It was much too windy for comfort in the plant centre, though I suppose it would have been more uncomfortable in the middle of the North Sea, or half way across the Thames estuary. I was reduced to holding some plants upright with one hand, while directing water into the pot with the other. Ornamental displays toppled like bowling pins, and my colleague gave up and cleared some tables completely, which was probably a good move.
A combination of wind, light rain and general greyness kept the customers away for the first part of the morning, and by half past eleven we were barely scraping into three figures at the till, but things picked up from late morning to mid afternoon, and ended up better than they could have been.
The boss finally printed the labels for most of the shrubs that were delivered yesterday (or at least got the woman who works in the office to do it), just after rain had wetted all the foliage so that the pre-emergent herbicide we use on the surface of the compost could stick to the leaves as well. He didn't do the labels for my colleague over on The Other Side, but he did apologise to her for not doing them. It's the little things that count.
My other colleague from The Other Side had brought a box of homemade ginger shortbread for the staffroom. It was absolutely delicious, and my packet of Happy Shopper custard creams, bought for 45p at the garage when I got petrol, remained unopened for a second day. I'll know my co-workers are really hungry when those go.
I nipped down the garden in my lunchbreak to admire the Eucryphia x nymansensis 'Nymansay', since customers and colleagues alike kept telling me it was fantastic. It is a good tree, generously covered in large white single flowers with prominent stamens, which were in turn covered in bees. It is of medium height, taller than broad, fast growing and evergreen, which would make it an almost perfect garden tree if it were not a touch on the tender side, and require sun on its top but reliable moisture at the roots. It is however said to be much easier to grow than any of the other members of the species. I have a plan to plant one in the corner of the wood at home, but this is contingent on removing several Rhododendron ponticum stumps, which is no small task.
The gardeners take delivery of a digger tomorrow to remove the honey fungus infested stumps. I actually have the day off, but they've got it for next week as well, so I won't miss the fun.
Showing posts with label honey fungus. Show all posts
Showing posts with label honey fungus. Show all posts
Thursday, 11 August 2011
Tuesday, 9 August 2011
day two in the plant centre
Switching on the radio in the kitchen at twenty past six this morning, I deduced from the fact that the news was covering a story about the failure of US policy to support job creating businesses, that the riots had not escalated overnight. Watching last night's live TV cover of the flames spreading through the Croydon furniture store, with never a fire engine in sight as the fire ran out of control, was quite surreal. Though for students of London history the only true novelty was the real-time aerial view. Amanda Vickery's fascinating programme of tales from the Old Bailey looked at rioting just a couple of weeks ago. The mob ye have always with ye. Human nature doesn't change that quickly, even if the young nowadays do possess more electronics than put the first man on the moon, and believe that potatoes grow on trees.
Yesterday's wind had dried things out considerably at work, and meant that we couldn't run any of the automatic irrigation overnight. There were a lot of fallen pots to pick up this morning, and only two of us working in the plant centre, and we hadn't quite finished the watering by the time the first customers arrived. Two of them very nearly got soaked when the automatics in the herbaceous section started up, but fortunately managed to skip out of the way in time. The fact that we were a lot wetter than they were also mollified them.
The gardener has been removing trees this week that have succumbed to honey fungus. This disease is a risk to any garden, and in one that has been in cultivation for over a hundred years is probably almost bound to strike somewhere. The boss is admirably philosophical about it, saying it's a pity to lose them, but it's a chance to plant new things and he'll try something fungus resistant in their place. Styrax was mentioned. Two of the casualties are good sized acers, a snakebark and a nice specimen of A. vitifolium which I always liked, but it can't be helped.
The boss has an odd habit of meeing suppliers and contractors in the back of the shop, instead of the house. Yesterday's visitor was a salesman the boss knew, who has recently moved to a new firm dealing in pet supplies including bird food. They spent most of the time actually talking about chickens, discussing breeds, auto-sexing chicks, methods of hatching eggs, and treatments for scaly leg. Today it was somebody who must be allowed to shoot muntjac on the farm, and the talk was of deer routes, where to put towers on which to watch and wait, gun in hand, the difficulties of stopping children playing on the towers, and the impracticability of shooting deer from horseback. It was all timeless and oddly soothing. Generations of Suffolk men have sat discussing poultry and hunting (though not muntjac given they were only introduced to the UK in 1925).
We were given the pet food literature to compare margins with those on bird food from our existing supplier. The new firm's leaflet didn't make it clear which prices were inc. and which ex. VAT, and when I rang them up the person who answered the phone didn't know, and by close of play nobody had rung me back. I found out the answer (or at least an answer) by calling the salesman on his mobile. The potential new supplier offers lower prices to us, and suggests lower selling prices which would give us a lower percentage margin and smaller absolute mark-up. This might or might not work to our disadvantage depending on the price elasticity of bird food.
