I am of course unfairly comparing this spring to the spring of last year, which felt like summer while this year’s is one of the coldest on record. As I mentioned in the very first post I did for this blog, we should avoid falling into the trap of thinking there is any such thing as a normal season. In any case, where do these ‘normal’ seasons come from? Can anyone remember a season in any recent year that was consistently normal?

To some extent the notion of normal seasons comes through selective memory. I used to think that my childhood winters were always snow-covered, but the truth is I probably only remember those few days in winter when it did snow, as I associate them with happy memories of throwing snowballs and making snowmen, while the non-snowy days have naturally faded from memory. Similarly, when I think back to particularly good summers, I tend to remember just the two or three weeks of decent weather that year, perhaps backed-up with the memory of a sunny barbecue. All in all, I wonder how much of our perception of normal seasons is based on nostalgia, including scenes from classic movies or chapters from Enid Blyton books (I mean the Famous Five, not Noddy, that would be weird).

Ah, you might say, but what about seasonal averages? Once again, it is not unreasonable to suggest that normal seasons only exist on paper, based on averages. If in a ten year period you have five unusually cold winters and five unusually warm winters, these may average out as a ten year period of normal winters (though I would hope the clever weather boffins at the top take these things into account), that’s the nature of averages. The last four winters in the UK, for example, have all been way off the seasonal averages (either too hot or too cold), at what point should we stop thinking of these as abnormal occurrences?

Then again, we shouldn’t blame the experts, the weather people themselves just work with the stats, it’s their job to work out averages – it’s our fault for then interpreting these averages as equating some mythical ‘normal’ season. This is all very fine for trivial conversation which we Brits are so good at, the problem comes when parts of the economy starts relying on the seasonal weather remaining ‘normal’. The real crime of perpetrating the myth of seasons is when we create unreasonable expectations, such as expecting good harvests each year based on this ‘normal’ seasonal weather. The UK weather is like the modern-day economy, in that both are volatile and changeable but also full of people who think they can predict them. And of course a bad harvest these days is no big problem, but for the unfortunate farmers who go bankrupt. While in the past a bad harvest meant a winter of hunger or possibly famine, now it simply means having to import more food from elsewhere. How lucky we are! But the downside is that this safety measure has made us increasingly careless about the food we grow in this country and our understanding of the seasons.

I don’t know anything about farming, so I can’t comment on that, but as far as growing food in gardens goes we ought to just accept that the UK weather is volatile and always has been. Normal seasons are a myth! At the risk of sounding naive, let’s just be grateful for what we get each year, rather than complain about what we should get based on seasonal averages.

 Step one: GROW CRESS AND MUSTARD

This may seem like a bit of a childish activity, but if you’ve never grown food before this is a good way to start, as it is both instructive and rewarding. Cress is one of the easiest and cheapest things to grow, and you’ll be enjoying what you grow within ten days. Buy a small packet of cress seeds, sprinkle some of them onto a wet paper towel in a small tray or shallow container. Cover loosely with paper or card, or place in a dark place for the first day or two. After just 24 hours you’ll see the seeds already begin to germinate, after two days, once you can tell apart root and stem uncover or move them to a well-lit spot, making sure to keep the paper towel moist. After a week or two they will be fully grown and ready to pick to add to salads, soups or sandwiches. You can then keep growing more of it. Have several small trays growing cress in a rotation so you can harvest some every two or three days. Try the same with mustard seeds. Maintaining several trays growing in rotation is like managing a tiny garden, so it’s good preparation for the real thing.

 Step two: POT PLANTING

Right, enough of the warm-up, let’s get planting. You’ll need a small bag of soil, suitable for growing food; a few pots for planting, either genuine or using recycled rubbish; and some seeds. What seeds to get? We want something cheap and cheerful, and all the better if you can get them straight from a vegetable.

Edible things you can grow in pots include radishes, nasturtium, basil (and other herbs from seed), tomatoes, carrots, garlic, lettuce, chard and spinach, amongst others. Unless the seed packet says otherwise, just poke a shallow hole in the soil, pop a seed in and cover lightly. Remember to water it gently at first so as not to wash off the top layer of soil and the seed! Radish seeds are cheap to buy, they grow reliably and fairly quickly and don’t require a large pot (a trusty Pot Noodle will do). The garlic and leafy plants can start off in something small and later be repotted into a bigger pot (or an old ice cream tub?) to give the roots more space; use old garlic cloves from your cupboard that have started sprouting. Tomatoes will probably require the most time and effort to grow, and are best repotted into a genuine pot to give it maximum space and support to develop. Furthermore, unless kept outdoors, you will probably need to pollinate the tomato flowers by hand, or have a few bees around for dinner (most modern tomato varieties can be pollinated using their own pollen, but they still need help with the actual pollination).

