I’m very pleased to announce that our new 2010 heritage fruit tree catalogue is finished and available for download, or delivery via post (let me know if you want a hard copy). Orders are now welcome for our 2010 bare root season.

When browsing through the catalogue, the first change you’ll notice from 2009 is that we have a much larger range of apples available this year, with a good spread of ripening times and uses. Some are perfect for fresh eating, others are ideal for the kitchen, some are just downright interesting feature plants to have in the garden. You’ll also find an expanded range of stonefruit, a small range of nut trees, a couple of different berry plants, and for those who are after something a bit different, medlars and weeping apples. If there’s anything we don’t have that you’re interested in, let me know and I’ll do my best to track it down.

All the practical stuff is the same as last year. Orders and payment due ASAP to reserve your order, with delivery or pick-up of trees commencing in late June or early July (depending on how co-operative the weather is). We’ve received lots of enquiries about our trees already, so I’d suggest getting in early to avoid missing out on your preferred varieties.

Hope you’re enjoying these dying days of summer, and looking forward to what promises to be a classic autumn. Feel free to get in touch if you have any questions at all about the trees, and remember that feedback (be it positive or constructive) is always welcome.

Happy gardening,

Justin

PS :- If you missed the link, please click here to go to the catalogue page.

I’m putting the finishing touches on our new 2010 catalogue as we speak, and it should be available for download this afternoon. In it you’ll find a good range of heritage apples, as well as pears, stonefruit, nut trees and more, plus the odd rarity like weeping apples and medlars. Based on the number of enquiries we’ve had already we expect strong demand for our trees this year, so to get a copy a copy of the catalogue as soon as its released, please make sure you email us your details.

Happy fruit growing,

Justin

In society’s quest for all things bigger and brighter and newer, innovation rules. The traditional, the tried and the tested, the old stuff, tends to get thrown mercilessly on the scrap heap of history.

Not in my world it doesn’t. I’d hardly consider myself a Luddite, but I will admit having a thing for old stuff. I studied some history subjects at uni, live in an 80-year-old farmers cottage, grow mostly heirloom vegies, and have a growing collection of antique apple trees. For whatever reason, old stuff appeals to my sensibilities. I’m not into junk though – most of the items I welcome into my home or garden have to be either a classic in their field, useful or beautiful. That’s what works for me.

Gardening isn’t immune from this quest for the latest and greatest. Sometimes a new way of doing things is warranted, particularly if research shows that a traditional way of doing something was simply an old wives’ tale. There are occasions though when innovation is glorified for its own sake. I think we need reminding that in the pursuit of a healthy, productive garden, the old ways remain just as relevant to us as they were to our ancestors.

Over the last few years I’ve written about pleaching and coppicing, a couple of old gardening techniques that remain useful for modern gardeners. This time around I want to spend a couple of weeks on espalier. The reason for this special focus is that espalier is a technique that’s finding new relevance in contemporary, space constrained gardens.

Let’s kick things off with a definition. The word espalier (I pronounce it “espaylia” but some prefer “espaliay”) comes from the Italian word spalliera, which means “wainscot to lean the shoulder against” and literally refers to the trellis on which a plant is trained to grow.

The technique is thought to have originated with the Egyptians, but was perfected during the Middle Ages in France, where fruit trees were espaliered within walled gardens to save space, utilise radiant heat from the walls, and as with so many things French, create something that is both useful and beautiful.

Hundreds of different espalier forms have been created, but around a dozen or less are in common use. The craft has been applied mostly to fruiting trees, particularly apples and pears, but it’s applicable to any tree or shrub that has flexible branches and a relatively compact growth habit. Some popular ornamentals suited to espalier include magnolias, camellias and roses.

The benefits of espalier are many. The most obvious is that espaliered trees save space. When grafted on a dwarfing rootstock, an apple tree can be easily trained along a fence or driveway, taking up about as much room as a garden bench. If a bit more space is available, you could include a number of trees. My espalier orchard at Thistlebrook takes up just 50sqm, but includes 15 different apple varieties with the potential to supply fruit for cooking and fresh eating from December to July.

