend at Long Barn during their Lavender Week. We sat and had coffee on the terrace over looking the nursery field.

 

We had also ordered lavender shortbread. The heart shaped biscuits came elegantly garnished with sprigs of fresh lavender and looked so tempting and  tasted so delicious that I have to confess that we had eaten them before I thought to take a picture. ( Yes, I know that's the second time that has happened recently; note to self "Photos first, feed later") Even with the threatening skies and the all too inevitable downpour it was a fascinating place to spend a morning.

A perfect reminder of the recipe on  the wonderful Millefeuilles blog and a good excuse to try it. Ever since I had seen a recipe for shortbread buttons in the May issue of Country Living magazine I had promised myself that the next time  I made shortbread biscuits, they would be button shaped. So here, I present 2 ideas brought together.

Lavender Shortbread Buttons

Such a success! You can find Stephanie's recipe here in the post Pomona and the Poet's Rose. I used about half a teaspoonful of lavender flowers and for me, that was just the right amount. Not enough to overwhelm but it is still discernible. I used a 5cm cutter and then used a small glass to press halfway through to create the rims of the buttons. I used a skewer to create the holes and in some cases had to re-open these after cooking. Easy enough to do while they are still hot and fairly soft before transferring them to a rack to cool and crisp up. Should the thought of eating flowers trigger a shudder response instead of salivating, then substitute grated lemon zest for the lavender. 

You may well notice no sign of the apricot coulis  Stephanie made and I just know it would work so well as  an accompaniment for  these biscuits. Last December I had the  sublime good fortune to eat apricots fresh from the tree in my brother and sister-in-law's garden. Since then I have sworn never to have anything to do with fresh apricots unless I am within 2 km of the tree on which they were sun-ripened. The supermarket ones here have very little in common with what apricots should be. Hence no apricot coulis but the shortbread are also extremely good just as they are. 

Although I don't have a plot extending to acres and I suspect our heavy clay here isn't just what lavender thrives in, it's obvious that the half a dozen or so lavender bushes we have are simply not enough. Just as well that on Gardeners' World last night, Monty Don pointed out that now is a good time to be taking cuttings. May be I should be out taking some just in case I need a lot more plants sometime soon.

Eyes on the competition

"There's some as big as marbles,  there's some as big as peas and then there's quite a lot of little ones."

Pop.

This quote is from a newspaper cartoon showing a pair of old men hanging over the garden fence and comparing their potato crops. According to my mother, the cartoon greatly amused my grandfather and so the quote has been handed down two generations now. It always springs to mind this time of year when our annual charity Potato Growing Competition comes around.

The rules are simple enough. You buy a seed potato for £1 back in early spring. You can only submit the crop of the special seed potatoes; no cheating with a heavier cropping variety. This year it was a variety called Casablanca. (Yes, that is very expensive for one seed potato but it is a charity fund-raiser.) 

You then have to grow the potato in a re-cycled container of your choosing - I usually use an old compost bag as it will exclude enough light to keep the potatoes from turning green. What soil compost or other growing medium and fertiliser you choose is up to you. Then on the day of the charity garden party you dig up all the potatoes from the plant and submit them for judging. There are various categories but of course the overall winner is the grower who has produced the heaviest crop. 

Now the most of  competitors are well acquainted. We arrange various other fund-raising events throughout the year and several of us have been involved with planning the garden party at which this competition is just one of a range of stalls and events.  Ever since the sale of the seed potatoes back in the spring there have been several committee meetings and over coffee afterwards there will be cautious probing and airy throw-away remarks about the amount of leaf growth and the emergence or not of flowers and whether these should be left on or nipped off. On the surface of it, the rivalry is all very cheerful and any claims to potato-growing prowess are all very modest, unless you closely observe the spouses of the competitors. There may be the merest flinch of an eyebrow or a barely perceptible shaking of the head.  Behind garden gates it is a different matter apparently. Eyes narrow in steely determination as the sights are set way beyond simply taking part and padding out the numbers, oh no. Nothing less than winning is intended. There are those of Irish stock  who feel that  the honour of their national heritage is at stake and those who have grown spuds for years who feel their experience and hard work should clearly count for something.  Happily I am not constrained by either of these.

Having spent the day before baking cakes for the afternoon tea and the morning helping set up the stalls, pricing preserves and plants, it was only when the  potato competition stall was set up next to mine that I remembered that I had an entry to present.  After dashing home for a quick bite of lunch, some scissors and more sticky labels, I went out and opened the recycled compost bag. I find harvesting potatoes is always something of a treasure hunt or a bran tub where you are allowed to find all the prizes. Unlike other fruit and veg, it is not the part you want that you get to see growing before your eyes. The real booty of the process is all growing  hidden from view, deep in the dark compost - or not, as the case may be. 