As mentioned in the last post, START SMALL. If you get too enthusiastic from the very start and have ten pots growing at once you may find you don’t have the time, energy or space to look after them all. So just try one or two to start with and take it from there, letting it gradually become part of your routine. Over time lookup information on the plants and try growing other small vegetables in pots. You’re not trying to live off the land yet, so be bold and experimental. Make mistakes, watch them die, get over it, and start again. Learn from this, take your time and enjoy yourself.

Admittedly, these babies are not going to see you through the winter, end world hunger or even win any prizes at your local flower and produce show. Does it matter? No. Why? Because at least you are doing, which is a lot more than some people can claim. Even if in one year of your busy life you only manage to grow one radish and a basil plant, it’s still better than just talking about it. The added advantage is that you can grow food in pots just about anywhere that receives adequate daylight, so you don’t even need a garden. If you have kids, you get to teach them something very valuable about food – a small lesson, but one that will hopefully stay with them. Unlike tending to a whole garden, it costs virtually nothing both in terms of time and money. So give it a try, grow a radish, it will take pride of place on your dinner plate.

In the next part we’ll finally start looking at the garden!

I can’t be too critical of gardening experts, me being an ignorant amateur who accidentally ended up running an organic garden. But in my short time experimenting with growing food – with reasonable success – I have stuck with this simple rule: Growing food is about growing food, pure and simple. It’s not about crop rotation, it’s not about sustainability, it’s not about bla bla bla – these are all just additional extras. When you get a child to plant their first radish, chickpea or even cress, you certainly don’t start telling them about soil acidity or the embryonic dormancy phase of seeds (unless you’re aiming to put them off gardening for life). Simply put, a good way to start learning to grow food is to JUST PLANT SOMETHING AND SEE WHAT HAPPENS.

Still, here is a more specific guide for getting prepared. Apologies to anyone who thinks the next section is too simplistic, but I’ve seen people in London who barely know what a vegetable is, and so this guide is designed to give anyone a chance to have a go, no matter how little experience they have.

Step One: DECIDE YOU WANT TO DO THIS.

This may seem an odd one to start with, but what I mean is ask yourself: Why do you want to grow food? Is it to learn a new skill? To save money? To save the planet? To impress a girl or guy? Or is it just for fun? Those are all good reasons – except the second one. If you want to grow food to save money, then think again. As I mentioned in a recent post, when you tally in the cost and effort, growing food at home rarely comes out cheaper than market prices. If you want to save money, you can probably find a dozen other luxuries you can cut down on (booze, ciggies, magazines, petrol, crappy electronic gadgets with a fruit logo on the back, etc.).

Next, ask yourself: Do you really have the time and dedication to try this, or is it a passing whim that will die down after a week? A good test is to wait a week and see if you still want to do it. I’m not trying to be flippant, I’m just trying to save you time, money and effort. Some people get very excited about the idea of planting something and later eating it, but they are not so keen on the long bit in between which inconveniently constitutes 99% the food growing process, watching that little plant grow oh-so-slowly yet still requiring water, light and associated TLC.

Step Two: START SMALL AND CHEAP.

One of the frustrating things about getting started with growing food is dealing with the initial expenses and preparation. Gardening books generally come with an equipment list as long as the Nile, the total cost of which would bankrupt Rupert Murdoch. Not only can this expense be both daunting and a strain on one’s finances, but it can also make the beginner think twice about starting up; after all, why buy all that equipment if you’re not even sure you’re going to keep this up for more than a few days? There is also the annoying inconvenience that gardening in most cases tends to require a garden, something that not everyone in the UK is blessed with.

Here are a few ways to keep costs down when getting started:

1) Don’t use the garden (yet).

There’s plenty of things you can grow indoors in little pots to begin with. These will serve as a good test both of your resolve and skills, as well as give you a leisurely start to this hobby without already having to stress about things like weeds or the weather.

2) Don’t buy gardening books.

Just tell your friends and relatives you are going to try to grow food and they will probably get you all the books you need for Christmas or your birthday (probably grateful of the fact they know what to get you). In fact, be prepared for at least one of your relatives to keep giving you gardening books for the rest of your life (there’s always one); if you are lucky they might even get you some gardening equipment, which would be a bonus. In the meantime, for information use the internet, support your local library or visit your local community garden.

