Every so often, I find myself trying to explain why I write a gardening blog in my spare time. Why did I start F&F? As it’s coming up to a year since I launched this site, I thought I’d flesh out my answer a little.

It was when I bought a house with a garden two years ago that I realised I was a little different to a lot of other 21 year olds. Most of my friends thought growing vegetables and plants was the preserve of aged men on allotments, and mocked me accordingly. My extended family repeatedly asked me how on earth I knew what a witch hazel was. I was baffled: I’ve grown up loving gardening, and I couldn’t understand why this was any different to having a passion for games involving men throwing themselves around a muddy field or singing ‘Wonderwall’ tunelessly at an open mic night.

But I did have a pretty good idea why many of my peers felt alienated by the gardening world. Mugs with ‘head gardener’ written on them? Pastel-clad garden centres with ’spirit of the panpipes’ CDs playing? It wasn’t just that: there seemed to be some ridiculous notion that gardening begins at 30, when you’re settling down with a family and becoming all wholesome and grown-up. I don’t scorn anyone who meets the above description, but that’s not me.

Gardening really isn’t very difficult to get into: it’s just the culture around it that’s scary, and yes, I’ve ranted about this before. The gardening world that I know isn’t like that caricature either, but that’s the one that pops into my friends’ eyes when they call me an old lady for saying I’m picky about the varieties of tulips I grow. So why not write a blog which ignores all those silly stereotypes and showcases the gardening world that I, aged 23, know and (mostly) love?

And when I accepted my dream job in London, which meant I would be commuting for two and a half hours each day, I became even more passionate about writing this blog. After all, I had plenty of time to do so on the train on the way home, and I wanted to inspire graduates who, like me, loved the busy jobs they did, but didn’t have endless time to gaze at their gardens. Whenever I get a message from someone thanking me for explaining how to grow organic pumpkins, I realise that writing this blog in a carriage next to a snoring banker is worth it.

So there are no trugs or cheesy slogans on this blog. And even though I’m an organic, sustainable gardener, I’d hate to ever preach at F&F readers. I’m not writing because I’m after a book deal, or a job as a gardener, although there are some incredibly beautiful and fun blogs written by people who want those two things. In fact, I can’t imagine doing any other job than the one I do at the moment, which I am so incredibly lucky to have.

I write this blog to inspire, not to guilt-trip. It’s pretty easy - I just write about what excites me as a young gardener, and if every so often a couple of girls pick up some pepper seeds at the end of a long day at the office, then I’ll keep at it.

I have a confession to make. I am not enjoying running the gardening club as much as usual. Usually, I’m well aware of reasons I may be feeling generally miserable, even if it takes a few days, but this time? This time I’ve drawn a blank.

It ’s a puzzle because I’ve absolutely loved the club. Obviously I wouldn’t have started it if I didn’t. And the children are a joy; they’re hard working, enthusiastic. You should have seen and heard their delight when I told them the dead looking bush I was holding was in fact a blueberry bush!

So it’s not the children and it’s not gardening. Although the actual garden itself is quite frustrating to work in. It’s small and too close to an ancient and huge oak tree but it’s all we’ve got. A polytunnel? Greenhouse? Oh, how I dream.

Getting the children to remember to water the seedlings is always a problem and there are no handy windowsills on which to propagate our plants. I have in the past taken trays of compost and seeds home but that’s always quite fraught and has, on occasion, let to messy disaster.

This term there’s also been a higher than normal turnover in members which can dent your confidence somewhat. I worry that the jobs don’t get shared out equally, that quieter members might easily take a back seat. That the club isn’t fun. What to do about a new helper who isn’t terribly helpful. That I’m a rubbish leader. Yeah, I’m worrying a lot.

There’s also last year’s surprise attack on my methods and general running of the club from a totally unexpected quarter which has, I realise as I write, still rather taken the wind out of my sails. Actually, it’s done more than that, it’s damaged the boat and despite my frantic baling I fear it’s sinking.