One of the trees, a ‘Lord Lambourne’ is producing fruit in less than two years, which is testament to the fact that espaliered trees tend to bear a good deal earlier than standard trees. They also bear more heavily, and have a longer productive lifespan. The reason for these traits is related to sap flow. Just as a bend in a pipe slows down the flow of water, a bend in a branch slows down the flow of sap. The more horizontal the angle of a branch, the less sap flows through it, reducing the formation of vegetative buds and increasing the production of fruiting buds. As a consequence, espaliered trees produce much higher yields per square metre than standard field grown trees.

Espalier contradicts the modernist adage, form follows function. With an espaliered fruit tree, form and function are inseparable. By creating an espalier, you are creating not just a highly productive plant, but a living sculpture, a testimony to the interaction between gardener and tree. You might choose to grow a series of espaliers as a Belgian fence, creating a productive barrier to keep the kids either in or out, depending on your needs. And if the fence fails to perform, you could try bribing them with a piece of fruit from a tree instead.

What I like most about espalier is that it’s a gentle art, not unlike bonsai in that it takes dedication, perseverance, knowledge and patience. Espalier bucks the trend. The process of training a tree to look beautiful, and become fruitful, is the best antidote to our society’s pathological addiction to speed.

Next week – practical espalier techniques for home gardens

First published in The Chronicle 20th February 2010. Photo by Justin Russell.

If this statement doesn’t hit you square between the eyes, nothing will: the world will run out of topsoil in 60 years. When I first heard scientist John Crawford make the claim on the ABC’s 7.30 Report a couple of weeks ago I was, literally, slack jawed. Sixty years! The implications of a number like this are massive, but when combined with a number like nine billion, the projected population of the earth in 2050, the figures are almost too much to comprehend.

Crawford, a professor at the University of Sydney’s Institute of Sustainable Solutions calls the soil depletion process “Peak Soil”. He points to China, where natural forces and industrial agriculture combine to deplete topsoil at a rate 57 times faster than it can be replenished. In the US, the National Academy of Sciences estimates the depletion rate to be 10 times. In NSW, the rate is about five times. To put the depletion in other terms, more than 75 billion tonnes of topsoil is lost annually and 80% of the world’s farming land is moderately or severely eroded.

Our topsoil bank, says Professor Crawford, will soon be empty. In Australia the problem is exacerbated because our rocks, which break down to provide the minerals in soil, are geologically ancient. Much of their weathering has already taken place. This means that our soils have generally lost much of their “goodness”, and most of the nutrients are stored in Australia’s existing plants. Read between the lines and you’ll realise that in Australia, an estimate of sixty years until the topsoil is depleted is likely to be very generous.

For those of you reading this article from the comfort of your lounge room, this might all seem a bit trivial, alarmist even. You rock up to your local supermarket week in and out to purchase a trolley full of food. Other than when banana prices skyrocket, it’s no big deal. The groceries get stacked in the pantry, eaten by the end of the week, and a fresh trip to the shops conducted 52 weeks of the year to replenish supplies.

What we’ve forgotten is Wendell Berry’s reminder that “eating is an agricultural act”. Those groceries lining the cupboard and the fruit bowl were grown by a farmer, on a farm, probably in soil. If you think soil depletion doesn’t affect you, it’s time to wake up. No topsoil by 2060 means widespread, aching hunger, the kind that compels people to fill their bellies with anything – even the dirt that once produced crops.

The good news, says Professor Crawford and other soil scientists, is that there are simple solutions to the problem. These solutions can be applied equally on a scale that ranges from a tiny backyard to a broad acre farm, and they can be very cheap to implement.

1. Keep the soil covered. Soil that has dried out during a drought has a diminished capacity to support microbial life and it’s more prone to being blown or washed away. Spread a layer of mulch, preferably something that will gradually break down to feed the micro-organisms in the soil. The use of cover crops in the vegie patch will perform a similar role.

