Just the other day, I discovered a half-empty bottle of Lucozade placed in the euphorbia trough by one of the scaffolders. An architect friend joked, “Are you sure that’s Lucozade?” giving me a new perspective.
All this is to say, the garden is in disarray. Sometimes neglect has its perks; after returning from holiday, I spotted a sunflower sprouting in the back corner.
This week, though, some urgent tidying is underway. Being six months pregnant, I’ve hired a professional gardener to tackle troublesome weeds like a prickly weed and young tree shoots from the neighbour’s tree, while leaving the good stuff. Next, in the open patches, I’ll be sowing cover crops.
Cover crops act like heroes when it comes to boosting soil quality.
My gardening friend Claire has written about cover crops, as they are essential in seasonal planting for edible gardens. But, the only things I’m harvesting from my garden right now are a few foraged apples and some woody herbs.
My garden goals are simple and steady – and improving the soil is my main priority. To update concerned readers, the scaffolding is for roof repairs, and the garden boundaries are still wobbly, but the neighbours agree with replacing them.
Green manure are like superheroes for soil health. Bare soil invites weeds, which is why weeds appear. Yet by sowing vigorous crops, you can control weeds, attract pollinators, shelter beneficial insects, and fix nitrogen.
Cover crops aren’t always showy – though some, like lupins ‘Blue Sonet’ and a flowering legume, have lovely blooms – but their purpose is to grow vigorously rather than be admired. After they’ve grown, you can turn them under, chop them for mulch, or let them decompose for worms to pull down. The real magic happens underground.
Autumn is perfect for sowing these overwintering crops. I’ve chosen rye grass, which breaks up heavy earth, a nitrogen-lifter, vetch, and field beans.
There’s satisfaction in sowing something knowing it’s temporary – on the surface, anyway.
