Deep Winter has been about planning, anything planted out has had a miserable stunted look to it, a bitter reminder that I should have planned my planting earlier when the weather was still sweet. There are still some sorry looking tomatoes and capsicums clinging to their withering stems, the eggplant lingered long enough to shelter a brood of ladybird larvae until they grew wings flew away home, and it curled itself up. A better time for dreaming about gardening than actually doing it.
One rainy day I logged into Google Analytics and noticed my post on the 4 Year Crop Rotation gets at least one view a day, often more. It gave me a delicious thought, would you dear reader like to walk through a year in my plot?
A week by week plan of how the rotation actually works?
Since November the garden has been busy settling in to its new digs, Legumes have been occupying my plot, taking nitrogen from the air and enriching the soil for a new year of Solanaceae.
So come on a journey with me a beautiful year of growing juicy tomatoes, chillies, capsicums and eggplants!
In Australia where the sun runs screaming past plentiful and sprints headlong into harsh, bare earth is an absolute crime. Space is also at a minimum (1x2m) so a plan was absolutely necessary to cram as much in as possible. I’ve divided my plan into Solanaceae and Companions and this works beautifully as these fall neatly into the categories of
tall and low level plants and early and late planting. I read somewhere that tomatoes really shouldn’t be rushed into the ground until the temperature is reliably over 10C and according to the BOM this doesn’t occur until November in Melbourne. So while my Solanace seedlings wait to be planted out the companions will have the opportunity to
establish themselves as a nurse crop to shelter the young Solanace plants when they go in. When the weather grows spitefully hot, in Deep Summer, the tomatoes will have grown tall enough to shade their companions whilst they in turn protect the tomato roots from drying out.
SSitting up with a gasp at 4am we heard rain rocketing down on our tin roof as loud as gunfire and we rush outside to make sure our newly rendered garden beds didn’t bear any rain shaped bullet wounds. We were lucky, it had dried just in time.
With a backdrop of grey morning we began to set up the garden for the Edible Gardens Open Day. As the sky darkened Kelly from our local council and the volunteers from MINTI (the Flemington Transition Group) began to arrive with 50 fliers in hand to give out, 50 we laughed, perhaps 30 people will come to have a look. Between 10:30 and 4pm the skies cleared to a glorious blue day and over 200 people passed through our front gate!
It is quite surreal to see 80 people at a time crammed into our small garden, with a bemused sense of unreality we explained our design to the group. The overwhelming sense of good will they offered us with their smiles and eager questions was beautiful. After our rush to get our garden ready, which the bees resented giving us two stings the day before, it was delightful and relieving to see everyone having such a good time (and no stings!). Even the render stood up to being walked on by children and adults alike, being used as a motorway for toy trucks and as a springboard for gymnastic tricks (children only).
My uncarefully laid plans of showing the time-lapse of our garden to a small huddle of people was unrealistic, so I will share it with you here and hope you get as much a kick out of it as me. After the first few viewing I had way too much fun watching minor details like our sunflowers growing and dying and where the neighbours’ cat is going to show up next!
For a while the garden was inconsolable, having missed the spring flush it went into a right sulk, but with autumn here, not even the shyest runner bean has been able to resist unfurling for a sun bake. We have been in a mad flurry trying to get the garden into order for our open day in April. Through January and February beach weather demanded a lot of our attention, but now with the threat of judgmental strangers raising a questioning eyebrow at wilting vines and sorry spring remnants we have to get to the business of patching up the render and getting onto that damn earth oven!
Our raised earth bag garden beds are rendered like a patchwork quilt, marked by dozens of helpful hands. Little details are cheeky and drag on for months and months and what began as a fun excuse to revert back to early mud pie days took gritted teeth to finish (let’s not talk about the fact that this is only the scratch coat). It was such a relief to get some green back in the garden, bare earth is something I hope has been banished from our garden for good. Luckily we have agreed to show our garden as part of a permaculture open garden scheme for our local council in April, nothing lights a fire under you quite like the fear of public humiliation!