Last summer I was astonished by how my little potted Charlotte Russe dwarf mulberry tree managed to produce over 5kg of berries. I was able to turn them into pies, jam and even wine.
It was only in October, when she blew over in a storm, that I discovered the wrist-thick root that she’d sent into the ground through a drainage hole. She was only ever *wearing* that pot. Sitting on the concrete pivoting on a root was very awkward and I had to tie her to my birch row to keep her upright until she dropped her leaves. Then it rained or I was too busy until this weekend.
I should mention that my raised bed has been uninspiring for several years now, from the squashes with blossom-end rot to the beetroots that only ever produced leaves to the pumpkins that only produced male flowers to the tomatoes that stayed green until November, I’ve wasted a lot of time, dirt, work and water on this little frame. This year I mostly filled it with sage and summer savoury and it was boring but not quite so depressing as before. But we just don’t eat that much sage.
So, sod it. Charlotte, welcome home. You’re a herb now. Dug out about 15kg of bricks (word to the wise: if you’re planting trees in London, start with a little bare-root stick and let it find its own way through the buried rubble under your garden. Your back will thank you.) to give her somewhere for her giant knotty (naughty) roots to go. Hopefully in a couple of years she’ll rebound from the trauma I just put her through and will start producing fruit again.
(only one poke off the anti-litterbox mesh! I think that’s some sort of record. And yes, the excluded cat is upstairs sulking as we speak.)
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Last summer I was astonished by how my little potted Charlotte Russe dwarf mulberry tree managed to produce over 5kg of berries. I was able to turn them into pies, jam and even wine.
It was only in October, when she blew over in a storm, that I discovered the wrist-thick root that she’d sent into the ground through a drainage hole. She was only ever *wearing* that pot. Sitting on the concrete pivoting on a root was very awkward and I had to tie her to my birch row to keep her upright until she dropped her leaves. Then it rained or I was too busy until this weekend.
I should mention that my raised bed has been uninspiring for several years now, from the squashes with blossom-end rot to the beetroots that only ever produced leaves to the pumpkins that only produced male flowers to the tomatoes that stayed green until November, I’ve wasted a lot of time, dirt, work and water on this little frame. This year I mostly filled it with sage and summer savoury and it was boring but not quite so depressing as before. But we just don’t eat that much sage.
So, sod it. Charlotte, welcome home. You’re a herb now. Dug out about 15kg of bricks (word to the wise: if you’re planting trees in London, start with a little bare-root stick and let it find its own way through the buried rubble under your garden. Your back will thank you.) to give her somewhere for her giant knotty (naughty) roots to go. Hopefully in a couple of years she’ll rebound from the trauma I just put her through and will start producing fruit again.
(only one poke off the anti-litterbox mesh! I think that’s some sort of record. And yes, the excluded cat is upstairs sulking as we speak.)