April - Episode 1
Welcome to the first of my offerings for April. (The next batch will be posted on the 19th.)
I think April is one of my favourite times of the year. Spring is well and truly with us, with new life burgeoning everywhere, including in the garden.
So what’s coming up this time?
We have:
· my Pollinator Plant of the Month
· the spotlight is on Asparagus
· some jobs to be getting on with
· nature notes – the Cuckoo
· a piece of music by Delius
· latest news
So without further ado, here’s my Pollinator Plant of the Month - Doronicum
Doronicum (common name, Leopard’s Bane) is one of the earliest flowering perennials, bringing cheery yellow flowers to the border in spring, just when pollinators are beginning to forage more regularly.
Many perennials in the daisy family do not tend to flower until much later: Doronicum is an exception, and once the temperature reaches 10°C and above, they start to put on a show.
A bonus is that they flower for several weeks, providing nectar, in particular, over a long period.
Look out for bumblebees – such as the buff-tailed bumblebee and the early bumblebee – as well as honey bees and drone flies, and the occasional butterfly, like the red admiral.
Grow them is sun or part-shade with moist free-draining soil. They’re hardy – classified as H5 by the Royal Horticultural Society which means that they can withstand temperatures down to 15°C in most places in the UK. Propagate them by division in early autumn (unless the variety is subject to Plant Breeder’s Rights).
And why is the common name Leopard’s Bane? Some say it’s because the plant has always been toxic to animals; others say it’s because the tips of arrows were dipped into the toxic juices of a species of Doronicum to hunt leopards. Well, there are no leopards in my neighbourhood, and I don’t think Tiddles from next door is in my sights just yet….
Asparagus
Certain events seem to mark the natural cycle of the year for me: they have become my lodestones. Looking out for the harvest moon is one; the first frost of the winter, another; crocuses heralding the real start of spring (snowdrops are too early); the house martins returning from their winter sojourn. And, of course, the first cut of asparagus.
Asparagus is a perennial plant so new growth will appear each spring after having died down over winter. And it’s this new growth of tender young spears that is so eagerly awaited in our household.
My first recollection of asparagus, however, was not the succulent spears that are best eaten on their own with perhaps just a smidgeon of butter, or at a push, a light vinaigrette. No, my first encounter was in the greenhouse of a friend of my Dad’s who grew carnations and freesias which were packaged up and sent each day to Covent Garden. Andy, my Dad’s friend, (Mr Brundle to me and my sister) grew asparagus for its ferny foliage which seems to complement cut flowers so well. It took me years to realise that the foliage was the result of the spears which had been left to mature.
Even though Andy, sorry Mr Brundle, grew asparagus for its foliage, he never allowed the plants to be stripped entirely. “Decimate, don’t destroy,” he used to say. (Those were the days when decimate meant to take a tenth, of course; its usage has changed over the years.) Leaving a good amount of top growth is vital for the perpetuation of the plant: the foliage feeds the plant during the growing season so that a good crop is available the following year. Which is also true if you grow asparagus for the spears, hence the limited cutting season.
The accepted period for harvesting the spears is for six to eight weeks after the first cut. When the first cut will occur is entirely weather-dependent but it’s generally during April, although you may find some shoots in March. You will be able to enjoy your crop until well into June. Indeed, the British Asparagus Festival in the Vale of Evesham begins on St George’s Day (23 April) and continues until the Summer Solstice.
To harvest the spears you should cut the stem with a sharp knife 2.5 cm below the surface, when they are no more than 18cm tall. Check the bed every morning – they grow at a rate of knots. A word of warning, though: you should not harvest any spears for the first two years after planting: the plant needs to build up a good, strong root system. Having said that, there are some F1 hybrids which, apparently, can be cut the year after planting: you pays your money and you takes your choice.