3) Avoid gardening shops.

Gardening shops are ideal for experienced gardeners who know what they are after, and huge gardening centers do offer a great selection of equipment, plants, seeds, etc., but their prices can be deceptively expensive. As for the small, supposedly specialized gardening shops you sometimes come across in random places (or very middle-class shopping districts), they are often the worst offenders when it comes to ripping people off; I know it’s good to support independent businesses, but some of them do just take the piss. So, without having been paid to say this, go to a shop like Wilkinson’s where you will generally find the gardening basics you need at cheap prices. You can make all your early mistakes with that stuff before deciding to upgrade. There are of course benefits to buying the right equipment, first of all it does test your resolve a little bit, but without driving you out onto the streets; secondly tools and equipment do require some level of quality. This doesn’t mean you should buy a ridiculously over-priced and over-engineered spade that was designed by NASA scientists (I only exaggerate slightly), but neither should you buy a £1.99 excuse for a spade made of a metal so bendy it makes cream cheese look like solid steel. There is a balance to be struck.

4) Recycle rubbish.

I bet your bin is full of small plastic containers that came with the food you bought (instant noodle pots, yoghurt pots, ready salad boxes, etc.), so why buy a set of plant pots when you can reuse those? Poke a few holes at a bottom of an empty Pot Noodle and behold! You now have a plant pot.

5) Save your principles for later.

Controversial one. You will make mistakes at the beginning (such as over-watering or under-watering), that’s a given, so would you rather make mistakes with a cheap packet of seeds and soil and a recycled Pot Noodle (total cost £2), or with an expensive packet of organic-super-plus-luxury seeds and mightier-than-though fair-trade soil and a terracotta pot made by your local artisan (total cost £20+)? IDEALLY, we want to work our way toward growing food organically, but that doesn’t mean we can’t do so gradually. Just do make sure the soil you buy is suitable for food growing (check on the packet).

Step three: GET AN EDIBLE PLANT.

Before trying to grow a plant from seed, it helps to check if you can keep an existing one alive. Buy one or two herb plants, something simple, sturdy and pest free like rosemary or sage. DO NOT, DO NOT, DO NOT buy it from a supermarket, no matter how cheap it is, as most supermarket herb plants are artificially boosted and designed to die soon after you get it home (shame on them). This is a case where you can afford to visit a garden centre, you should find decent herb plants there for about £3, give or take. Find a good spot for it at home, depending on the plant, either indoors or outdoors. Ask at the shop for advice, or check the net. Keep the plant alive and healthy, use its leaves for your dishes or to make herbal tea, learning not to overuse it. If aphids attack then learn how to deal with them.

That’ll do for now. Enjoy the plant and learn from it. If it dies, it dies; you’ll learn from that too. Next we’ll look at actually planting things.

We’ve been sowing seeds in trays over the past few weeks, in the hope of transplanting them in late April. BUT that (CENSORED) of a mouse Jerry has been digging into the seed-sowing trays, eating the peas, pumpkin and cucumber seeds. I have recently installed hanging trays in the shed in the hope that Jerry can’t get to them, and laid yet more traps to catch him once and for all. Failing that I am thinking of taking out a contract with a hit-mouse, or perhaps hiring some mousenaries to hunt him down (the jokes just keep getting worse).

To prepare for planting we have been mulching the empty beds using plastic sheets, especially covering last year’s fallow bed after turning the soil over, which will resume service this month, leaving last year’s beetroot bed to lie fallow this year.

In preparation for sowing we also completely rebuilt the old garden hot-box for seedlings, making it sturdier than ever, in the hope of freeing up shelf-space in the shed. To be extra flash we added a frontal window to the box so that it would make the most of the morning sunlight. Foam pipe insulators were added help seal the edges of the perspex lid, but can be removed to provide extra ventilation.

Although it has been getting sunnier lately it the weather remains quite cold. But still, it is good to see the winter come to an end. We did some good work over the winter, especially taking satisfaction in doing some proper manual work with hammer and nails, repairing the compost bins, the shed door and the beds, and rebuilding the hot box. Speaking for myself, these are the kind of jobs that you just feel like staring at once you are done, taking pride in the fact you have built something with your own hands.

