They say every cloud has a silver lining. Much as my grumbles about the new recycling edict are, there is a certain joy as our galvanized dustbins have became obsolete. Spuds were my first thought. Common knowledge (in the growing spuds in containers field) dictates that Earlies (new potatoes to me and you) should be your first choice. However we grew Home Guard last year and whilst they were wonderful, pearly white and everything you would want out of a new potato, we craved for a good old fashioned proper spud.
These are King Edwards, I wondered whether to plant up with three or four or five, obviously I settled on five. Hubby drilled holes in the bottom of the bins for drainage and we cracked open a compost heap for the soil.
Keep ’em peeled for an update in September.
I love my shed, its almost the perfect hide. I just need some mesh that could be hung across the doorway when the door is open and it would be perfect. We are very lucky that our plot is next to an old and established hedgerow. I’m never quick enough on my camera but today, I caught a Chaffinch.
3 thoughts on “An experiment!”
Ingeniouser and ingeniouser – how do you get the potatoes out of the dustbin at the harvest? I’m presuming you’re going to add earth to them as they grow to make them big and strong (vague recollections of my mother doing something similar!)
Hi Carie,I did forget to say that I would be adding soil to them as the haulms poke through to hopefully induce the potatoes to produce the full length of the dustbin. Thats the theory anyway!When we come to harvest I suspect we may need our sons to manhandle it and empty it out. Its certainly not a job for me, I can barely move them already.
I’ve only grown home grown spuds once and that was back accident.When I was a girl my Dad buried some spuds that were growing ‘whiskers’ at the bottom of our garden, not thinking that they would grow more spuds but thats what they did and they were lovely.Our current garden is a postage stamp so we can’t grow veg and The Oh! Bearded One hasn’t the time for an allotment at present (he’s the gardener, not me.)