Just the other day, I discovered a partially finished 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 necessary firefighting is underway. As I’m expecting a baby, I’ve enlisted a local gardener to remove troublesome weeds like a prickly weed and robinia saplings from the neighbour’s tree, but keeping desirable plants. Then, in the newly cleared patches, I’ll be sowing green manure.
Green manure are superheroes when it comes to boosting soil quality.
My gardening friend Claire has written about cover crops, as they play a key role in crop rotation for edible gardens. However, the only things I’m harvesting from my garden right now are a few scrumped apples and some hardy herbs.
My ambitions for the garden are modest and consistent – and enhancing soil health is my main priority. For those wondering, the scaffold is for roof repairs, and the garden boundaries are yet to be fixed, but the neighbours agree with replacing them.
Green manure work wonders for soil health. Bare soil invites weeds, which is why weeds appear. But by sowing vigorous crops, you can suppress weeds, attract pollinators, shelter beneficial insects, and enrich the soil with nutrients.
Green manure plants may not look exciting – though some, like certain lupin varieties and a flowering legume, have lovely blooms – but their role is to thrive rather than be admired. After they’ve grown, you can dig them into the soil, chop them for mulch, or let them decompose for worms to pull down. Their work happens below the surface.
Autumn is perfect for sowing these overwintering crops. I’ve chosen rye grass, great for clay soil, a nitrogen-lifter, vetch, and field beans.
It feels rewarding in planting seeds that won’t stay forever – on the surface, anyway.