I was delighted and quite relieved therefore, to find several largish fist sized new potatoes as well as the inevitable tiny pearl sized ones. I suspected I already had my hands on the only prize I was going to get but that was more than good enough. Having seen the amount of slug munching the foliage had suffered I was glad to see all the tubers were smooth and free of any blemishes.

Creditable entry though mine was, I was right about the crop itself being my only prize. It was wonderful to see that one of the runners up was a girl aged about eight years old. When the judge, a local allotment holder, called her name she strode forward in true school assembly fashion, shook him by the hand, exchanged a few details on spud cultivation then received her certificate. She turned holding the certificate under her chin, print side facing outward and beamed at the audience, before  delightedly accepting her prize of a bright red tub trug. No feigned surprise, no diffidently waiting to be coaxed forward.  Now there, I thought, is someone who knows how to receive an award.
In spite of dismal weather the party had been well attended so having packed up, we finished the afternoon united in the euphoria of a job well done, appreciative of all the teamwork that raised an impressive sum for the clinic in Ethiopia. All headed home (possibly to spud suppers) the best of friends, at least until the announcement that the seed potatoes are on sale for next year's competition.

Hapa-Zome - giving it a bash

And when you're in a Slump, you're not in for much fun.
Un-slumping  yourself is not easily done.

Dr Seuss.

I found myself thinking of this gem of Seuss wisdom this morning.  Is it something to do with the time of year? The first flush of summer is past and the garden seems to be more work than pleasure; all dead-heading, weeding and very little harvesting - scarcely a handful of loganberries.  Sometimes, I figure, you have to "just do the work". After taking a long walk in the garden, pushing the mower, I thought that I would see if using the camera to "harvest" some shots would help to dispel the mental lethargy. It worked - the particular flowers and leaves that caught my eye reminded me of pressing flowers and from there it was a short leap to remembering watching Alys Fowler trying the craft of hapa-zome a way of creating leaf and flower prints using their own pigments by hammering them. I gathered some leaves and flowers to try it myself.

To make a start, I gathered together:
A hammer - oh yes, this would be fun
A thick board
Some  natural fibre fabric - unbleached calico 100% cotton.
Some thick card
The flowers and leaves

The basic technique is very easy. Simply spread the cloth over the board, lay the flowers and leaves on the fabric, cover with the card and hammer over it all. When you feel that you have  thoroughly bashed over all the vegetation, carefully lift away the card and see what has happened. Prepare to be delighted. Even on the first try, I was intrigued with how much of the pigment was transferred by this simple activity. I had tried making plant dyes with some successful results but nothing as instant as this.

It is such a revelation but there are some things I learned along the way. Some so obvious that I needed to have another go immediately.

1. Choose fairly thin petals and leaves. Thicker ones tend to have a lot of sap or juice which dilutes the pigment. 
2. Cut away any parts on the back of the flowers that are not going to imprint. (See below) These only bring a vaguely green squish to the end results.Not good.
3. Make sure you hammer evenly all over the leaves and petals. It will help to have something see through to hammer over. Although I did get a second imprint on the card as well I think I would be prepared to sacrifice that for a good image on the fabric. 
4. As far as possible try not to let the leaves and petals move during the process - so trim off any stems or stalks that stick up as this can make them move a little when they are hit and also keep peeking to check on progress to the absolute minimum. I was amazed at the lovely crisp outlines you can get if everything stays in one place.
5. Make sure all the plant material is absolutely dry.
6. Try putting the leaves with pronounced veins with the backs closest to the fabric. The purple sage leaves I used worked best this way as the veins gave them texture. The centre one was upper side down and that just came out as a splodge.

Some things change colour a little too - understandably the plant materials emerge bruised by the process and I found some of the pink flowers showed it and were more mauve than the original. The blue star shaped campanula was a great success and came up with crisp edges. As did the little yellow weed flowers. I don't know the name of this plant - I think it is some kind of potentilla - but I have a different name for it entirely (a name I am not prepared to put into print)  when I am trying to eradicate its thuggish invasion of almost every bed and border. I did notice the other day as I managed to dig up some of the long tap roots that they are a conspicuous red and might yield an interesting dye.

So another day another try, this time using flowers and leaves from herb robert. Yes, it is something of a weed here but it does have exquisitely shaped leaves which turn red. And the little pink  flowers are pretty. I trimmed back the tube behind the petals and of course this makes all the petals fall apart so it is a good idea to set the flowers in place before cutting the tube away - my botanical knowledge falls way short of knowing what this part of the flower is properly called. I found a pair of tweezers came in handy to rearrange the tiny petals.