I suppose I have jumped the gun a little, talking about harvesting before we’ve even planted anything. I’ll return to the starting block. You can grow asparagus from seed but to my mind the best way is to buy crowns, which are one- or two-year-old dormant plants. They are widely available from nurseries and by mail order. You’ll need to prepare your asparagus bed very carefully before planting – these plants will remain for 15 years or more, so it’s as well to get the growing conditions as near perfect as you can at the beginning. Asparagus grows best in an open, sunny site; it will tolerate dappled shade but would far prefer to be exposed to the sun. Soil-wise, it’s not over-fussy about pH, although if you have slightly acidic soil you will need to add some lime. What it really can’t stand is poorly drained soil. Well-drained, verging on sandy soil, is required. And it must be completely free of perennial weeds: if they spring up after you have planted the asparagus you will undoubtedly damage the crowns trying to get the weeds out, no matter how careful you are.
Dig a trench about 30cm wide and 20cm deep and work in a good bucketful of organic matter, such as well-rotted farmyard manure or compost, per square metre into the bottom of the trench. Cover this with about 5cm of the excavated soil. Now make a 10cm high ridge down the centre of the trench and put the plants on the top: if you have bought crowns, spread the spidery roots out either side. Space them about 45cm apart and, if you have more than one row, leave 45cm between the rows. Cover the plants with the rest of the excavated soil so that the tips are just showing above ground, and water them in well.
After you have planted your asparagus, maintenance is pretty straightforward: hand-weed the bed as and when necessary; mulch with compost in late winter; apply 100g per square metre of general fertiliser in early spring; to prevent damage to the crowns, erect a ‘fence’ made of garden twine and stakes either side of the row to support the top-growth in periods of windy weather; cut down yellowed foliage to ground level in autumn. And that’s it!
A word about pests. The most common pests are slugs, snails and asparagus beetle. Deal with the first two as you would anywhere else in the garden. During the growing season, asparagus beetles and larvae can be picked off by hand and destroyed. The adult beetles are about 6-8mm long with six yellow blotches on the wings and a red thorax; the larvae are about 1cm long, are grey-black in colour and have three pairs of legs. Remove and burn any old stems which may be harbouring overwintering beetles at the end of the season.
Varieties
One of the oldest, most well-known, and widely-grown varieties is ‘Connover’s Colossal’ which has been grown since the 1800s. New varieties have been introduced which, arguably, surpass this trusted favourite. I have to admit that my efforts with ‘Connover’s’ fell far short of being colossal but that might have something to do with the fact that I live in the north of England. I have found ‘Guelph Millennium’, a Canadian-bred variety, copes with the cooler climate well. Although I haven’t grown it, there have been good reports about ‘Mondeo’, bred in northern Germany (it’s early and high-yielding), and also 'Gijnlim'. Also worth a try are two purple varieties, ‘Pacific Purple’ and ‘Stewart’s Purple’; both are very sweet, apparently.
Here are some …
Jobs for April
There are lots of seeds that can be sown now. Cucurbits (courgettes, marrows, pumpkins and squashes) can be started indoors ready to be planted out in early summer. As the soil gradually warms up you can sow beetroot, lettuce, spring onions and radish, as well as brassicas (Brussels sprouts, calabrese, cabbage, cauliflower, and broccoli) and carrots outdoors in prepared seedbeds.
Now is the time to plant second-early seed potatoes, followed by maincrops later in the month.
Pot on your tomato, aubergine and pepper seedlings into individual pots, ready to be planted
If your evergreen shrubs have been damaged by frost, cut stems back to just above a healthy bud.
Talking of frost, keep an eye on the weather forecast: even now we could get a late frost – unlikely but not unknown. Be prepared and have some fleece or cloches to hand to protect tender plants if necessary.
As new growth emerges, start stake or support herbaceous perennials: they will be large before you know it!
Nature Notes
When I was knee-high to a grasshopper, way back in the previous century, a common sound around the beginning of April in the woodlands close to where we lived was the call of the cuckoo. It was unmistakable.
I still listen out for it where we live now, but not a dicky-bird, as it were. I’m probably not the only one who can’t detect one – the cuckoo’s decline in population has put it on the 2021 Red List of the UK Birds of Conservation Concern.
