Ara’d Ground

Today is sunflowers and potatoes day.

Both planted (second early potatoes maybe a tad late), both first-time plants for me, and I really hope they both do well. But then, I don’t plant things hoping they won’t.

That said, after my initial success and glee with the tomato plants, I’ve had a bit of a reality check. The second sowing of the most successful two types of tomatoes from the first sowing haven’t bothered to germinate - not a one. The only difference this time was the tomato fertiliser in the soil, so I won’t be using that next time. Chillis aren’t too happy germinating either, and the ones that have done have been the ones that were stuck in the airing cupboard while I was away, so they’re a mite leggy. I think they can be salvaged.

The dark opal basil that came through with the first lot of tomatoes is still about the same size it was when it broke the surface. It does appear to be alive, just not doing much of anything.

Everything that I left in the greenhouse except the volunteer tomatoes has died, due to the watering mat not watering. I do seem to be getting some late-germinating garlic chives though though, so all’s not lost.

Carrots need pricking out, leggy chillis need transplanted, the calabrese I dropped doesn’t seem to have minded, and all is going as all tends to - with ups, downs, and in-betweens.

Now for the impatient waiting for sunflowers and potatoes…

I’m confused. The BBC reports “Early results indicate a good night for Tories, a lacklustre Labour show and a bad night for Lib Dems” yet to me, with Labour having its lowest percentage of the vote since almost ever, the swingometer suggesting that they’d come third in a general election for the first time since long before the Lib Dems were formed, that possibly, it may be slightly worse than a lacklustre night for them? Maybe a touch? Just a teensy wee bit? Perhaps? As for the Lib Dems, they do seem to be having a lacklustre night, but that’s generally what’s expected of them. Either the Beeb got the L-parties confused in their little blurb, or it’d be quite easy to start believing some of the more right-wing accusations that Auntie isn’t as unbiased as perhaps she should be…

Iain Dale - I generally don’t read his blog, he makes me want to punch things far too regularly, but he’s reporting tonight with some humour, and you get a real feeling from him that the atmosphere on the 9th floor of city hall is one of fun, comeradeship despite political differences, and banter. Just as an election night should be.

Luke Akehurst - On floor 9 with Iain and Alix, not that you’d know. Purely reporting results, worse than ticker-tape. Not worth the bother.

Alix Mortimer - the third and finest at City Hall, and the longest posts, with a bit more commentary than the others. Has a good attitude and a good sense of humour - the one I hit f5 on most frequently

Dizzy Thinks - grammatically bad, politically dubious at times, I stopped reading Dizzy a while ago - he wasn’t fact-or-spell-checking enough for my liking. He’s being vaguely humerous and informative, in ways not covered by the more party-affiliated bloggers mentioned above, tonight though. Also, he’s the only one with a picture of a sex-toy on his front page.

Blairwatch - not worth the bother. Seem a bit bitter they haven’t been invited to the party, add absolutely nothing to anything.

BBC At-a-glance - alright, not a blog, but very good for keeping an eye on the overall figures.

I love election night - and this one isn’t even mine.

The internet revolution has added yet another fantastic adrenaline-packed vein to the whole experience, with live blogs being kept by bloggers of all colours and none.

So far it seems like a bit of a Tory landslide. I have mixed feelings about this. Local politics is not national politics, but still - that’s a lot of tories.

What may be a very good thing about this though is that it may represent the kick in the arse that the left wing definitely need in order to get them to pull their finger out before the next general election, which they currently run a serious risk of losing to the Tories (if tonights swing and current political opinion are anything to go by).

I seem to recall that near the end of the long Tory rule of the 80s and early 90s, there was a similar Labour landslide in the locals, which sounded a very audible death knell for the ruling party of the time. This, in 2008, is a klaxon Labour can’t afford to ignore.

On the third hand, the Lib Dems seem to be doing their usual - not too badly, but not anywhere near well enough to challenge the two main parties. It’s a major coup that their Mayoral candidate was taken as seriously as a contender as he has been - much credit to Brain Paddick for that - he’s made it viable to vote Lib Dem, at least for one role, when so much of the party seems to be intent on infighting and dithering so much that they’re just not electable. May many other Lib Dems take his, and the other viable LD candidates in such notable places as Pembrokeshire, lead, and up the ante - give the two biggies a race against a new face - present a strong front and show them a solid, together party with solid, together policies.

Ahem. Side-tracked. Election-night fever. Tomorrow will be both worse and better. Fewer results, shouldn’t last so long - but far more personally important.

For tonight though, beer, blogging and a landslide that may be entirely necessary.