This time I used a layer of greaseproof paper underneath the card so that I could lift the card off without disturbing the leaves. I found that I could also hammer on the greaseproof paper without the card.

Good results I thought - funny how the red leaves worked well but the green ones were a waste really.
My mind is starting to buzz now with ideas for using the prints and for experimenting with other plants and other fabrics. There is further blog inspiration for this technique here and here.
Go on, give it a bash - pun most decidedly intended! I am sure Dr Seuss would have approved of  it as a strategy for un-slumping.

A Box of Mints

Even when the weather warms up, I usually like to have a hot drink at some point in the day. The perfect light and refreshing alternative to  a caffeine loaded 'cuppa' is mint tea, preferably made with fresh herbs. Having a planter full of mint by the back door acts as a growing tea caddy - and also stops the mint plants turning into invasive thugs and running rampant through everything else.

This all began with clearing out a shed, one of those places where things that "might come in handy some day" get to congregate and settle into rusty retirement along with various bits that didn't warrant a run to the tip in their own right. I came out to review progress just as HeWhoWasLoadingTheBoot ready for the tip run had picked up an old bicycle basket. I doubt either of us can even recall how long it is since anyone living here has owned a bike but I found myself saying "Ah, hang on a minute." I quickly popped some plant pots in it to stake my claim and we finished packing up and taking a car load to the local recycling centre.

 

By the time I got back to look at what I had salvaged, my imagination had taken off completely. I was thinking it would hold a wonderful collection of flourishing herbs each with its own stylish label, may be like these made from old spoons. Of course the pots would have to be tall and narrow; terracotta naturally. Long Toms would do perfectly. Ideally the pots would have 'vintage character' - a tracery of leached lime or a green patina of moss. I could even achieve either of these effects with a little time and trickery and some help from the internet. Then the mist lifted and reality drifted back into focus. All of that would mean postponing the project and leaving stuff lying about again and that was counter to the spirit of the afternoon. And after all this was hardly some unique wire basket picked up from a brocante stall in a French flea market - clearly I spend too much time on the internet and browsing the gift sections of upmarket garden centres. Let's be practical, resourceful and set to work with what is already close at hand. Line the basket and plant directly into it. 

With that in mind, I raided the potting shed for weed suppressant membrane and raked the shadiest patch of the lawn for some moss and set to work.

Using weed suppressant membrane to line the basket seemed a good idea as it will allow excessive moisture through but hold the compost in. I tackled it in much the same way as I would line a loaf tin with baking parchment. I measured out a rectangle by wrapping the membrane down one side, across the base and up the other side and repeating that from front to back. Having cut that out, I then cut in from each corner of  the rectangle to the corner of the base. This allowed some overlap at the corners. I cut out the very top of each corner as those corners just curl in and get in the way. 

To keep the lining in place I used twist ties threaded through the overlapping layers in the corners and around the basket uprights in each corner. If I had had some pieces of polystyrene I would have put a layer of them in the bottom for drainage and that would have been a good idea if I was going to plant herbs like sage, thyme and oregano but mint is quite happy with moisture around the roots so sharp drainage isn't crucial. 

 I filled the basket with a mixutre of multi-purpose compost, sifted garden compost made in our garden and also I added a couple of trowelfuls of ash and charcoal from where we had our last bonfire. Now black membrane doesn't look all that special - considering the dreamy ambitions I had for this project earlier on. So at this point I tucked moss between the wire of the basket and the membrane lining. 

I found that I had several varieties of mint in various little pots and thought they would make a good collection for this basket. 

Morrocan mint - ideal for mint tea but also good for cooking.

Lime mint - this adds a citrussy kick to the mint flavour.

Corsican mint - this is a tiny leaved mint with a creeping habit but no diminuition of the lovely mint fragrance

Peppermint - makes a lovely tea to settle an upset stomach

Eau-de-cologne mint - another lovely tea, this time for those times when your head feels muzzy and a headache seems imminent.

Culinary mint - this was the remnants of a pot of mint I had bought in the supermarket after the the frosts had sent the mint in the garden into hibernation. ( I had forgotten to pot some up for the kitchen windowsill in early autumn.)

So all of these plants went into the basket and then I simply had to water and wait - skills  all gardeners have to practise often.

Weeks later and the plants seem to be very happy with their new quarters - as shown at the top of this post.

 My favourite bit? The way that the Corsican mint has settled into the understorey below the others and has crept out down the side to colonise the moss. It even has enchanting tiny mauve flowers.

 

The old bicycle basket has all but disappeared now (and when I come to replant it in the future I will wirebrush it to remove the last bits of decrepit plastic) but the mint seems very happy and I am happy to have it by the back door, handy to nip off a few sprigs for tea.