2. Soil can be replenished. It takes time and effort to do so, but through the continual addition of organic matter to depleted soil, fertility can be significantly increased and microbial life enhanced. An added benefit of soils rich in organic matter is the capacity to store moisture. The easiest ways to improve soil at home are by making compost and growing green manures.

3. Avoid cultivating the soil. No till gardening isn’t practical (try growing carrots in non-sandy soil that hasn’t been dug), but we can all aim to make our practices minimum till. Don’t dig for the sake of exercise, and once soil has been dug, try to implement point one (above) as soon as possible. It’s also a good idea to regularly spell beds in the food producing garden.

John Crawford says that most people encounter soil as that inconvenient stuff that sticks to the sole of your shoe and has to be scraped off before entering the house. In other words we treat it like dirt. Those days have to end, and a new era of soil conservation – where we treat it not like dirt but an essential building block of life – has to begin. Start now in your own garden, and implore your friends to do the same. Unless you all want to eat hydroponic tomatoes. But then, where would we get the water?

First published in The Chronicle 13th February 2010.

Thanks ex-tropical cyclone Olga. What beautiful rain you’ve delivered, and just in the nick of time too. After great falls in December, January was a much drier than average month as those northerly winds and hot temperatures kicked back in. My garden was starting to look completely frazzled. But you’ve given us what we really needed – some respectable follow up rain. If the bureau’s right and we get further decent falls throughout February, we’ll be set up for a classic Downs autumn.

With extended periods of wet weather like we’ve had recently, there is a downside for gardeners. A warm, rainy week equals fungal disease. While some fungi are actually beneficial, there are those caused by pathogens that can wreak damage on plants that lack built in resistance. Sometimes the effects are superficial, affecting the gardener more than the plant. Rust on frangipani or canna leaves, for example. Sometimes though, fungal diseases can seriously damage a plant or its fruit, causing crop failures and in extreme cases, death.

Some of the more common fungal diseases you might encounter this week include: powdery mildew, a particular problem with cucurbits, roses and some perennials; blackspot, the major fungal problem with roses;  brown rot, a major problem with stonefruit; and wilt, fungal diseases that particularly affect tomatoes. There are many others of course, and their causes vary.

Lots of fungal diseases manifest during, or shortly after, periods of wet weather. But some prefer dry conditions, others are spread by a “vector” such as insect pests, while others can reside in the soil and become a problem when waterlogging occurs. Phytophthora is an example of the latter, known colloquially as “die back”. Diagnosis of this, and many fungal diseases, is particularly problematic for amateur gardens and few people are prepared to send samples off to a laboratory for proper identification.

Fortunately, fungal diseases can often be effectively controlled without a specific diagnosis, and through a number of different means. As with the human body, the most effective way to deal with fungal problems is through prevention. This can take the form of traditional plant breeding, where nurserymen select and develop plant cultivars that have built-in resistance to specific fungi, or through good cultural practices on the part of the gardener.

A case can be made for having a reasonably tidy garden. By cleaning up fungus affected leaves of roses and fallen fruit, for example, the gardener can prevent outbreaks of fungal disease occurring in the first place. Another means of prevention is by controlling vector insects like aphids and beetles so that they are unable to transfer fungal disease from plant to plant. Increase air circulation around susceptible plants, an even better, practice building a healthy soil full of beneficial micro-organisms. This will help plants naturally resist disease.

Sometimes though, prevention is best achieved by spraying. Many of the fungal diseases affecting fruiting plants, particularly stonefruit and others in the rose (Rosaceae family), can be stopped in their tracks by applying an over wintering spray. Being an organic gardener, I recommend using products that are acceptable under the Australian Organic Standard and in pragmatic terms, this means using either a copper-based spray such as Bordeaux, or lime sulphur.

