Tuesday, 11 November 2008

MARTINMAS, JOHN CLARE

MARTINMAS.
Written by John Clare November 11th 1841.

Tis Martinmas from rig to rig
Ploughed fields and meadow lands are blea
In hedge and field each restless twig
Is dancing on the naked tree
Flags in the dykes are bleached and brown
Docks by its side are dry and dead
All but the ivy - boughs are brown
Upon each leaning dotterel's head

Crimsoned with awes the awthorns bend
O'er meadow - dykes and rising floods
The wild geese seek the reedy fen
And dark the storm comes o'er the woods
The crowds of lapwings load the air
With buzes of a thousand wings
There flocks of starnels too repair
When morning o'er the valley springs

Rig: ridge
blea: bleak
flags: reeds
dykes: ditches
docks: weeds(cf.burdocks)
dotterel: pollard tree
awes: hawes
awthorns: hawthorns
starnels: starlings.

Monday, 10 November 2008

GARDENERS CHRISTMASTIME, MISTLETOE AND TWINE















So the season is upon once more, where we look mournfully through Sarah Raven's Christmas book and wish we'd started preparing earlier. The Narcissi Paperwhites remain in their bags comme toujours, and in what seems like a flash, it will be too late to order presents from anywhere except Amazon. Sigh, what a lovely time it is. 

I spent a few happy minutes the other day perusing what they were chucking out half price at B&Q, though, and came up with some fab ideas for credit-crunch-appropriate presents for all my gardening friends. (Don't you love it when journalists do this? Its like, you've just given away what you're buying your wife! Don't you think she or anyone she knows might read this paper?

Firstly I spotted these great little novelty Bills and Bens, that's for Arabella Sock, as I know how much she loves that kind of thing. Plus I'm sure she'll be able to put some funny faces on them and make an entertainment both beauteous and tasteful for all of us here in in blogoland. 
















Next I was looking for something for Garden Monkey, and eventually I trumped even myself with this absolutely gorgeous Solar Fairy light. But it's not like some crappy old candle thing! It's a real light shaped like a fairy! Praying!* I think maybe American & Dutch readers of this blog should just stop reading now as I imagine they are probably feeling pretty jealous, and the feeling is only going to get worse as this featurette progresses. 

*it's also hand-painted! By Chinese orphans! 















The next relatively unique gift I was able to ferret from the depths of the B&Q gift bag is this fantastic Power Rock. I'm giving this to James, for he is the Rock upon which our blogsphere is founded. It looks just like a rock, but actually it's a plug socket into which you can plug all kinds of noise-making devices for the garden. (Perhaps a leaf-blower, hedge-trimmer, or even that natty i-phone James is always bragging about!) How much more could you actually want, nay receive, in a gift? 

There's two more special people who deserve a christmas gift from the Baklava. (Actually, there are three, because there's also Alex, but unfortunately shed-related gifts were at a surprising ebb during my visit and I'll have to get something for him another day.)

In the meantime, I bought this probably very ecological spaghnum moss for Britain's Greenest Horticultural Sexpot, Matthew Wilson : there you go Mateus, you don't have to have dull old plantings to be green...
















and this for VP, because I've seen inside her car! 
(Er, casteth not the mote from the eye of your neighbour, etc. Ed.)















Well anyway, there we go, I think I've got all those presents pretty much sorted! Phew, now I can sit down with a nice mince pie and relax. 

Although I am still on the lookout for a) a little froggie sitting on a lily pad, fishing with a fishing rod, for Victoria's pond, and b) a lovely little calendar of probably something like "the Funny Things Dogs Say" for Yolanda. 

Thursday, 6 November 2008

I GOT NO BRAINS TO WRITE NO MO'














I was intrigued to see that Garden Monkey had signed up to Sarah Salway's November writing program. There is marathon writing in the air during November with National Novel Writing Month now also under way, as well as NaBloPoMo which I think is about committing to blogging daily for a month. 

I have started NaNoWriMo three years in a row now and every year I just lose steam and stop. This year I am determined in a steely, Obama-type way, to get to the end. The purpose of the exercise is to get to 50,000 words, but I think secretly I'd happily just get to "The End", as in, something where the story reaches some sort of resolution. 

The two people I've tried to explain it to so far have both responded "So you write just like what, whatever? It doesn't have to be any good?" Yes, my friends, exactly. The purpose of the exercise is to get you to stop being so critical about your own writing and just get on with doing it. So far I'm doing okay. 

Anyway there we go. Another project sapping my good blogging energies, not to mention the common cold, the book proposals and the new asparagus beds. Sheeeeesshshh.

