Garden under Virus

Had it been another time of war, I would have lifted the flagstones that almost cover our four paces by 16 pace London garden and turned it into an allotment. But at the present time of virus it will stay as it is. With this virus that no one seems to know much about, I might well have to make it more productive.
As the soil beneath the flagstones must be much the same as a 1' wide strip of soil up to one side that I first encountered 30 years ago, it would take even more compost from our excellent bin to get it into a condition that would grow anything at all. Thirty years ago this strip of soil was black and dead from absorbing years of coal-smoke-laden pollution. Now, thanks to our compost, it is light and friable. So I would have to work hard, possibly turning the recovered soil into a potato patch at first, to be able to use it productively.
As it is, I continue to grow flowers and trees in pots, some stacked high on occuloni and ironstone bricks once used to store heat, but culinarily unproductive.
On the north-facing wall, where a flowering quince is doing well in a space where a flagstone has been lifted, I have now planted shallots and garlic - in the hope that they will survive and grow without sunshine.
Some rocket that lasted the winter is our only green leaf vegetable. Its leaves are barely enough for a very small salad, but its simple four petalled flowers are a delight to the eye and insect life. For herbs we grow the flavourings of mint, rosemary and bay leaves to enhance the repertoire of our cooking.
Our lemon tree would not contribute much in a pandemic emergency, but the fruit, when harvested and freshly sliced, exude the most wonderful aroma and taste, and then become just an ordinary sliced lemon by the next day.
Above all, and of most importance to us, are runner beans. We make much of them as they climb up vertical bamboos and over a "roof" of the same material. I grow them from seed gathered the previous year in pots on the kitchen windowsill, and then plant them out when they are able to climb unaided.
We eat their large crop initially as 4" beans, only top and tailing them before giving them five minutes in boiling water. They are usually served with butter and garlic, and are a real treat.
Each year we purposefully miss picking some of the runners that would normally need stringing and chopping. We let them rip. As long pods containing large fat beans, we harvest them before they start to rot on the vine, and then dry them on racks in the kitchen. When crispy dry they are podded.
These dried beans are eaten in the winter after an overnight soak and 35 minutes in the pressure cooker. Eaten as a first course with, perhaps chopped shallot and vinaigrette, they also find their way into stews and soup. As for taste and texture they are as good as beans get.
And what do we drink with our produce? Red wine, of course, and from our own vines.
In an emergency I would return to the configuration of our predominately Triomphe d'Alsace vine that covered our arbour and garden walls. We once made 66 bottles from this arrangement. But now, because of age, I fear I have reduced coverage to just the arbour, and make but a dozen or two bottles of red from it. But it is excellent wine, known by others as Hammersmith red, but to us - just our red wine. If the virus takes over, we have plans. 

"Mothers"

We make our own vinegar with a "mother", using a 3 litre, wooden-tapped jar for red wine vinegar and another like jar for milder vinegar. Both vinegars are superior to anything you could buy.
Nowadays I wait until the red vinegar is sharp and the cider one soft and easy, then bottle one and a half litres of each in various shaped bottles for home use and gifts.
I write on this wonderful practise as a friend has just asked for a "mother".
Mothers produce daughters who become the new mothers. I have to dispose of the old ones every so often to keep them from clogging up the tap. I have to roll up my sleeve to do it, delving in and selecting the old for disposal.
To select a gift sample I was surprised to find only one mature mother - sulking at the bottom of her jar. Perhaps I had neglected to feed her with fresh wine. So I had to act the surgeon and tear off part of her body.
I now hope that the gift piece will generate vinegar and produce daughters as it should, and that my own crudely torn mother will recover her normal circular shape and virility. I have faith in her. 

A Virus Day at Home

At the time of writing we have no idea about the Covid-19 virus and how it will affect everyone's and the earth's future.
Already it has altered nearly all of our lives.
Because of age and health issues we have self-isolated, but for how long? What one can say is that for many people life has worsened a lot. We consider ourselves to be among the lucky ones.
With our 8 pm Thursday recognition of all those fighting for other people's lives, we have not only clapped hands and rung bells, but have met at our door, in a deserted street, and keeping our distance, new friends from the vicinity and exchanged ideas and gossip with neighbours.
Entrance to these open formations is simply to arrive with a glass and a bottle - that is, if you are allowed out.
Our house is not as clean as before because our once-a-week cleaner also has had to self-isolate, but the garden, where we weed, trim and exercise, is as smart as it has ever been.
One imagined that there would be less lawlessness in the present circumstances, but a disguised bottle of Champagne, left on our doorstep for half an hour as thanks for the kind lady who delivered our newspaper, was stolen. It seemed to be an inappropriate misdemeanour in these times of extra friendliness and consideration.
Some modest stores, kept by us for a possible far off emergency, now remain untouched as, because of our priority we have been given a supermarket delivery slot. The "alternatives", supplied because of shortage, have only added to our interest and imagination.
If it really ever comes to the pinch, dried sausages (pemmican) that have hung in the kitchen for some 30 years as real emergency rations, will be consumed as last resort nourishment.
Garden colour, in the form of emerging roses and pelargoniums, brighten the landscape seen from our octagonal glazed shed, but the usually bought seedlings of Busy Lizzies and New Guineas will be missing from it this year.
For some reason there has been a shortage of bird life in the garden this spring, but there are plenty of cantankerous goldfinches and large wood pigeons clinging like trapeze artists to bird feeders to amuse us. They have become garden mobiles. 

Hair Clips

We are self-isolating during the plague of Covid-19 virus. For me life is almost as usual with art on the go, writing, cooking and mucking about in our small garden, which has seldom been as neat and tidy.
Margreet has embarked on a horribly difficult jigsaw puzzle of Greater London.
Due to age and lung problems we have managed at last to obtain a supermarket delivery slot. So we have enough to eat and drink.
Just before we voluntarily locked ourselves in, as we were all told anyway, Margreet wanted a hair clip - one of those multi-toothed, fake tortoise shell, sprung clips. Primark sold them, not singly, but many on a card. She bought the cardsworth - at the expected cost of a single clip.
At that time I was sealing up partly used plastic packages of such as dried beans, frozen peas and other things, and clumsily using large paper clips to do it. Then along came those hair clips. They have turned out to be quite wonderful for the clipping together of partly-used plastic bags. I recommend them.