Neither is ideal, but of the two, lime sulphur is the preferred option. Copper is a heavy metal. This means that it can accumulate and persist in the soil, and research indicates that it’s particularly harmful to earthworms and soil-borne organisms. It is an acceptable input under the new Australian Certified Organic Standard, but it’s worth noting that the European Union has banned the use of copper sprays and other countries are heading in a similar direction. Both copper and lime must be used in accordance with the manufacturer’s directions as they can be harmful to plants when applied incorrectly.

For minor fungal infections, there are even “softer” options available. Milk sprays are effective in preventing powdery mildew on grapes, roses and cucurbits. Simply mix one part full cream milk to nine parts water (or 100ml milk topped up with water in a one litre container) and spray on the foliage of susceptible plants every week or two. Potassium bicarbonate (sold as EcoRose) is also effective in preventing a range of minor fungal diseases, and some gardeners get decent results by spraying foliage regularly with seaweed extract.

Above all, it’s worth remembering an old gardener’s rule of thumb: if a fungal disease has already presented itself, then it’s too late for prevention. Control the existing outbreak and resolve to get in earlier next year.

First published in The Chronicle 6th February, 2010.

I was tidying my office the other day in one of my semi-regular attempts to regain control of the mountains of paper that end up on my desk. What I hadn’t accounted for was the number of plant labels that had found a home beside the computer and under a stack of gardening magazines.

I keep all the labels from purchased plants as a reference. If I were to pull out the file they reside in and add them all up, I suppose there would be hundreds, probably thousands of individual labels describing hundreds of different plants species. They’re not always accurate, often carrying an incorrect botanical name or providing dodgy cultural advice, but they’re worth hanging on to nonetheless. You never know when you might need to refer to one.

Anyway, while tidying up the labels it got me thinking about some of my favourite plants. Apples top the list. I am, after all, the grandson of a man raised in Herefordshire, one of the world’s great apple growing regions. Salvias are up there. So are ornamental grasses, pear trees, roses and grevilleas. But one group of plants I’ve developed a recent affection for are berries.

I guess much of the enthusiasm is for the fruit, but I also have a genuine appreciation for the plants and their culture. I’m one of these weird people who has a dedicated berry patch in the garden, and because I enjoy training plants, one of my favourite jobs is to tie the raspberry canes to a wire trellis to keep them in some semblance of order and to make for easier picking.

And let me assure you, there will be plenty of picking. Raspberries in particular produce large yields of fruit for the small amount of space they require. My plants take up about six square metres, yet produce scores of punnets of plump, organically grown, absolutely delectable fruit. The kids graze on them most mornings, relatives and visitors to the garden always want a sample (one family likened the taste to raspberry cordial!), and still there are copious amounts of fruit to be picked. Blackberries are even more productive, but depending on the variety take up more space.

If berries are so productive and easy to grow, why do so few people have a berry patch in the backyard? I think one reason is the perception that cane berries can be invasive. This is true to some extent. Blackberries grow in wild thickets just down the road from my house, and left untended, they’d perform similarly in a garden setting. Raspberries sucker like mad. Some growers plant them in a contained bed, but the suckers are easy to dig up and provide plenty of new plants to give away. And while it’s true that some blackberries have vicious thorns, that’s never stopped rose growers and varieties such as ‘Waldo’ are thorn free.

I think the other reason people don’t grow them much is that they have a reputation for being cold climate plants. Again, this is only half true. Some raspberries and blackberries need cold winters to set fruit, but autumn fruiting raspberries such as the variety ‘Heritage’ tend to be low-chill. Plus, the red soils of Toowoomba, Highfields, Hampton and so on are ideal. Berries prefer rich, slightly acid soil and above all, excellent drainage.

The third reason most people don’t grow them is due to a perception that they’re hard to grow and need special training. Again, half true. Get the soil right (see above but also add lots of organic matter prior to planting), give them an aspect with full or morning sun, and a bit of water when dry, and you’re half way there. Training is a bit trickier, but not much.

