Beeting the heat

Full summer has arrived. It’s been hot - 30°C - and we’re soaking it up. After a dry spring, the grass around the garden is crisp and pale, but the beds are booming and the flower garden is a riot of colour. A good downpour in early June helped, and thankfully, we’re on mains water, unlike many of the farmers nearby. Warm-weather crops are thriving, especially in the polytunnel where we’ve created a little slice of paradise for them. It's hard work, but July is pure joy in the garden.

Watering is crucial now, but it’s not about drenching everything - timing and precision play a part, and each plant has its own rhythm. Alliums, celeriac, beans and beetroot are tough and tolerate dry spells, but salads and anything bearing fruit need regular water. I’m often out there poking a finger in the soil to check. There’s no point watering for the sake of it, and missing a potted plant can be fatal.

June was full-on, mostly thanks to the new potato harvest. We grow a lot: they’re easy, generous, pest-resistant, and, above all, delicious. Chefs rave about them; the flavour comes down to their freshness and the fact that they’re grown organically.

So, when do you harvest them? It's totally up to you. If all the leaves are still green, even if you have not seen flowers, you can pull them for a harvest of small potatoes with a sweeter taste. Leave them two weeks and the harvest will be much bigger, with a more average flavour but still good. I prefer smaller in size, like pearls of the soil. Either way, cook them simply: boiled in salted water, then tossed in butter and chopped mint. Perfect.

Carrots have always been the crop that has been the most troublesome for me, but I think I have cracked it. The seeds need to be kept moist throughout their germination period, which lasts at least 10 days. One dry day and germination can fail. Which would explain the very varied results I got from spring-sown carrots. But my carefully watered June sowings have come up beautifully - I’m hopeful for a solid autumn crop.

Aphids have been relentless this year. The dry heat speeds up their life cycle and stresses plants, making them easy targets. My early brassicas - red cabbage and sprouts - took a hit. I’ve been blasting aphids off with a hose, but the real heroes have been the ladybirds and hoverflies that showed up mid-June and started hoovering them up. Next year, I’ll sow those brassicas later to dodge the worst of it.

By July, things feel more under control. The chefs have a solid list to order from: beetroot, new potatoes, cabbage, salad, soft fruit, herbs, and now, the first of the tomatoes, aubergines, and cucumbers. French and runner beans are on their way too. I went big on beetroot this year, and it’s paying off -giant bulbs, a sure sign the soil’s in good shape. I've cleared beds that hold ones of good size and will store them so I can replant the bed with a different crop to keep up productivity.

The berry season’s been brilliant too. Strawberries gave us four weeks of small but juicy red fruit before clocking off at the end of June, but early blackberries, summer raspberries, and redcurrants have picked up the baton.

Sowing slows a bit this month, but it doesn’t stop. Salads continue in succession—always in high demand, bitter leaves like radicchio can be sown now. Brassica salads like rocket are best saved for early August when the flea beetles calm down. I’m also sowing a last batch of cavolo nero now, another chef's favourite. Florence fennel and winter radish will be sown by the end of the month. A summer sowing of fennel did not pay off as the dry heat forced it to bolt early, giving a minuscule harvest. Always a lesson to be learned in the garden.

About our first-ever garden gathering in the river garden. Glorious weather, great company, and food that sang of the garden: pork belly skewers with fennel jam, gem lettuce with smoked spring onion ranch, berries and cream, were my highlights. I can’t wait for the next one

Once in a while, one’s garden has a ‘moment’, a brief period of time when everything comes together to create a picture-perfect scene and an exhilarating feeling. They can be planned but never guaranteed. July holds these moments. I hope one finds you, whether in your garden or in ours..