Good news – I’ve been commissioned to write a series of articles, one every other month, for Cumbria Life. The first article is out now, at the end of August, though technically it’s the September issue. I’ll be writing about our gardening here on the farm, detailing our progress in making a new garden and revamping the existing layout.

Exciting progress in the garden this week – my son and his girlfriend have taken it upon themselves to cut down the hedge that separates the cottage garden at the back of the house from the old vegetable garden next to it. The process has let in a great deal of extra light and given both gardens a whole new perspective.
The hedge was originally made of neatly layered hawthorn, which has gradually been overtaken by snowberry, a vigorous shrub that spreads by means of suckers, swamping anything in its path. Snowberry, or Symphoriocarpus albus, is a relative of the honeysuckle, native to North America; it has tiny bell-shaped pink flowers throughout the summer, so small that they’re quite easy to miss, followed by round white berries in the autumn. I believe it is widely planted by gamekeepers as cover for pheasants, which like to eat the berries. As a garden plant it leaves much to be desired; it will be impossible to extract it from our hedge, and I fear the whole thing will have to come out.

I am delighted to report that, in true smallholder fashion, I have engaged in some fruitful trading with friends and neighbours this week. First I managed to swop a veg. box (cabbage, beetroot, spring onions, courgettes, broad beans and spinach all grown here on our vegetable plot) for several trailer loads of well-rotted manure, and then I traded a cucumber, a plant and half a dozen eggs for a second-hand hen coop. In addition, my son came home from University and devoted several hours to helping me relocate a large gatepost, together with its gate, and my sister has volunteered to come for a weekend next month to help with some hedge cutting. All very satisfying and sociable at the same time!

It seems like bad planning to have been abroad whilst Cumbria was experiencing its warmest weather for several years, but there it is – Keith and I treated ourselves to a week’s holiday on the Greek Island of Kephalonia at the end of June, when temperatures were, if anything, slightly cooler than we would have experienced had we stayed at home. The difference between the two climates, I suppose, is that Cumbria will eventually return to its normal chilly self, whilst Kephalonia will stay warm, dry and sunny, with winter temperatures rarely falling below 9 or 10 degrees Celsius.
It was apricot time whilst we were there – you can imagine us scrumping for sweet, juicy apricots whilst our landlady was using them in as many forms as she could think of in order to use up the surplus (her apricot jam was delicious, the apricot chutney less so…). Picked and eaten fresh from the tree, the apricots tasted so good that I’m determined to have a go at growing my own…
The Head Gardeners of wealthy Victorians knew a thing or two about growing exotic fruit like peaches, sweet cherries and apricots. They trained them against the sunniest, south facing walls of the kitchen garden, where the red bricks absorbed heat during the day, slowly losing it at night, like giant storage heaters. Although apricot trees are fully winter hardy, they flower early in the year when the blossoms are easily damaged by frost. Frameworks that would support fine netting were built into the walls so that nets could be lowered over the fruit trees at night to protect them, and then raised during the day to let pollinating insects get to the blossoms.
To my surprise, Reads Nursery (one of the best fruit nurseries in the country, I think) advises against planting on a south wall – “beware, a south facing site may result in the apricot tree blossoming earlier than usual, exposing the flowers to frost; an east facing location or north slope is much more beneficial as they are usually sheltered from the prevailing winds and benefit from the early morning sun.” Following this advice, I find I have a perfect spot for an apricot tree – against the north facing, red brick wall of the old hen house that forms one side of our sheltered stable yard.
Despite the fact that Greek apricots grow on thin soils above limestone rock, both Reads and the RHS maintain that apricots prefer a well-drained but moisture retentive soil at least 18 inches deep, with a slightly acidic pH. Apricots are self-fertile, which means you can a good fruit set even if you only have one tree, and they are best planted in early autumn.