Raspberries are classed as either summer or autumn fruiting. Summer varieties produce flowers (and therefore fruit) on second-year wood called floricanes. In the first year, these are called primocanes. Pruning is done in autumn and consists simply of cutting out all floricanes than have finished fruiting, leaving the pale green coloured primocanes to produce next summer’s crop. Blackberries are dealt with in a similar fashion. Autumn fruiting raspberries are even simpler. In winter you just cut all the canes back to ground level. They’ll shoot again in spring, and produce fruit on one year old wood.

Why buy those expensive packets of frozen berries from the supermarket when you can easily grow your own berries at home? In my view berries ought to be considered an essential plant in all but the warmest parts of the Downs. They deserve a bit of space alongside those other ubiquitous plants of the Aussie backyard, the lemon tree and the passionfruit vine.

First published in The Chronicle 30th January 2010. Photo by Justin Russell.

I’m not one to blow my own trumpet, nor do I buy into the whole competitive vegetable growing thing. But I just had to post this photo of a carrot recently pulled from the vegie patch. It measures 15cm long by a tick under 7cm in diameter. It was by far the fattest carrot I’ve ever seen.

The variety is ‘Royal Chantenay’. The truth is, this variety has a propensity for developing ample girth, so it’s not all my own doing. But carrots aren’t the easiest things in the world to grow, and I’m feeling a bit pleased with my efforts. Not smug, just satisfied.

And for those who are wondering: unlike most monster vegies, it was delicious!

In one of Aesop’s most well known fables, the fox encounters a lion for the first time, is terribly frightened, and hides in the wood. The second time the fox encounters the lion, he stops at a safe distance and watches the king of beasts pass by. The third time the fox encounters the lion, he passes the time of day with him, asking after his family and wishing him well before turning tail and parting with little ceremony.

The moral of the story is “familiarity breeds contempt”. This is interpreted as meaning either: the more you get to know something or someone, the more scornful you become about that thing’s, or person’s, faults; or alternatively, the longer you live with someone or something, the more passé you become.

In the garden, this idiom plays out in a number of ways. It’s certainly true of our approach to native Australian plants, where we’ll often overlook a familiar stunner right under our feet as we gaze wistfully on beauties from far off lands. I think it’s also a defining characteristic of gardening elitism. I’ve come across more than a couple of plant snobs who boast about the exoticism of their collection while readily heaping scorn on common plants grown by common people.

My response to this kind of horticultural hoity-toity is to say: spare me your pompousness. I’ve never bought into this notion that youth rules, newness is all and the sooner familiar stuff is replaced the better. I happen to like old stuff, and sympathise with Thoreau, who said “do not trouble yourself much to get new things. Turn the old; return to them.” I’m also with Thoreau’s mentor Emerson, who said that “the invariable mark of wisdom is the ability to see the miraculous in the common.”

The practical implications of this kind of belief are twofold. Firstly, most gardeners are simply interested in growing plants that are “gardenworthy”, caring little about fashion, or newness for its own sake. If a new release plant has qualities that make it especially worthy of a place in our gardens, fair enough. Bring it on. But from where I sit, I see less and less regard for the fashion advice dished out by Melbourne’s latest hotshot garden designer. All plants are worthy of respect, and lots (but not all) are worthy of a spot in the garden, be they familiar or not.

The other implication is this, and you’re probably sick of hearing me say it: the best gardens are idiosyncratic. They’re not cookie cutter landscapes made by cookie cutter landscape designers. The best gardens clearly bear the mark of their creator/s, reflecting their personality and tastes, their values and passions. They’re made over many years by real life people. They’ve got soul.

So my point in writing this article is to encourage you to set your garden (and yourself) free from the shackles of designer culture and the dodgy advice that comes from on high about what’s in and what’s out. Today’s trendy plant is just as likely to be tomorrow’s compost.  The sad part about this disposable approach to gardening is that otherwise excellent plants get ripped out simply because they’ve become commonplace. You ought to have no qualms in growing whatever suits your fancy, not theirs.