Since I’m away off on holiday for a week tomorrow, I figured I’d make a list of what plants I have in what conditions, so I have the hilarity of ticking off which ones have died while I’m away.

In pots I have:

1 Chilli plant, still going from last year. Happy chilli, won’t stop bloody flowering.
13 tomato plants that I’ve so far failed to kill, no matter how hard I try
4 “volunteer” tomato seedlings that came up from the ungerminating seeds I whacked out of the propagator ages ago.
Several calabrese in post
Several more calabrese in seed tray that I couldn’t be bothered pricking out
New tomatoes that got really leggy through germinating in the airing cupboard and me not noticing
sacrificed tomatoes that are back in the airing cupboard because the chillis in the same seed tray haven’t germinated
Many tiny cinnamon and lime basil seedlings
Many large leaf and dark opal basil seedlings
Ever increasing number of carrot seedlings
What looks like the beginnings of some onions
…and two egg-boxes of potatoes chitting happily away on windowsills.

I *think* that’s all, my apologies to any plantbabies I’ve missed.

I expect the list to be a lot shorter in just over a week.

G perches and surveys my land. Not all the grassed-over bit is mine - there’ll be another strip taken next to the cultivated bit. I hope they’ve at least marked their patch by the time I head up with spade to start digging mine, I can see potential boundary conflict occurring if I mark someone else’s patch.

In other news, I have all the calabrese seedlings in the world, and (just as well, they’re threatening leggyness already) a greenhouse with all the requisite panes of glass. I’m just about good to go, here.

I turned a corner today.

For the first time in my life, that I remember, I willingly cut my fingernails down as far as I could.

As a child, that was one of my most hated parts of the week - the Sunday ritual where the family would take turns to bathe, then, wrapped in towelling dressing gowns in front of a coal fire, we’d cut finger and toenails. When I was too young to do my own, I would wriggle, scream, and do everything I could to get out of it. When I was old enough to do them myself, I just stopped doing them. I’ve always, since I was of an age to make the decision for myself, had long nails.

I decided I didn’t want to learn to play guitar because I would have had to cut my nails (I hadn’t heard of The Cramps at that point). I learned to type with fingernails so long I had to hold my hands almost completely flat. I learned to do manual work with long nails, never complained when one broke (why bother? It’d grow back, and if I just kept them til they broke I never had to cut them), and painted intricate designs on them as a student. My nails have always been a part of me, moreso than dyed hair, moreso than the mohawk - as much a part of me as my height and eye colour.

And now they’re gone.

Already I’m noticing the weirdness -I go to scratch my back and I can’t. Typing feels very odd indeed. They look - well, my hands don’t look at all like my hands. It’s going to take some getting used to.

The benefits though - the reasons I cut them - they’re also starting to show. After planting many seeds this morning, I didn’t have to extricate great clumps of compost from under the mini-spades on the ends of my fingers. On assisting with the mammoth task of fixing the greenhouse, my fingertips were no longer in pain from nails bending backwards after careless movements. I don’t have long crescents stained brown from mud crowning every finger any more - sure, around the cuticle’s still a bit grubby, but at least the nail itself isn’t stained.

Now - now I feel like I’ve thrown off a shackle that I didn’t even realise was there. I’ve cast off part of my youth, broken an attachment that had subconsciously formed, and in a way, freed myself to grow away from the person with the long nails who I used to be. I never thought something so small could leave me feeling something so big.

Tune in next week when I learn to clean behind my ears, and find the Holy Grail.

I am a bad tomato-mother. Also basil (although I’m not convinced my tiny Dark Opal seedling’s actually *doing* anything).

Today I decided to put my seedlings out in the plastic mini-greenhouse I’ve had standing empty against the fence that gets sun all day for far too long. It was a lovely day, and it’d mean they’d get sun for far more of it than they do at the windowsill. A good plan, no?

Got them out there, noticed rain starting to spit, and retired inside to put pizza in the oven and catch up on a couple of messageboards while the April shower passed. On hearing something that sounded suspiciously like thunder, I looked out the window next to me and saw the tops of trees blowing furiously in a wind that seemed to have come out of nowhere. Not to worry, the mini-greenhouse was against a fence and had a big-ol’ lump of concrete in the bottom to stop it toppling. It had withstood the insane winds we got with the weekend snowfall, so I was sure it’d survive.

I’m sure you’ve guessed by now that it didn’t. I decided, when retrieving pizza from the oven, to check that it had, and saw the positively distressing sight of the greenhouse, face-down on the grass, pots and compost scattered everywhere inside.