But now is Spring and a time for planting! We so far have beetroot, peas and tomato plants growing in pots, ready to transplant in the near future. We have also sown some carrots, cauliflowers and peppers, and resown some more pumpkin and cucumber seeds (hopefully Jerry-proofed). Because we use soil made on-site from compost, we noticed that the resulting soil is not quite suitable for sowing. The large chicken wire sifter we usually use produces soil that is suitable for the garden beds, but still too lumpy for the delicate little seeds we were sowing in tiny trays. Fellow CG member Leonardo tried sifting the soil in a pasta strainer, but it proved too laborious. Inspired by his attempt, we finally resolved the problem by leaving some soil to dry in the shed and then sifting it through a straw hat we had in the shed. It produces a fine powdery soil that is perfect for the sowing trays.

I have to confess that in spite of taking on a second undergraduate degree and agreeing in my final year to run a community garden, I am actually a rather lazy person at heart. Today being Easter Sunday, opening the garden as usual, I was expecting it to be a solo effort, and I was fully prepared to sit by the rocket stove for four hours drinking nettle tea and eating hot-cross buns with jam. Luckily the unexpected arrival of three CG members encouraged me to get off my ass and organize doing some work. And so today we sifted some more soil, drew up a watering rota, did a little weeding, replanted the yarrow and marshmallow plants in the ‘med bed’ and sowed more seeds in trays – leeks, artichoke, and “Japanese huh?” . . . I should explain. Over the past few weeks, workers at a nearby Japanese restaurant have been kindly donating some of their organic vegetable waste for our compost bin (thank you very much – どうもありがとう!). Earlier this week one of them came by with more compost, as well as a small tray of seeds for me. She mentioned the Japanese name of the edible plant the seeds came from, which I repeated to myself three times in order to memorize it and then promptly forgot. And so today I sowed some of these seeds in a tray, and for the time being have decided to call them “Japanese, huh?” until such a time I can identify it.

With that kind of attention to detail, it’s a miracle that anything grows here, but all in all we seem to be doing quite well. Thank God it’s Spring.

Happy Easter!

I’m having some more trouble with Jerry mouse, but more about that at a later time…

Today several water companies in the UK have imposed a hosepipe ban, due to the severe drought we’re going through. It’s no joke, either. As I mentioned in the last post, I’ve been doing a lot of commuting on foot in the past year, and that has in part been made possible by the fact that it has hardly rained at all. Sure, we’ve had the occasional heavy showers, but what we’ve lacked is a prolonged period of rain, long enough to make us Brits properly moan about the weather – an important part of what makes us British.

Ever since Dinwiddy House kindly installed a tap on the garden grounds I’ve been meaning to buy a new connector to attach the hose to it . . . but I won’t bother now, not for a time at least. I have ordered a second water butt to connect to our current water barrel collecting rain running off the shed roof. The ban will not be a huge problem for us, the garden is small enough to water with a watering can, and even if that proves slower and more laborious it only helps remind us that running water is a luxury we don’t half take for granted.

The ban has got lots of people talking and moaning about it, with particular ire directed toward the water companies. It’s with good reason too – some water companies lose up to a quarter of their water through leaking pipes, and yes, the filthy-rich bastards should be doing more (i.e.: spending more) to fix this problem. BUT, it’s just a guess, BUT I am willing to bet that another quarter of our water is easily lost through general misuse and wastage by us common folk (including me). There are people with the annoying habit of flushing the toilet both before and after using it. Then there’s those who use a full cycle on their washing machines to clean just one or two items of clothing. And ban or no ban, I’m sure there will still be some prized a-holes who will resolutely use thousands of litres of water to wash their ugly, over-priced cars, when a bucket and sponge would do just as well. These are extreme examples, if still common, but most of us have little bad habits when it comes to using tap water. We love blaming the people at the top, but the truth is we are all to blame. And then, of course, come the excuses: “Don’t you know how busy I am?!” “I have three kids!” “It’s my right!” etc.

The trouble is water is a finite resource, and when it starts running low Mother Nature doesn’t give a rat’s ass about people’s excuses, reasons or rights. The water just starts running low. That’s when we really start to learn. Yes there is still plenty of water around, but the real problem is treating it fast enough to meet demand. I’ve been in a few forays in the woods in the past year where I have had to drink stream water. To make the water safe to drink I had to boil it first, which takes a surprising amount of effort to make up the 2-3 litres needed on a daily basis. At times like these I learnt to appreciate the value of water and tried not to waste a single drop of anything I had already sterilised.

