Insurance cuttings, a new book and the delights of a world-leading gardening library

Another week, another storm: as I write 70mph winds are battering the house once more as the weather ricochets from deep freeze to torrential rain within a matter of hours. The whole world is huddled and cowering from the rage of winter: and it’s been a corker this year.

Brave little winter aconites are always first to flower

A friend of mine down the road has a greenhouse thermometer and last week registered -9.6°C (49°F) - that’s exceptionally low for our usually mild and damp bit of England. Given that I had expected about 5°C above ambient from my cardboard-and-hessian shelter built over the top of my overwintering greenhouse geraniums – well you do the maths. I was expecting big losses again: geraniums can survive a few degrees below zero if they’re kept on the dry side, as mine are, but -5°C is beyond them.

So I was expecting the worst when I pulled back the hessian. But it looks like my ersatz insulation has done its job better than my back-of-the-envelope calculations had forecast: though there’s a lot of dead foliage, there’s also plenty that’s still green, and some have survived almost unscathed. Even my beloved but cold-sensitive P. tomentosum - big velvety leaves scented with mint - seems to have mostly survived. This makes me very happy.

Don’t be worried by the dead leaves: there are live ones beneath

It’s not over yet, of course - but whatever happens, I have the reassurance of having taken insurance cuttings of all my favourites. Last year in spring, I snipped a few of the strong new shoots from each plant, trimmed away the bottom-most leaves and potted them up in gritty compost in a propagator. Pelargoniums in particular are ridiculously easy to root so in six weeks I had duplicates of every plant in my collection.

These don’t make big plants in their first year: they fill a pot about 10cm (4”) across, which happily fits onto a windowsill very nicely. So I brought all my B-team pellies into the house (my reserve greenhouse at this time of year) for winter: and here they still are, relatively warm, green and healthy. They’ll be the ones going outside in spring for a second year; and I’ll be taking more cuttings from them too this spring. Just in case.

There is hope on the horizon. There’s only a week more to tolerate of January (my second-least-favourite month after November) and then it’s February and I can start sowing and planting again, just a little (shallots, tomatoes, aubergines and sweet peppers, mostly).

Despite what you see on social media – I am specifically thinking about a post earlier this month by BBC Gardeners’ World (who should know better) which had me huffing in exasperation – don’t be tempted to start sowing this month. Or even next month very much: you can get seeds to germinate pretty much any time of year if you give them enough warmth, but light is a different matter. It may be past solstice but the days are dark for plants until at least March. Any seeds you sow now will grow spindly and weak with lack of sunshine: sow in March or, still better, April and you’ll find the later-sown seedlings will overtake those you sowed earlier anyway, and be all the sturdier for it.

Little packets of magic

I have a date in the diary for my local Potato Day, when I can stock up on seed potatoes, onion sets and seeds. And my Heritage Seed Library seeds have arrived: always an exciting moment as you hold those wonkily-typed seed packets and wonder what interesting new flavours you’re in for this year. Four of them are beans for our growalong: I have no idea how I’m going to wait all the way till April till I sow them.

Things are also starting to happen on the book front with publication date approaching fast. My little tome all about how to grow loads of different kinds of vegetables in the greenest, most sustainable way possible arrives in the world on 11^th April, though you can of course pre-order it here.

In all good bookshops soon!

I will be out and about talking about It all over the place, from the Gillingham and Shaftesbury Show in Dorset in April, to autumn foodie celebrations at RHS Garden Rosemoor in Devon, and most excitingly of all a lecture of some sort (or maybe a conversation: we’re still chatting details) at the RHS’s Lindley Library in London.

If you have never been to the Lindley Library, mark your card for the next time you’re in the capital: it is an endlessly fascinating treasure trove for garden addicts which ought to be better known and more often visited. If you can’t get there in person, the online collections are at your fingertips to browse the history of the dahlia, portraits of orchids, community gardening in the pandemic and the entire archive of flower designer Constance Spry. Prepare to lose yourself for hours: till spring, if need be.

So what have you been up to in the garden? And have you got any distraction techniques to see us all through these storm-battered months? Do let us all know in the comments below!