Travelling home, the drawback of having to cross the main railway line was again brought home to me as the underpass was shut, leaving all traffic to go over the level crossing. Between trains. The queue had backed up a good mile across the marshes, and I began to wish that I hadn't not bothered to stop for petrol the previous evening, as the Skoda's indicated range was down to 55 miles. The tank and gauge seem curiously non-linear in slow traffic, and 55 miles can drop down to 20 in a lot less than 35 miles. I was caught at the top of the ramp to cross the line by the barriers going down again. Once they lifted and I switched the engine back on I revved it ostentatiously (which is unlike me) to reassure myself that it would lift me up the last few feet and over the line without stalling on the tracks.
Addendum The Systems Administrator has an idea for controlling rioters, which is to spray them with pig slurry. Not high pressure water cannon that knock people off their feet, just hoses of stinking ordure. The theory is that you exploit the Yuk factor, since once rioters and looters have slurry dripping down their faces, running around throwing missiles at the police or anything else won't seem fun, and anything you steal will be ruined, not to mention unsellable. Detection ought to be easier for the next couple of days as well. The S.A. is a fan of the Goon Show, and this idea does seem to owe something to Rice Puddings Shot from Catapults. It is almost a joke, except that it might even work.
Yesterday's wind had dried things out considerably at work, and meant that we couldn't run any of the automatic irrigation overnight. There were a lot of fallen pots to pick up this morning, and only two of us working in the plant centre, and we hadn't quite finished the watering by the time the first customers arrived. Two of them very nearly got soaked when the automatics in the herbaceous section started up, but fortunately managed to skip out of the way in time. The fact that we were a lot wetter than they were also mollified them.
The gardener has been removing trees this week that have succumbed to honey fungus. This disease is a risk to any garden, and in one that has been in cultivation for over a hundred years is probably almost bound to strike somewhere. The boss is admirably philosophical about it, saying it's a pity to lose them, but it's a chance to plant new things and he'll try something fungus resistant in their place. Styrax was mentioned. Two of the casualties are good sized acers, a snakebark and a nice specimen of A. vitifolium which I always liked, but it can't be helped.
The boss has an odd habit of meeing suppliers and contractors in the back of the shop, instead of the house. Yesterday's visitor was a salesman the boss knew, who has recently moved to a new firm dealing in pet supplies including bird food. They spent most of the time actually talking about chickens, discussing breeds, auto-sexing chicks, methods of hatching eggs, and treatments for scaly leg. Today it was somebody who must be allowed to shoot muntjac on the farm, and the talk was of deer routes, where to put towers on which to watch and wait, gun in hand, the difficulties of stopping children playing on the towers, and the impracticability of shooting deer from horseback. It was all timeless and oddly soothing. Generations of Suffolk men have sat discussing poultry and hunting (though not muntjac given they were only introduced to the UK in 1925).
We were given the pet food literature to compare margins with those on bird food from our existing supplier. The new firm's leaflet didn't make it clear which prices were inc. and which ex. VAT, and when I rang them up the person who answered the phone didn't know, and by close of play nobody had rung me back. I found out the answer (or at least an answer) by calling the salesman on his mobile. The potential new supplier offers lower prices to us, and suggests lower selling prices which would give us a lower percentage margin and smaller absolute mark-up. This might or might not work to our disadvantage depending on the price elasticity of bird food.
Travelling home, the drawback of having to cross the main railway line was again brought home to me as the underpass was shut, leaving all traffic to go over the level crossing. Between trains. The queue had backed up a good mile across the marshes, and I began to wish that I hadn't not bothered to stop for petrol the previous evening, as the Skoda's indicated range was down to 55 miles. The tank and gauge seem curiously non-linear in slow traffic, and 55 miles can drop down to 20 in a lot less than 35 miles. I was caught at the top of the ramp to cross the line by the barriers going down again. Once they lifted and I switched the engine back on I revved it ostentatiously (which is unlike me) to reassure myself that it would lift me up the last few feet and over the line without stalling on the tracks.
Addendum The Systems Administrator has an idea for controlling rioters, which is to spray them with pig slurry. Not high pressure water cannon that knock people off their feet, just hoses of stinking ordure. The theory is that you exploit the Yuk factor, since once rioters and looters have slurry dripping down their faces, running around throwing missiles at the police or anything else won't seem fun, and anything you steal will be ruined, not to mention unsellable. Detection ought to be easier for the next couple of days as well. The S.A. is a fan of the Goon Show, and this idea does seem to owe something to Rice Puddings Shot from Catapults. It is almost a joke, except that it might even work.
Friday, 21 January 2011
the mysterious death of 'Paul's Scarlet'
I have finally finished removing the stump of the dead Crataegus laevigata 'Paul's Scarlet'. It took all of this afternoon and half of yesterday, and was one of those unappealing jobs I should have done last year, when it died. I am gently baffled that even after exhuming the remains I can't really say what it died of.
It was planted in February 2001, after I'd spent several years admiring specimens at The Chelsea Flower Show. Hilliers and Notcutts both used to be very keen on them. The flowers are red, and double so you don't get any fruit. Our tastes sometimes change in gardening, and if I were choosing a tree now it wouldn't be that one, so I should be grateful that mine has saved me from my previous error of judgement by quitting the scene. It was planted as a relatively young thing, only about 1.2m high, and until last year grew vigorously. It did turn out not to be at all root-firm, and leant out into the drive where I park my car, and required a prop, and once tempted a dreadful man who was supposed to be looking after the house while we were on holiday to prune it hideously, but apart from that it did very well. I have read that 'Paul's Scarlet is often not root-firm when young. Last summer, in the space of a few days, the leaves began to curl inwards, then went brown at the edges, then brown all over and remained on the tree, which is generally a bad sign. We cut the top growth off leaving a bit at the base to act as a lever for getting the stump out.