But all is not lost! Tenacious by nature, I refuse to relegate my love for the club to the compost heap. I’m sure it’s there, buried quite deep, having had lots of manure piled on top. I just need to wait for the sun to shine a bit before it blooms once more.

There’s someone in my house who drinks a great deal of caffeine. During the week, that someone likes to drink instant coffee or mash his teabag in the mug before dashing off to work, but at the weekends, he enjoys filter coffee, strong and rich and fragrant. I like to pretend I am terribly virtuous by avoiding all caffeine, but I am grateful for Toby’s addiction as it provides me with a good kickstart for the compost heap.

You see, coffee grounds are nice and high in nitrogen, and as such perk the compost up and encourage the heap to get a move on and rot down into lovely rich soil. In fact, I’m so keen on a twice-yearly application of coffee grounds to the heap that I visit my local Costa every six months, where the smiling baristas hand me an enormous bin liner of the day’s spent grounds for free. They think I am completely mad, often trotting in on my way home from work in skirt and stilettos to pick up their waste, but it makes me terribly happy to re-use something in a way that makes such a difference to my garden.

I also spread these on my beds once a year, especially around the plants that like a bit of acidity such as roses. There’s a dual purpose to this: the grounds feed the plants, but they also deter my cat from using the veg patch as a toilet, as felines hate the smell of coffee.

Oh, and if you think I am holier-than-thou for refusing to drink caffeine, you should see me when I get too close to a bar of dark chocolate…

At this time of year, I find myself wedded to tiny, shy, blink-and-you’ll-miss-me plants. Ipheion uniflorum is one of those: so delicate and starry that you’d be forgiven for thinking it a bit of a wuss. But this member of the onion family is a tough little cookie, which makes me love it all the more.

The beautifully-scented flowers appear over a fat clump of leaves in spring, and are lovely in vases. They also spread quite happily: you’ll find a couple of bulbs produces enough impact within a couple of years to keep you happy.

Vital stats:
Location:
Well-drained soil
Light:
Happiest in full sun
When to plant:
October
What can I expect from this plant?
Height: 8in
Spread: 10in
Flowers: March

Click here to buy Ipheion uniflorum

This image is not what it seems. Take a closer look. These pleached hornbeams are not growing atop a trellis: they are growing on trunks woven together. This practice, dubbed ‘Treedome’ or ‘Arborsculpture’ by creators Konstantin Kirsch and Richard Reames, blends together living matter to create stunning and surreal plant sculptures. Richard Reames talks us through his practice of arborsculpture.

To grow an arborsculpture all one needs is a few young trees a plan and a place to plant them. For example an arch way where 2 trees are grafted together at the apex, is a simple form that creates an astounding entry to any garden. Once the trees have grown tall enough to reach each other when bent, they are grafted together by wounding the two trees where they touch and binding them together with stretch tape. The trees will grow together, then one leader is removed eventually creating one tree with two trunks.

I grew up in the Santa Cruz mountains of California, where as a child I visited the Tree Circus grown by Axel Erlandson. His work with trees inspired me try to pick up where he left off, when he died in 1964. Today his trees are the center pieces of Gilroy Gardens in Gilroy California.

After publishing my first book on the subject “How to Grow a Chair” in 1995 I was contacted by people from all over the world who were eager to share other examples of tree shaping. The oldest reference is a painting from 1516, I dicoverd a Chair in Wisconsin in 1919 and learned about a small handful of people scattered around the world practicing today.

In 2005 I published my second book Arborsculpture- Solutions for a Small Planet. The book is filled with the stories, interviews and “how to” information to help you get started in creating your own unique trees.

For more information, please visit Richard’s website.