I crawled inside from the open bottom and retrieved the poorly-looking seedlings, which G took back inside to their nice, safe, breeze-free windowsill, where I gave them a nice drink of plant food, and some encouraging words. Some may have interpreted said encouraging words as desperate pleas, but “encouraging words” is what I’m sticking with.

One fantastic thing I noticed - given the mental health issues, it would not be unheard of for me to have a bit of a mad at an incident like this, cry my eyes out, wail that everything I touch turns to shit (possibly “manure” would be more appropriate…) and wonder why I ever bother trying everything, that I’m always doomed to fail.

None of that. Nope, I was cool, calm and collected, gathered up my poor wee babyplants, and did what I could to set the situation right. I’m a bit proud of myself.

In other news, my legs are happily aching after what I feel was my first bit of proper gardening yesterday - I dug the veg-patch-formerly-known-as-sprawling-mass-of-weeds - every inch of it, apart from the bits that it turned out where actually great big lumps of concrete. Combined with the clay soil, guess what song I had sstuck in my head…

I need to fork in some compost, and am trying to decide whether to make a raised bed of it or not. The “good wood” that G’s been saving is all old split crap, so it’ll involve a bit of financial outlay, and I suspect I want to plant stuff before I’ll be able to afford it. Aaah, decisions decisions.

Now I must go downstairs and urge my tomatoes to live, and my second wave to germinate.

When I next went down to check on my tiny plants, two of them were looking very droopy and dead. It seemed water and words of encouragement weren’t enough.

Desperate times call for desperate measures, and I whipped out my Miracle Gro Controlled Release Plant Food Tablets, being the only form of plant food I currently have. I sliced one in half, popped half in the soil of each droopy plant, and in no time at all, they’d perked and were looking happy.

I rescued plants! Go me!

I found out (through a tiny amount of googling) that my seedlings are leggy because they’ve not been getting enough light. They were on a windowsill that got the morning light - now, in their pots, they’re catching the afternoon. Oh for a south-facing window! I’m not going to run any extra lighting for them - part of this growing kick’s about being a bit more active in an eco way, and running lights for the plants would probably cancel out all benefit of growing, rather than buying the tomatoes. I may try to get up earlier and move them during the day so they get direct sun for more of it.

In other related news, last night G took the glass out of half of the greenhouse, in preparation for moving it back to where it should be, fixing the terrible squint in the frame, and making it slug-tight and useable once more. We’re a couple of panes short for getting it actually fixed and functional, but getting it in the right place is a good start, I reckon.

I’m not entirely sure why they call it “green fingers” - mine are decidedly brown. Under the fingernails, around the cuticles - all a nice dark composty brown.

Yes, Ara’s been playing in dirt again.

My tomatoes kept on breaking through, and growing, until they got to the stage that I’ve seen described on forums as “leggy”. None of my gardening books explain this term, tell me why it’s bad (I assume it is from the way it’s mentioned, amid tones of mild despair), or what I can do about it. I could, of course, ask on said forums, but I get the feeling I am that annoying person who asks all the stupid questions that could be easily worked out by a bit of thought or trial-and-error.

Trial-and-error it is then!

The packet of tomato seeds that had instructions on said to transplant them (at some indeterminate time - can’t give too much information, that’d be cheating, or something) to 3″ pots. So, today, I found myself on my knees in the kitchen, poised over a rubbish sack, upon which were my big bag of compost, my propagator with my teeny seedlings in, and 12×3″pots.

I’ll skip the transplanting part, other than to note that when I initially planted, I didn’t press down the compost in the propagator firmly enough, so the “intact plug” that should have come out, plant, root and all, was usually a loose glob of compost with a root flopping out the bottom. I’ve been assured that tomato plants are sturdier than they look, and will put up with all kinds of conditions, so I’m not overly worried. If they last a day, I’ll be happy.

My White Wonders, so far, as the only tomato that has not produced seedlings. I’m not sure if they just don’t want to, or if they maybe have a longer germination period. My 12 transplanted seedlings consist of:

• 1 x Mr Stripey (not sure if it’s the US or UK variety - it’s an adventure!)
• 4 x Harbinger
• 3 x Red Beefsteak
• 1 x Golden Jubilee
• 3 x Gardener’s Delight (one is looking very unhappy in its new home. I’ve given it water and some words of encouragement, if that doesn’t work, sod it, I’ve plenty more. Okay, make that two.)

I also noticed the very beginnings of a seedling in the row of Dark Opal Basil I’ve planted - this makes me happy. Purple pesto beckons!