If you do manage to hear or see one in the UK, tradition has it that you will hear the first cuckoo on St Tiburtius’s Day, the 14th April.
You may well hear one before or after this date, of course – much depends on where you live. But it will be roughly between late March when the adults arrive from north Africa where they have spent the winter, and August, when they return to Africa. The current season’s youngsters will leave a month or so later.
The cuckoo has inspired composers, poets, and many other artists over the years. Just think of Delius’s tone poem On Hearing the First Cuckoo in Spring (see below). And Kipling implores ‘Cuckoo, bring your song here!’, while Wordsworth rejoices ‘Thrice welcome, darling of the Spring!’.
Humans might be happy to welcome the cuckoo but, if only they knew it, other birds would be quaking in their nests. This is because the cuckoo is a brood parasite and does not raise its own young. Instead, it lays its eggs in the nests of other, unsuspecting, birds – and then just flies away.
The surrogate bird and its own offspring are often much smaller than the cuckoo chick. The latter will muscle the other chicks out of the nest, leaving the poor little ‘parent’ to feed an ever-expanding usurper.
Be that as it may, I’m still hoping to hear that now not-too-familiar call before the month is out.
Music
I used to host a classical music show on our local radio station and one of the joys was being able to choose my own pieces, research them and then share them with my listeners.
I’ve already written about the cuckoo in this batch of articles, so it seemed only appropriate for me to include some snippets about one of my favourite ‘spring’ pieces: On Hearing the First Cuckoo in Spring, by the English composer, Frederick Delius.
The first thing to say is that it’s gentle music – no crashing cymbals or blasting horns here. Imagine taking a stroll in the countryside on a beautiful spring morning, drinking in the atmosphere: the sun is shining and all is calm, peaceful and relaxed. Then, through the quietness you hear a sound. Yes, there it is again – the unmistakable call of a cuckoo.
Delius manages to conjure up all this in his composition which is described as a tone poem or a mood picture. That description perfectly explains what it is – a poem, but not in words, or a picture, but not in paint: it’s in music. And it evokes a certain mood: the one I described above.
He uses a variety of instruments to imitate the cuckoo – including clarinet, oboe and strings – all the time with an expressive backdrop of the softly harmonious orchestra.
He wrote the piece in 1912 and it was first performed a year later in Leipzig: it’s British premier was in 1914. It’s based on a traditional Norwegian folk song called ‘In Ola Valley’, which apparently was brought to Delius’s attention by Percy Grainger – he of ‘English Country Garden’ fame.
If you don’t hear a cuckoo out in the countryside yourself, you can listen to Delius’s beautiful evocation of it – have a look on youtube, there are lots of versions.
News
The long-awaited UK Pesticides National Action Plan has been published.
The Plan says it wants to help growers embrace “nature-friendly farming techniques and alternative measures to reduce potential harm from pesticides by 10% by 2030, while controlling pests and pesticide resistance effectively”.
This is certainly a step in the right direction.
In the meantime, we gardeners can do our bit by working with nature and not against her. Don’t use anything ending in ‘cide’ (from the Latin caedere – to ‘cut down’) in your garden. If every gardener followed this ‘rule’ it would make a huge difference.
And we can lobby local councils to follow our suit with regard to parks, verges and other public spaces.
If you would like to read the Plan in full, go to https://www.gov.uk/government/publications/uk-pesticides-national-action-plan-2025
Results of the UK Butterfly Monitoring Scheme (UKBMS) are in.
They reveal that 2024 was one of the worst years on record for butterflies in the UK and more than half of butterfly species in the UK are now in long-term decline.
This is truly worrying trend. If you would like to read the full story from Butterfly Conservation, and find out how you can help, please go to: https://tinyurl.com/3apcefbw
For more information about The Bee Garden and what I get up to, please have a look at my website www.thebeegarden.co.uk which also features my online shop.
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Picture credits:
Asparagus, Cuckoo: Pixabay. All others: my own