Fixing pipes and reducing wastage aside, several solutions are being suggested for dealing with growing water shortages: higher bills, water meters, transporting water via pipelines, desalinization plants, etc. All these would probably help, but with the global population continuing to grow, water wastage ever-increasing, and a weakening infrastructure of water distribution based on profit instead of efficiency, water shortages are probably only going to get worse over the next few decades.

So today is a very good day to start learning to do with less.

I live in zone 3 of London, on the Piccadilly line. Back in April of last year, in an attempt to save money on my tube fare, I started getting off two stops early at Caledonian road in zone 2, walking the remaining 2 miles to university. To do this I gave up using the student Oyster card and reverted to a normal pay-as-you-go type. This saves me about £30 to £40 each month.

My original intentions were mainly economic, but I found great benefits in walking those extra 4 miles per day. I feel healthier and my legs have gained strength. The walk is also a good time-out from my studies, allowing me to reflect on other things in my life. It’s just the kind of opportunity for idleness that one could easily waste by plugging into their Ipod and putting their brain in standby mode (and then get hit by that bus you didn’t hear coming).

Out of interest, from the time I started this new commuting method, I also began clocking the distance I covered as a way of motivating myself, counting any walking journey of one kilometer or more (I am a metric man at heart). In the last ten months, I have walked over 900 miles in this way. I wouldn’t say I’ve been pushing myself, either, and the more I walk the easier and more enjoyable it becomes.

On occasion I walk the whole distance home, just over seven miles. The first time I did so I ended up on the final mile feeling like my legs were about to fall off, but now I do this regularly, sometimes without planning to, just feeling the need to walk a little further. This also helps make up for those days of heavy rain when I take the tube the whole way and pay full fare; I may be odd but I’m not completely stupid.

This little money-saving ploy, of course, wouldn’t suit everyone, but it is always worth getting to know one’s local area and discovering how close certain places are to each other. It seems that many Londoners still don’t realize that Central London is surprisingly small, and walking from King’s Cross to Victoria, for example, is a vigorous but manageable 5km walk. I know people who take the tube to travel just one stop, but once you take into account the bustle of getting to the platform and waiting for the train, it can at times be just as quick to walk there.

The crucial aspect of relying on walking to get around is understanding that even if you are physically fit you will probably still find it arduous to begin with. Walking the equivalent of 5km a day by ambling around the office is not the same as walking the full distance in one go. Similarly, going for a weekly 10km hike in the hills is not the same as consistently walking long distances every day. When you really start using your leg muscles on a daily basis you will initially feel the strain on your thighs, calves, buttocks, back and especially on your feet, as your body begins to demand its regular pit-stops. Of course, it is wise to listen to your body, but also to push it a little further each day. For this reason, like with any good exercise, it is wise to gradually increase the distances you cross, and a day of rest each week is always a good idea. As the American comedian Paul Reiser once said, we tend to neglect our feet as they are so inconveniently placed on the other end of our bodies. But, trust me, once you really start using your feet you tend to start paying attention to their little aches and pains and learn to apply a little more maintenance and TLC. I’d rather get used to this now while I have the choice than be forced to do so when the options have been reduced – I’m not talking worst case scenario either, but something as mundane as breaking down along an empty road, or missing the last bus after a night out.

As for worst case scenario, if you think I’m exaggerating, you might be right, I hope you’re right, but ever-rising petrol prices affect all transport costs, not just cars. Motorized transport in general is all very nice, but it is increasingly expensive and relies on an infrastructure built around reliable oil delivery and road maintenance. Now I know that some of you are already thinking “what about the bicycle?” Cycling is a wonderful way to get around, but not only do bicycles rely on spare parts and regular maintenance, modern bikes also manage to be both ridiculously expensive whilst at the same time being less reliable and less practical . . . and then some scumbag steals it. Whilst exploring issues of self-sufficiency does not necessarily have to incur extreme scenarios of social collapse or natural disasters (it’s just a hobby for some), author and blogger Dmitry Orlov described in his excellent book ‘Reinventing Collapse’ the main drawback of bicycles in times of greater self-sufficiency:

The most successful form of transportation is by far the bicycle. While there is currently a bicycle for almost every person in the US, these bicycles by and large sit still in garages and basements, rusting and gathering dust. About a tenth of them might still be rideable at any given time. If large numbers of people attempt to start using them, the immediate effect will be a shortage of bicycle tires, which deteriorate due to dry rot. Even if this problem finds a solution, it will soon be discovered that the vast majority of the bicycles are in fact toys designed for sport, not for hauling loads or for the rigors of a daily commute, and most of them will fail within a year of hard daily use.

