Farmstead Road Community Garden is a hidden green space in Bellingham, South London. We grow food and flowers, create spaces for wildlife, and find ways to engage the local community. Get in touch to see how you can join in, or check the Events page for a program of what's coming up.
It was a treat to see this brimstone butterfly (Gonepteryx rhamni) making the most of the morning sun. They are one of a handful of butterflies that hibernate through winter in their adult state, and so can be seen earlier than most as they emerge from diapause. This is a male, and they usually appear earlier than the females, which have paler wings. Butterflies often rest with their wings folded up, but the brimstone makes a point of it, maintaining the leaf-like disguise which is brought about by colour, shape, and prominent veining. This one was very relaxed, happy to keep feeding despite me hovering rather close with the camera.
Spring may be creeping in at a glacial pace, but nature has lost patience and is running ahead regardless. We normally have a pair of raucous magpies making their presence felt, but now we've got a pair of crows looking to set up home - hopefully alongside, rather than in place of. They've been generally keeping to themselves, but today a heron landed, and they didn't like it one bit. They mobbed it, until it flew off to the roof of a nearby house. Then they mobbed it again, so it went across to the opposite side of the garden. And then again, and then a fourth time, at which point it gave up and flew off for good.
Nesting corvids will aggressively defend a large area from anything they percieve as a threat. Last year, the magpies would frequently mob the local cats to ensure they kept away, which made for quite a spectacle. Herons are definitely a threat - they'll swallow anything they can get down their necks, and they have very stretchy necks. I'd neved seen a heron land here until today, and as long as the crows are around, I don't suppose I'll see it again.
The warm, dry weather continues, and as unseasonal as it is, there's no denying it's pretty glorious. "Sunny but not too hot" is exactly the kind of weather we don't get enough of around here. It's surely a sign that all is not well with the climate, but you'd be crazy not to appreciate it while it's good. Do bear in mind, if you've got outdoor pots, they will need more water than usual for the time of year - we haven't had a good soak for a while now.
According to some sources, an Indian Summer is a period of warm, still weather that occurs after the first hard frost. That seems churlishly precise, so I'm going with the far looser definition favoured by weather historian William R. Deedler: "Any spell of warm, quiet, hazy weather that may occur in October or November." Enjoy it while it lasts, which according to forecasts will be the middle of next week.
Hello, and welcome to another episode of unseasonable weather brought to you by an increasingly erratic jetstream. I write this on what is, but really shouldn't be, the hottest day of the year. In September. According to Met Office, it's not even summer (although according to astronomers, Autumn is still 13 days away)).
In fact, temperatures above 30 in September, while unusual, are not unprecedented. And given the summer we've just had, many gardeners will welcome them (though plenty would also welcome a splash of rain): it's a last chance for sunshine crops like tomatoes to get the boost they need to ripen before the cold sets in. I've certainly got a lot peppers that I'm hoping to get over the line before then.
But we've chosen today to make the wine, and the only place we can screw the press down is on the edge of the shade, meaning that while my legs are fairly comfy, my head is stuck in the sun. Which is fine for a while, but this is dragging on; the grapes weren't really ripe, and are reluctant to give up what little juice they hold. We'll be lucky to get a quarter of our last harvest, but the pigeons have been seen eyeing them up, so if we left it any longer we'd get none at all. Let's hope it's worth it!
A favourite spectacle of the summer months is that of bumblebees gambolling in poppies. Early in the morning, fresh poppy buds spring open, and the virgin pollen is a magnet to bees. You can hear the hum as you approach, and on closer inspection you'll find 1, 2 or 3 bees, rolling around in a hedonistic orgy of indulgence.
These are opium poppies, and they grow like weeds across the site. They don't contain nectaries, so the bees are only getting pollen, but that doesn't seem to diminish the attraction. Observing the drunken bumbling between flowers, and their inability to stay on their feet once they're in them, it's tempting to think that they're enjoying the opiates that make the flower famous. But as far as is known, that's not the case - there's no evidence that the pollen is drugged, and the function of opiates, which are highly astringent, is to deter potential diners, not entice them as recreational users.
Now I'm not saying the weather is terrible - it isn't - but it's also not the springiest spring we've ever enjoyed. Temperatures have been a little cool, but it's the wind that's making it feel particularly unseasonable. Plants can readily toughen themselves against the cold and the sun, but they can't do much about being rolled all over the patio. So it's little and often when it comes to hardening: pick your moment to put them outside, and remember to keep an eye on them, because changeability seems to be this season's top trend. Good luck out there!
This is more like it! Blue skies... a low, bright sun... freshness in the air... and that blossom! I don't know what it is about this spring, but we've got an amazing display in the orchard. So good that I've just cancelled my trip to Japan! (Just kidding; I've actually only cancelled my trip to Beckenham Place Park).
This is one of the plum trees, and I've no idea what it's doing having so many flowers. It sure can't be intending to have this many plums. But I'm not complaining, as it's not only a treat for us here at FRCG, but it brightens the view for the whole neighbourhood that backs onto the garden.
A very Happy New Year to all the growers out there. It's a dark time still, but that critical milestone, the Winter Solstice, is already a week behind us. Little by little the days are getting longer, and while it's not yet time to pack away the Damart™, the brightening skies bring a glimmer of hope. There's still not much to do in the garden, but if your green fingers are itching, there's one job you can be getting on with: sowing chillies.
Chilli seeds need heat to germinate, so it's typical to sow them later in the year. But they're also slow growing, and that can leave you with insufficient time to get a ripe crop. So if you've got a way of keeping them warm, get a head start on the season and follow our tips.
Here's a picture of some snow-covered willow to brighten your day. Snow in London is a rare thing. Yeah, I know it's not for everyone, but it does make the place look pretty, and it's a change from the plodding grey dampness we normally get for a quarter of the year. The crazy cold snap means it has stuck around for days, which is a lot nicer than the instant slush it usually becomes. But it also caught the gritters by surprise, meaning some of the lesser-used roads and pavements are properly treacherous. Be careful out there!
Well this is a shock. Seems like only a few weeks ago it was 20 degrees outside, and here we are at the start of December and it's like a real winter. Remember real winters? I do, just about. We needed scarves and hats for Bonfire Night, and sat in front of the fire at night because the rest of the house was too cold to touch. Recently, autumn and the first part of winter has been mild, and indeed this year was looking to follow that pattern - we had strawberries fruiting in November. Now there's a permafrost, and I've got potatoes in the ground somewhere but they're not coming out without a pneumatic drill.