My Childhood Garden Part IV

A Memory of Shamley Green.

If I remember correctly, a white climbing rose grew up one side of the arch and a red on the other. The path continued straight through the archway, and led up the garden to the two wooden sheds at the top of the garden. To the right immediately after the archway, another path led behind the rose-covered trellis, which then turned left and led up alongside a hedge, which divided my parents property from our neighbours. I spent many hours learning to roller-skate along these paths using the metal washing-line pole as my break or the garden broom! The washing-line stretched from just behind the trellised archway right up to the top of the garden, stopping just before the sheds. Each weekend my Mother would wash the family linen in the gas-boiler sited on the red quarry-tiled kitchen floor, and after wringing out the excess water using a mangle, would then peg the whites along the line to blow dry.

The lighting of the gas-boiler was somewhat of an art involving my Mother getting down on her hands and knees with lighted match then turning the gas tap on to light a flame beneath which then heated the water. A loud bang was always heard when successful! My Mother would peg washing out whenever there was the slightest breeze and in colder months often brought in washing that had frozen on the line. The sight of my Fathers shirts with sleeves stiffly outstretched with frost still makes me smile.

Now the vegetable garden, what a haven this was. A large part to the right of the straight path was given over to potatoes. I remember so well walking bare-footed in the cool soft sandy soil spilling in between my toes amongst the runs of potato plants, digging them up carefully to reveal beautiful new potatoes. After being gently cooked were then topped with a slowly melting knob of butter that slid down each side onto the plate and garnished with some common garden mint. Eaten, as part of a main meal or cold in a salad, there has never been anything that tasted so good since. My parents grew a wonderful variety of vegetables carrots, peas, parsnips, onions, sprouts, and cabbages and during the summer months my Mother grew lettuces, tomatoes, marrows and cucumbers. She also grew a variety of herbs; the two I remember her using most being mint and chives. Chives she used to chop finely and sprinkle onto potato salad or float on a chicken soup together with fried cubes of bread there were no croutons to be bought in those days, you simply made your own! Mint my Mother used either fresh on potatoes cooked or cold or made into a sauce that was then liberally spread over roast lamb dinners. She would also make sufficient sauce to last us throughout the winter months until the plants would start growing again the following spring.

My Mother took on the responsibility of growing a variety of runner beans. Early each spring, my Father would erect a crossed trellis of six-foot long bamboo canes to support the vigorous common climbing green runner bean, the flowers of which are red. Greenfly was a common problem and was combated by my parents using a mixture of washing-up liquid in water and then sprayed onto the invading insects. Later, this was then hosed off with clean water washing away the dead greenfly and leaving the beans to continue without further intrusion. The other two varieties of runner beans that my Mother grew were a dwarf variety and soft tender yellow French beans. All three varieties were delicious and so tender. There was something so satisfying and comforting in being able to pick up the metal colander in the kitchen and wander off into the garden and choose ones vegetables for a meal. When I eventually left home, I was never been able to do this ever again except when visiting my parents. The garden I eventually had when married, had thick clay soil and was inhabited by an army of indestructible Neanderthal-minded slugs and snails that possessed a voracious appetite and devoured anything green on sight above and below ground level.

Behind the beans was the treasured strawberry bed. My parents tended these plants with gentle loving care ensuring that we always had a bumper crop of juicy strawberries. To protect the fruit from equally enthusiastic birds, my Father tried using black cotton criss-crossed over the plants tied to little sticks around the perimeter of the bed, as a deterrent. Sadly this trapped and injured too many birds that attempted access to the fruit. Eventually a special strawberry net was purchased and erected over the plants. Unfortunately, the birds were a very determined bunch enticed by the tempting red fruit and many a time I would find usually a female blackbird or starling trapped either in or under the net, which then needed freeing. At least the net did not injure the birds, as the black cotton had and once freed, they would fly off to plot another avenue of access to the inviting fruit!

---

---