 From ‘Reinventing Collapse’ by Dmitry Orlov, reproduced with kind permission from the author.
For more related information you can look up his blog: cluborlov.blogspot.com

But let’s take a step back (no pun intended) and stave off the worst-case scenarios and remember the best reasons to take up walking: it’s cheap, healthy and interesting. Places that always seemed out of the way suddenly become accessible, and there are always things to see that you never knew were there. Walking the same path every single day can get a little tedious, but in London that is when you start to explore the dozen or so other paths you can take, exploring new places and finding shortcuts and links you never knew between familiar places. It’s what I like to call going from A to C via Z. There is a great sense of satisfaction to be had from walking down an unfamiliar street and unexpectedly emerging onto a place you know very well. And even if you never actually do walk all the way home, it is always good to have an idea of how to walk it if you had to.

UPDATE 01/03/12: Today I just crossed the thousand mile threshold. That means that in the last eleven months I travelled one thousand miles’ worth of journeys on foot I wouldn’t have normally done had I stuck to public transport all the way, and I’ve saved about £350 in the process. So I’m celebrating that milestone tonight with a well-deserved beer. Cheers y’all!

Following my last post about enjoying the winter – and following a promise I made to CG members some months back – the sudden arrival of snow on Saturday night was a good opportunity to put my money where my mouth is. So while the rest of the capital slowed to a standstill, we got to work building a quinzee.

A quinzee is a type of emergency snow shelter, designed to help keep someone out of the wind and cold (should they be caught out in the snowy open), basically involving pilling up snow and then hollowing it out. If that sounds ridiculously simple, it is easier said than done. For a start, you have a shovel a pile of snow at least four feet tall, and the more snow you shovel onto the pile the further you then have to walk to get some more and carry it back. Any person who has done any kind of sustained shoveling or digging work will know that it is one of those jobs from which you can quickly tell the doers from the talkers. Also, you need to pile the snow reasonably lightly, without packing it down which would create layers within the snow that weaken the overall structure. This can be done by literally throwing the snow onto the pile, which takes yet more shoveling action. Instead of piling snow from the ground up, it is useful to find a bulky item like a rucksack or (in our case) some buckets that you bury under the pile, saving you a lot of shoveling and later digging, and giving you a central space to build on.

Once you have built a suitably big pile of snow you need to let it sit for a few hours, allowing the snow to settle and crystalize together (if you bury your rucksack, make sure you take out your essentials first). For us at CG it was a good time to boil some water in the rocket stove and prepare some soup, using the cabbage leaves from the garden and adding some carrots and parsnips that Tim had kindly brought along. The snow had caused all of the netting to collapse onto the crops, so we had to delicately remove the nets without damaging the plants. In the case of the cabbage, however, it was just a case of ripping off the nets before ripping off the leaves for the pot. Having planted these cabbages in October, it was about time we used them. We drank a little blueberry gin to warm us up before eating the delicious and hearty soup. Then, it was finally time to finish the shelter.

We dug our entrance into the snow pile until reaching the buried buckets, then gently digging around them until they could be removed without collapsing the whole structure. Tim then started digging out the inside space, being careful not to pierce right through the wall. Ideally one needs to plant sticks all over the snow pile, pushing them in by about a foot, allowing the person hollowing it out to know the thickness of the wall, stopping when they reach the end of a stick. With the snow available we had only managed to build a small pile, so we didn’t bother with the sticks, only aiming to create some kind of space to know it works. Call it a test-run for the real thing.

The results, though not perfect, were surprisingly good. The space in the shelter was slightly too small for an adult (good for a child or dog, though), and yet it still offered some shelter, feeling surprisingly warm inside. We then completed the quinzee with makeshift door, made from a disc of ice we took out of the rain barrel. It should be noted that if used in such a way, the quinzee would require a separate air hole added to the top or side opposite the entrance, unless you really want to find out how airtight (and deadly) snow can be.

It may not look like much more than a pile of snow, but we were proud of our quinzee, especially after working in the cold and wet to build it. There is something so real, so great about working in the snow; while so many people take refuge indoors, it felt good to not only work in the cold and snowy outdoors but also to make soup in the middle of it all just to make it look easy.