Row 1: ‘Ashbrook’ from Dobies; ‘Nymans’ from Nicky’s Nursery; ‘Erika’ from Nicky’s Nursery; ‘Bijou’ from Mr Fothergill’s
Row 2: ‘Revolution’ from The Cook’s Garden; ‘Tom Thumb’ from Seeds of Change; ‘Dazzle’ from Unwins; ‘Lakeland’ from Thompson and Morgan
Row 3: ‘Frillice’ from Unwins; ‘Delicato’ from Mr Fothergill’s; ‘Multy’ from Thompson and Morgan; ‘Sioux’ from Mr Fothergill’s;
Row 4: ‘Red Salad Bowl’ from Mr Fothergill’s; ‘Hardy’ from Nicky’s Nursery; ‘Yugoslavian Red’ from Thompson and Morgan; ‘Red Romaine’ from Plants of Distinction.

Lettuces provide a rich palette for the potager. Planted in contrasting rows, they silence anyone who would claim the vegetable patch is a boring space hidden at the bottom of the garden. So before you make do with a packet of icebergs this year, take a look at our top ornamental lettuces.

I’ve always found slighty odd things exciting. And plant hormones are just one of those things. I genuinely do think auxins are quite cool. I’m not expecting anyone else to jump on this bandwagon, but you could at least pinch out your sweet peas once you’ve finished groaning at me. I sowed mine back at the start of February, and they are now about eight inches tall.

As I’m not planning to plant them out for a while, and because I want strong plants which produce plenty of beautiful flowers, I have pinched off the growing tip with my thumb and forefinger. This means the auxins (plant hormones - the things that make the plants grow) move from the main growing tip down to little side (auxiliary) tips. These tips then start to grow, giving you a bushier, and stronger, and altogether more cheerful sweet pea plant.

Patricia Fox’s modern take on the potager, ‘Freshly Prepped’, went down a storm at the RHS Chelsea Flower Show last year. The designer decided to create a kitchen garden (which was also a kitchen in a garden), where every single plant was edible. But that wasn’t enough - this isn’t just a working veg plot - it’s a hot veg plot, tuned to perfection using contrasting textures, colours and patterns.

This garden room makes the very best use of the tiny space available by growing not just in every nook and cranny, but also vertically. To do this, Patricia and her team at Aralia Garden Design had to re-think the way veg is grown.

Most of the crops in this garden are grown on a soil-less hydroponic green wall system. The wall took up a very tiny amount of space, which meant more room for entertaining in the garden. And watering was done via a pump, for ten minutes each day.

There are no straight rows of veg here, or any sign of freshly tilled soil. But if you look closely, the garden relies heavily on geometric designs and contrasts, which is a modern interpretation of the principles of the potager.

And once Patricia had run out of wall space, she decided that the only way was up, and so created an arching structure over the garden for growing climbing vegetables such as runner beans.

if you’re feeling inspired by Aralia’s work, skip over to their website.

My client wanted to combine her love of food and flowers in some arrangements for a wedding anniversary party. As the event was to be held on St. David’s Day, I chose to use a hand tie of Daffodils which were placed in a fishbowl vase.

Double-sided tape was used to attach several leaves taken from a savoy cabbage, disguising the container.

Image by Remy Erra.

Before I begin the wrap-up this week, I’ve had a request from top garden photographer Rachel Warne. She is looking for gardens that are a bit lost and in need of restoration to photograph. They might be grand, or they might be teeny-tiny little city gardens. If you know of any, email me - contact@fennelandfern.co.uk - and I’ll pass your emails on to Rachel.

{Weekly wrap-up}

Hot posts, stories and images from the web this week.

Another good debate on the Guardian Gardening Blog about this year’s series of Gardeners’ World. What did you think?

Fab, provocative piece on Garden Rant about why permaculture might not be the answer.

VP of Veg Plotting shares a visit to The Courts garden.

And while you’re here, don’t forget to enter the F&F Mother’s Day giveaway with Victoriana Nurseries.

If you’re reading F&F and have your own blog, please introduce yourself in the comments below. Or say hello by dropping us an email: contact@fennelandfern.co.uk