Make the garden your own. If you’re keen to grow agapathus along the driveway, ignore the fashion police who’ll smugly tell you that such a move is oh so daggy. Aggies are a great plant with a long history of cultivation in our gardens and they work brilliantly lining a driveway. Do what you like. Personally, I favour tried and true, old fashioned favourites over the latest and greatest. Commonplace plants cost me a lot less money than the latest releases, and because I’ve got little time to mollycoddle plants, I’m after things that are reliable performers in our finicky climate.

A caveat for the nursery industry: not for one second am I suggesting that all new release plants are bad. Breeders have an important role in developing gardenworthy plants, and indeed, many exceptional plants have been developed. I am saying though, that some new releases aren’t as special as the marketers would have us believe, and lots have little genuine need to be released at all. I’d rather use a familiar plant creatively than fork out for a whiz bang release that’s not that whiz bang just for the sake of keeping up appearances. The world of old plants is vast and full of opportunity. Why not explore it instead?

First published in The Chronicle 23rd January 2010. Photo by Justin Russell.

How many of you have this resolution stuck on your fridge at the dawn of a new year: “Grow some fruit and vegies.”? Lots of you, I hope, because of all the resolutions you could possibly make, home growing is not only one of the most do-able, it’s also one of the most exciting. There’s the promise of basket loads of delicious food for starters, which I can guarantee will be better tasting and infinitely fresher than the stuff on offer at the supermarket.

But there’s more to it than just physical pleasure. For me, home growing is one of the most deeply satisfying things I do. This is due in part to the nature of the work, whereby good stuff is produced through gratifying toil, but even more profound is the sense that you’re tapping into ancient rhythms. With lives dominated by a 24 hour news cycle rather than the cycles of night and day, full moon and new, summer and winter, the choice to take up home growing is a choice to reconnect.

Ahead of you then, new home growers, is an exhilarating, and occasionally frustrating journey. The best advice I can give is to start out brimming with enthusiasm. Let no one temper it. You’re right to be excited, and the best way to get started is to simply get stuck in and have a go. Vegetable growing isn’t as difficult as some gardeners claim, so chances are good that your initial efforts will be rewarded with admirable results. In turn, these results will spur you on to a new level of competency.

In practical terms, how should you actually make a start? Well, the very first thing you ought to do is spend some time laying out your plot. Make it as simple or elaborate as you wish. Perhaps start small and leave room for expansion, but don’t feel that you need to skimp on design just because you’re planning a vegetable patch. Make it beautiful and functional. Once the layout is in place it’s time to work on that most miraculous building block of life, the soil.

The very best thing you can do is improve existing site soil by adding plenty of compost and rotted manure, checking to make the pH is neither too acidic or too alkaline. If you’ve built raised beds and need to bring soil in, try to buy real soil rather than one of the soil-less mixes. Either way, get plenty of organic matter into your plot for good long term results.

Now that you’ve improved the soil, it’s time for plants. This is where most new home growers totally lose the plot and buy a boot load of this, that and everything else. Well, so be it. Who am I to tell you shouldn’t go a bit overboard in your first season? Kylie and I did. We grew lots of things we didn’t really eat, but the experimentation was brilliant fun and what we didn’t like using ourselves got donated to friends and rellies. I’d call that a good outcome, wouldn’t you. I repeat, let no one temper your enthusiasm.

Try growing some crops from seed. Some easy plants to start with are beans, corn, rocket, beetroot and pumpkin. Sow just beneath the surface of finely prepared soil, and keep evenly moist until seedlings appear in about seven days. When they’re up and have grown a second set of leaves, thin the seedlings out to the spacings recommended on the packet.

Now comes the trickiest part – maintenance. Some garden writers will tell you that vegetables are prone to all manner of pests and diseases. This is only half true. For a new garden’s first couple of seasons, pests will be yet to really discover your plot. In subsequent years this will change, so use the opportunity now to practise some organic control measures. Most importantly, don’t flip out every time a hole appears in a leaf. Most problems aren’t serious and can either be controlled or ignored. Keep the soil well fed and well watered. My approach to pest control is a combination of prevention, building biodiversity, treating acute problems, and practising the fine art of turning a blind eye.