It is easy, too, once you know how. All you need is a little bit of knowledge, a little bit of resilience, and the will to do it. Just because the snow prevents us from gardening doesn’t mean there isn’t plenty more to learn in the outdoors. I’ve long wanted to build a decent sized quinzee, and thanks to the space in the garden and the kind help of fellow CG members I’ve finally had my wish. The best reward of all is the knowledge of a day well spent, doing something different and memorable, learning something new and burning energy doing it. I shall sleep well tonight . . . in my bed, that is, not in the quinzee.

I notice more and more how we in this country have become afraid of the cold. It’s something that our ancestors really had to deal with, while most of us now just try to avoid it, which is not the same thing. Come autumn I often hear people talk of that lovely smell of impending winter: a slight chill inside the nostrils mixed with the smell of chimney smoke, usually with nostalgic memories of childhood winters thrown in for good measure – childhood being a time when we seem totally impervious to the cold, while our parents would run after us to button up our coats. And yet come proper winter, many of us lock ourselves indoors and start longing for the summer, which itself is the time when we moan about the heat and turn on the air conditioning. Up till now it has been a frustratingly mild winter, but now that the weather has turned cold many of us will crank up the heating ridiculously high so we can still walk around indoors in T-shirts while simultaneously complaining about the cost of heating.

All too often in this country, the weather is neither cold nor warm, just kind of mild and dull most of the time. For this reason I like to fully experience the occasional extremes that grace our shores, be they heat waves or cold snaps, and so on a cold week like this one I like to spend even more time outside, to feel that real chill in the nostril and numbing of the fingers (within reason). There is much to be learnt from the cold, how to dress for it, how to work in it, what it does to you. Last year I lived in a horrible house with no central heating, and come winter I had to go to bed wearing six layers of clothing and using a hot water bottle; and yet not long ago this was common practice in many British homes, as leaving the gas heater on overnight would have seemed an unnecessary expense. I’m glad I no longer live in that house, but I’m still glad I got to experience at least one winter there (still, I wouldn’t recommend it to my worst enemy).

 There is also, of course, a yin and yang aspect to cold and heat, with each giving meaning to the other; being out in the cold makes coming into a warm home all the more pleasant and cosy. This coming Sunday will apparently be even colder. I hope it is. All the more a reason to be in the garden and experience it. If you think this is borderline perverse, it’s perhaps good to remember that few of us in the UK ever experience what it means to be really cold; I don’t just mean a bit chilly, but shivering down to our bones. Even in this country there are people who don’t have the luxury of just turning up the heating: homeless people out in the streets or pensioners living in fuel poverty. We should be grateful for indoor heating, not waste it, and learn how to use less of it more efficiently.

So while the weather is sunny and serene, take advantage of it, wrap up warm in several layers and take a proper walk in the cold. Winter has finally arrived, learn to enjoy it once more.

The article is somewhat flawed in that it gets off on the wrong foot from the very start:

“Mushroom-lovers seeking to beat the credit crunch by growing their own should think again – it could cost more.”
http://www.telegraph.co.uk/earth/earthnews/3354057/Mushroom-kits-Theres-much-room-for-improvement.html

First of all there’s no ‘could’ about it. From mushroom kits that I have seen in shops, the instructions on the side of the box make quite clear the quantities one can expect to produce, and comparing this with the price tag on the box should pose no problem for the average customer: Yes, mushrooms grown with kits will most likely be more expensive. That’s a given.

If mushroom lovers really want to beat the credit crunch, they can start by not eating mushrooms, as mushrooms are a luxury with not much nutritional value (although admittedly delicious).

The revelation that mushroom growing kits won’t save you money should come as no surprise to anyone who has been in a supermarket and understands the concept of economies of scale. In seeking to buy a mushroom growing kit, I never imagined for a second that a 6 by 8 inch tray would ever equate the economies of scale found on a farm, and I seriously hope that no one else would.

And here is another exclusive: growing vegetables in the garden is also usually more expensive than buying them from a supermarket (yes indeed, stop the presses!). If you add in the initial resources, the time and effort involved in growing vegetables at Common Ground, and compare them to the hit-and-miss results that come out, the final price tag would often be the kind you’d expect to find on a menu in a restaurant. 

So why do we do it? I’ve mentioned in an earlier post that the motivations of our members are varied. But speaking more generally, why would anyone want to grow their own food when they can get it more cheaply and easily at the shops?

Food growing is an activity for people who don’t want their food to just come out of a plastic tray on a shelf, people who want to be less dependable on the economy, people who want to learn something about how it is done and how they can do it themselves, gaining practical life skills, and (best of all) people who just want to discover new things and have fun in the process.

