Judging by the weather forecast, the world is ending on Friday. The Mayans knew nothing; Derek (BBC Wales weatherman and living legend) knows everything.
So I took a quick tour around the garden before it disappears under snow and Antarctic research scientists, penguins and/or polar bears, covering all possible bases here (or poles at least), as the weather forecasters also appear to be doing. And I discovered that I still have vegetables…
I did not plant this chicory / endive / radicchio (I never know what to call these). I did, however, empty one of my spent troughs of salad leaves on this bed last spring. It’s the only explanation I can come up with for this mystery appearance, anyway. Unless my garden has been visited by the chicory / endive / radicchio fairy. It’s slightly frosted, but it’s fine.
And so is some of the leaf beet,
and looking remarkably good, considering that the ******* slugs ate the ******** lot earlier in the year. I can feel a stir-fry coming on, especially as I saw some spring onions trying to hide among all the weeds left in the main veg patch. I’ll have those, too.
I can even do mushrooms:
though I don’t think this is edible, mind. I can’t identify this bracket fungus, so suggestions, please. I’ve been out there with my Roger Phillips, and it doesn’t look like any of his images though that may be because it’s so young and fresh. It’s growing on one of my ashes, on the back half which died off for no very good reason a few years ago. The rest of the tree is fine, thanks – flourishing, in fact.
I’d better pick the chicory / whatever and the leaf beet tomorrow. The flowers that are coming up – snowdrops, primroses, daffs just showing their buds – will all cope in the freezing blast, but I’m not so sanguine about my surprise harvest. I’ll cope too, because we’ve been shifting logs into the greenhouse
to dry out, and a friend gave me an old bookcase, untreated pine, which will make great kindling. Well, what else am I going to use an unheated greenhouse for at this time of year, other than the storage of some geraniums which I can’t squeeze in the house? I’m operating on a ‘survival of the fittest’ basis here, and some plants do make it through. (The answer to the question, to explain the mess at the back, is also ‘the storage of unwashed sheep fleece stashed in old pillowcases’ but I do realise that this use of an unheated greenhouse is a little specialist. There is, however, no way on all the earth that unwashed fleeces are coming any closer to the house than this. Ergh.)
So I’m ready. Come on then, snow, do your worst.
Or maybe I’ll have called its bluff, and we won’t get any. Hmm.