Above all else, go for it! You’re about to take up one of life’s truly noble pursuits, a source of endless joy and boundless satisfaction. Tune into the seasons, don a straw hat, take up a spade and start digging. Long live the home grower!

First published in The Chronicle 16th January, 2010. Photo by Justin Russell.

What a difference a few weeks make. This time a month ago the tanks were empty, the lawn was brown, trees were dropping leaves and the view from my office window looked more like Alice Springs than Hampton. Today, 170mm of rainfall later, the landscape is utterly transformed. Everything looks fresh and I sense a potency about the garden that was absent during the hot and dusty days of spring. Plants that were limp now appear desperate to grow and flower and fruit.

At times like this I itch to get outside between the showers and take a walk. In addition to checking the rain gauge I just have to see with my own eyes how much things have grown. I never cease to be amazed. Besides the lawn, which seems to have developed megalomaniac tendencies despite the attentions of the mower, the award for fastest growing plant of the last month has to go to the pumpkins.

This year we planted an heirloom Tuscan variety with a reputation for vigour. When I see that word in relation to pumpkins my response is one of hesitancy, because I know from previous experience that pumpkins are vigorous enough without having the attribute emphasised on a seed packet. So knowing I wouldn’t have the space in the veg garden we planted them out the front in generous patch of cultivated land that was sitting idle. I’ve come to the conclusion that ‘Marina de Chioggia’ is a romantic sounding name for a brute of a plant. They’ve gone berserk!

I should know better of course. Give a pumpkin free reign and it’ll start to resemble a giant octopus that spreads its tentacles across the lawn and over the fence, pulling down and swamping every plant in its path. I plant mine at least a couple of metres apart, and even then I’ll end up pruning off lots of tentacles. If you’re pushed for space, why not look to the heavens. Not necessarily for divine inspiration, but for precious vertical space that tends to get easily overlooked. All but the largest fruiting varieties will happily grow up a strong trellis, using very little space at ground level.

Like all members of the Cucurbitaceae family, which includes watermelon, cucumber and zucchini, pumpkin is an easy plant to grow from seed. I like to raise seedlings in the greenhouse where there’s protection from late frost, transplanting into the garden late in October for harvest in autumn. Sowing directly into the garden is just as viable. Just wait until the soil has warmed to about 20C. Being heavy feeders with a long growing season, rich conditions are appreciated but poor drainage won’t be tolerated – it’s a good idea to plant on a low mound built from a mix of soil and composted manure. Water frequently during dry weather and mulch.

Pollination can be hit and miss. Pumpkins are monoecious, producing male and female flowers on the one plant. Bees are the main pollinators, but if the weather’s too hot or cold, windy or wet, they can have trouble going about their business and fruit set may be poor as a result. This is where the gardener can pick up the slack. Start by identifying the male and female flowers (the females have an ovary like swelling at the base). Pick a male flower, remove the petals, and brush the pollen on the stigma of the female flowers. A bit trickier than sitting back watching a bee do its work but not much.

Cucurbits are particularly prone to powdery mildew. This is a fungus that spreads via spores, loves extended periods of humidity, and appears as a grey, powdery coating on the leaf surface. It’s hard to eradicate, but can be controlled organically by spraying EcoRose (potassium bicarbonate) or better still, a simple milk spray made from one part full cream milk to about 10 parts water. Apply to the entire plant once per week as a preventative. Avoid spraying the foliage when you water the plants, and water only in the morning to avoid damp foliage during the night.

I’m not that fussed on some of the other members of the cucurbit family – one can only eat so many zucchinis – but pumpkins are another story. They’re delicious and versatile. They’ll store beautifully for months, look nice sitting on a kitchen bench, and can be cooked in all sorts of ways. I prefer them roasted, but if you ask my six-year-old daughter what her favourite food is, she’ll probably reply “pumpkin soup”. Served on a winter’s night with a dollop of sour cream and crusty homemade bread, I’d be hard pressed to come up with an alternative.

First published in The Chronicle 9th January, 2010. Photo by Justin Russell.