I should have got the stump out at once, especially as honey fungus had to be considered as a possible cause of death. When an established woody plant dies that suddenly catastrophic root failure is highly likely to be involved. The garden doesn't show any definite signs of virulent honey fungus infestation, but you never know. I didn't tackle it at once, because it was very dry at the time and the ground was too hard, and then I had lots of other urgent things to do, and it is human nature to postpone your least favourite tasks, and I wasn't convinced it was honey fungus. It was growing close (too close) to a Mahonia x media, a Chaenomeles and a cut-leafed elder which all looked absolutely fine. A colleague suggested that maybe the graft had failed.
Growing close to so many neighbours and next to the oil tank meant that swinging the axe and the pickaxe at the remains wasn't an option. I dug round the stump, sawed through the roots, traced each back as far as possible and wrenched it out, and by heaving the stump back and forth (this is why you must not cut the trunk off at ground level) eventually got that out too. Sawing at roots in the bottom of a hole is hard on the back, and the cats had been using the bed as a handy latrine (maybe 'Paul's Scarlet' died of cat crap poisoning?). Even Pollyanna could not have convinced herself that it was a fun gardening job.
The smaller roots had all vanished, so something bad had gone on down there. There was some white mycelium between bark and wood on the remaining roots, which the RHS would say was conclusive proof of honey fungus, though it wasn't as thick as a mushroom skin. I didn't find any bootlaces, or any mycelium on the trunk. But honey fungus varies a lot in its ability to kill. Some strains are virulently pathogenic, some only attack dead or dying plants. I still don't know whether what I found was the cause of death, or arrived after something else had delivered the coup de grace. I've found it in the past sometimes, but only on things that I was fairly sure had died of other causes, either drought or cold. I could send some roots for analysis to the RHS, but I think I'll just take them to the tip. I'm not sure I want the garden to be screened for something for which there is no cure. Better to go on in ignorance and hope.
It was planted in February 2001, after I'd spent several years admiring specimens at The Chelsea Flower Show. Hilliers and Notcutts both used to be very keen on them. The flowers are red, and double so you don't get any fruit. Our tastes sometimes change in gardening, and if I were choosing a tree now it wouldn't be that one, so I should be grateful that mine has saved me from my previous error of judgement by quitting the scene. It was planted as a relatively young thing, only about 1.2m high, and until last year grew vigorously. It did turn out not to be at all root-firm, and leant out into the drive where I park my car, and required a prop, and once tempted a dreadful man who was supposed to be looking after the house while we were on holiday to prune it hideously, but apart from that it did very well. I have read that 'Paul's Scarlet is often not root-firm when young. Last summer, in the space of a few days, the leaves began to curl inwards, then went brown at the edges, then brown all over and remained on the tree, which is generally a bad sign. We cut the top growth off leaving a bit at the base to act as a lever for getting the stump out.
I should have got the stump out at once, especially as honey fungus had to be considered as a possible cause of death. When an established woody plant dies that suddenly catastrophic root failure is highly likely to be involved. The garden doesn't show any definite signs of virulent honey fungus infestation, but you never know. I didn't tackle it at once, because it was very dry at the time and the ground was too hard, and then I had lots of other urgent things to do, and it is human nature to postpone your least favourite tasks, and I wasn't convinced it was honey fungus. It was growing close (too close) to a Mahonia x media, a Chaenomeles and a cut-leafed elder which all looked absolutely fine. A colleague suggested that maybe the graft had failed.
Growing close to so many neighbours and next to the oil tank meant that swinging the axe and the pickaxe at the remains wasn't an option. I dug round the stump, sawed through the roots, traced each back as far as possible and wrenched it out, and by heaving the stump back and forth (this is why you must not cut the trunk off at ground level) eventually got that out too. Sawing at roots in the bottom of a hole is hard on the back, and the cats had been using the bed as a handy latrine (maybe 'Paul's Scarlet' died of cat crap poisoning?). Even Pollyanna could not have convinced herself that it was a fun gardening job.
The smaller roots had all vanished, so something bad had gone on down there. There was some white mycelium between bark and wood on the remaining roots, which the RHS would say was conclusive proof of honey fungus, though it wasn't as thick as a mushroom skin. I didn't find any bootlaces, or any mycelium on the trunk. But honey fungus varies a lot in its ability to kill. Some strains are virulently pathogenic, some only attack dead or dying plants. I still don't know whether what I found was the cause of death, or arrived after something else had delivered the coup de grace. I've found it in the past sometimes, but only on things that I was fairly sure had died of other causes, either drought or cold. I could send some roots for analysis to the RHS, but I think I'll just take them to the tip. I'm not sure I want the garden to be screened for something for which there is no cure. Better to go on in ignorance and hope.
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