Growing food is fun, it’s healthy, it’s an education, it’s a challenge, it makes you appreciate the value of food. On that note, another study by the Grocer magazine also revealed that food prices in the UK are over ten times cheaper than they were 150 years ago (http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/business-16450526). This is not to deny that there are serious and growing problems across the world related to food prices, causing famine, strife and political dissent in parts of Asia, Africa and South America. It should, however, serve as a reminder for people in developed countries to ask themselves whether food prices where they live really are comparatively high or whether they just seem so because we keep spending our money on useless and over-priced crap we don’t really need or can’t really afford.

While the banks may have been responsible for starting the credit crunch, we all played a part in the economic downturn that followed, spending money we didn’t have, believing the gospel of everlasting economic growth.

It’s just a thought, feel free to disagree. In the meantime, I’m looking forward to growing mushrooms this year.

I can only apologise to anyone who has ever been disappointed at turning up to the garden to find there isn’t much work to do. In my defence, I will say that this is quite normal in the winter, and I hope to see them in the Spring when things get busy. But I would also invite them to turn up on such a idle days while they have the chance, to take the time to just appreciate being in the garden, taking a seat, having a cup of tea and just being in the moment.

There is a good yin and yang element to gardening: You get to know when there is a lot of work to do, but also understand that when the work is done it is a good opportunity to sit back and do nothing. In today’s busy world this is almost seen as a crime or an abnormality. Too often, when faced with a free moment, we try or feel forced to fill it with something, be it extra work, social events, going to the gym, etc. For some people with busy jobs and/or family lives it is hard not to do these things, sometimes impossible, as the demands of modern life as well as our responsibilities continue to hound us. Still, one shouldn’t confuse idleness with laziness or distraction.

Tom Hodgkinson of the Idler magazine may or may not agree with me on this, but being lazy is when you can’t be bothered to do something, often shirking your responsibilities in the process, whereas being idle is when you give yourself the time to do nothing in particular, knowing there is nothing else you need to do just then. I do mean doing ‘nothing in particular’, as opposed to just sitting in a chair staring at a blank wall, although one shouldn’t completely discount that activity either. Doing nothing in particular is the very time when you let your mind wander and discover things and surprise yourself. It is a surprisingly non-passive activity, as that is when you out of the blue read War and Peace, learn to knit a scarf or play poker, or turn over a little soil in the garden to plant some onions. You do it not because you have to, but just because you can and suddenly feel like trying it.

Then again, neither should idleness be confused with distraction. In this world of bells and whistles it is easy to amuse ourselves at the touch of a button, with calls, texting, games, streaming news and television on our phones, rarely knowing what boredom is. I’ve never been one to listen to music while on the move outdoors with an Ipod or similar gadget. Not only do I not feel comfortable not being aware of the sounds around me, but I think those gadgets also make people using them look like mindless zombies. I’ve met people barely able to walk fifty yards on their own without resorting to ‘plugging up’ into their music. This is not idleness, but more like switching off your brain and going into standby mode. Mind you it’s easy to judge others, but I’m certainly not immune to distraction either. I love watching TV so much I don’t have one at home, to stop myself wasting too much time watching it. There’s nothing wrong with enjoying some distractions, but to rely on them as a desperate means of avoiding little moments of emptiness seems to take it to unnatural extremes.  Are we that afraid of being left alone with our own minds?

Although I am no expert, my times tarp-camping in the wild have taught me that the daytime is often a long period of furious activity, gathering wood for the fire, constantly purifying water from a stream by boiling it, foraging for food, shelter building, etc., using every minute of daylight available to prepare you for a cold and dark night ahead. But once night falls, and you have your shelter, fire, water and food, then all there is left to do is to just sit there and enjoy the warmth and light of the campfire. This, however, is more than just a romantic notion, it is also an important aspect of both self-sufficiency and survival. In many less developed parts of the world, people who don’t have our luxuries of mass distraction still know the importance of being idle when the moment asks for it. We in the affluent West should all ask ourselves how would we cope if we were stuck somewhere without our phones and Ipods to keep us occupied?

So while there is still time in the garden, I like to enjoy such idle moments, giving respite from my studies, but also from the pressures of everyday life. But every yin needs a yang, and so too much idleness becomes devalued – that really is just being a lazy bastard. But no worries of that in the garden, as when the plants start to thrive in the spring, they will suddenly keep us very busy.