Lettuce Begin Again..

As we head into our fifth summer, things are, dare I say it, aligning rather nicely. Most days are spent filling the beds with transplants from our early spring sowings. It’s one of the busiest and most exciting times of the year. Changes are happening so swiftly now, I'm always excited to see what’s happened after a day away. 

With all the activity, there is not a huge amount going to the kitchen in May. Overwintered broccoli and spring greens have finally cleared out, and the focus has shifted fully onto the new season crops. February-sown salads and spinach have come on strong and already given us a couple of big harvests by simply picking the outer leaves and letting the plants carry on growing. Baby turnips, radish and spring onions make up the spring staples. Established herbs like tarragon, thyme, sage and chives are also great this time of year.

This spring has done what spring does best - kept us guessing. It teases with warm sunny days, then follows with freezing nights. April hit the high teens in the daytime before dropping below zero overnight on a few occasions. This shift is brutally difficult for young plants making the jump from the comfort of the polytunnel into the great outdoors. 

Horticultural fleece becomes worth its weight in gold in times like these. For much of April, the garden looked like it had been draped in white sheets. It only adds a few degrees around the plants, but those few degrees can make all the difference between a plant sulking or surviving. The fleece has mostly come off now as the temperatures finally seem to be settling. Hopefully.

One crop that doesn’t ask for much once established is asparagus, which is fortunate considering how prized it is. Ours are now in their third year here, and this recent warm spell brought on a flood of thick spears that could be picked daily. Leave them too long, and suddenly they look more like small trees than dinner. Asparagus beetles are appearing, too, but regular harvesting keeps them in check. Spot them, squash them, move on.

Inside the polytunnel, it’s organised chaos. As soon as one crop finishes, another goes straight in - a bit like plant Tetris. Spring onions, pak choi and Florence fennel are replacing winter salads while tomatoes, aubergines and cucumbers wait impatiently for their turn to take over. By the end of May, the tunnel will properly belong to the summer crops. I’d normally use fleece in the tunnel too for the tomatoes, but the garlic running down the middle of each bed is too tall for covers to fit over. So instead, it’s the daily routine of doors shut at night, doors open in the morning whenever possible.

Growing from seed remains an equal mix of joy and frustration. Sometimes old seed refuses to germinate, sometimes seed companies send out duds, and sometimes it’s entirely the grower’s fault. This year, I’m blaming failures on a very soggy batch of potting mix for poor germination in things like beetroot and salads. Cucumbers and melons especially hated it. After mixing in more perlite to improve drainage, things have picked up again. Seeds don’t want to sit cold and wet - neither do gardeners, to be fair.

Our average last frost date is around the 10th of May, which makes early May prime time for sowing squash, pumpkins, summer beans and cucumbers. At the same time, attention already starts drifting towards autumn/winter again, with cabbages, Brussels sprouts and kale all being sown now for the colder months ahead. You’re always planning one season ahead while trying to keep up with the current one.

And finally, the garden now has five new residents - our ducks. They live in their own fenced corner of the river garden with a little hut beside the beds and spend most of the day waddling about, quakking away to themselves. They lay excellent eggs which, conveniently, go very well with asparagus. On quieter days, they also make surprisingly good company.

June also sees the return of our garden gathering dinners. Long evenings by the river, cooking food straight from the garden and sharing it around the table in the early evening warmth. After months of mud, fleece and seed trays balanced everywhere, it feels like the reward at the end of it all.