But listen - as I know there are a few readers of this blog who a) like writing and b) do sometimes maybe a teeny weeny bit put it off, you have to try a Berilliant discovery I have made from fellow NaNoWriMo-ers. It's Doctor Wicked's Writing Lab. If you stop writing for too long... it will punish you... Click here to see how...

Monday, 3 November 2008

BUNNY BUSINESS




















After so many years of being pretty much a gardening guru to you all, I've decided to set down my idea of eleven ways that you can become a better gardener, so you can become like maybe a bit more like me. (This has nothing whatsoever to do with the fact that mine and your favourite gardening work-out expert Bunny Guinness is in the Telegraph today telling us Twenty Ways to Be a Better Gardener. She copied me and I am in fact sueing her later.)




1. Don't leave the bulbs in the packet again.
I don't know how many times I have to tell you! Naughty, naughty.

2. Actually go and put all that garden waste on the compost heap.
Honestly, having a big pile of stagnating stuff in your kitchen is, apart from anything else, disgusting.

3. Go to other lovely gardens to see how they do it.
Remember to take the handbag-sized secateurs with you, though, ha ha.

4. When choosing a hedge, choose something really thorny so that the neighbours get eye injuries if they try to be nosy.
Serve them right, frankly.

5. If you see a big pile of honey fungus growing in your front garden, don't just leave it, dig it up there and then.
Rotten honey fungus is really yurck. It looks like the devil's nose mucus.

6. The Wisteria.
Look if I've told you once, I've told you a million times: it won't flower if you don't prune it. It's not rocket science!

7. If there's nature living in your garden, get rid of it!
Oooh, nasty, spiders give me the shivers. Pour some boiling water on it, I learnt that trick from my cousin who is president of Uzbehkistan.

8. If you don't have room in your potager for all the vegetables you want to grow, take over the garden of one of the staff.
This is a simple trick I learned from my aunt (god rest her soul). Simply write a letter giving the member of staff notice, and then within the month take over their garden, for increased vegetable-growing capacity without pain.

9. A lack of colour in the winter garden is easily remedied.
Send out a plant-collecting expedition to the Himalayas or China where they have many plants highly suitable to growing in English climates, but with lovely colours. And if you fund the expedition, you will have the commercial rights to exploit everything they discover!

10. Feeling cold? Do some star jumps!
It's easy to feel a bit chilly in the garden in winter, but there's no better cure for that than doing a few star jumps. As long as you make sure you have good posture before starting and warm up and cool-down properly. See my former close friend Bunny's book for details.

11. If you see weasels, shoot them.
That's what my father used to say anyway.


That's all for now. Bye! 

Friday, 31 October 2008

THE TRUE BEAUTY OF SISTERLY LOVE

In more irrelevant news passing through the Baklava front desk this morning, some hedge-funded ladies reveal just how they balance up monetary concerns with deeper more long-lasting values like family. 

"She COPIED ME!": I seem to remember last having that argument with my sister, hmmm, when I was about seven. Luckily the American courts saw fit to try this case as a serious legal matter, rather than yelling "Well you can both go to your room until you sort this out, because I'm sick of both of you." 

Wednesday, 29 October 2008

GARDEN MONKEY HAS ONE OF THESE FOR PETER SEABROOK

I know this isn't about gardening, but it's the best piece of scientific research I've read about ALL year! 

Tuesday, 28 October 2008

THE WAY OF THE SWORD



















Introducing Celebrity Samurai Guest Blogger, Frank Ronin




Why hello regular Baklava readers, I'm going to be standing in for a few days as Emma is a little bit too can't-be-arsed.

Sometimes I find myself standing, silent, in the garden, I do, saying to myself "Frank, what on earth is that swishing noise?". Turns out of course it's the sound of a samurai sword, gently, tumblingly, making its way through the artichoke patch. 

Gardeners often talk about their preference for certain tools, but I can assure you a samurai sword is like having Felcos, long-handled pruners and a Flymo rolled into one. There's simply no substitute. 

But it's not easy to learn to use the samurai sword in the garden. It's a subtle weapon, and must be used with great thought. Mastering it means applying yourself to the ultimate discipline: the way of the warrior. You must transcend your own limitations. Only then is the circle completed. 

I probably most of all recommend it this time of year for a spot of hacking back the yew hedge. This is a job which must be done, of course, as autumn presses ever onward. I can also use it skilfully to carve a suitable tulip-sized hole, then toss a bulb in from the clever Japanese-style storage on my back, obviating the need to bend down. 

And if anyone's gardening opinions ever really annoy me, I can just hack them to bits and bury them under a new patio or other outdoor seating area. Say, if someone were to repeatedly go on, and on, and on about how much they didn't understand why anyone read my column? Oopsidaisy, swish slash and there you go. 

Anyway I'll be back again soon with more of my winsome gardening thoughts. Ta-ra!