Dyers Chamomile

The last week of hot weather has brought the plants on a treat. I was a little worried if they were going to survive, having been flooded 5 times over the winter, but it seems they are made of tough stuff and have come back bigger and better than before.

I love this plant. Even if I wasn't hooked on all things dyeing, I'd probably grow it for itself alone. Delicate, soft grey-green foliage, tall strong stems topped with amazing cartwheels of brilliant yellow. The plant itself isn't that elegant - a bit straggly, tall and leggy. If you don't have a dedicated bed for dye plants it might be worth growing it through something leafy. I'm tempted to move a plant or two to the front garden - to have it rambling through our reddish purple sumac might be quite something!

So, the plant, Anthemis tinctoria. Long known as a dye-plant- hence it's scientific name. As a rule of thumb, if a species is called tinctoria, it's going to dye things. The 'how' and 'what colour' is another matter, but dye it will.
These plants I raised from seed. Sown in seed trays in the spring with no protection (it's do or die for seedlings round here, only the strong survive!) they quickly form little rosettes of frondy grey-green leaves on a tough white, scaly root. When big enough to handle comfortably (about 5-8 cms across) plant out at about 30cms apart. They wilt. Almost immediately, they will flop and you will think you've killed them. Fear not! Keep them well watered for a week or so and they will quickly perk up and grow away fast. It is native to the Mediterranean and it's fine, slightly downy leaves are a protection against too much water loss in it's typical dry habitat. So is the wilting.

It's a tough plant. Though it's distribution and form should mean it prefers dryish soils, I've grown it well on everything from pure clay to sand. And while it is in a light sandy soil at the moment, I can't really say it's in a dry position, what with the Amber coming out of her banks to play each winter. Still, the plants have taken no harm and have been bursting with colour for the last few days.

The flowers are now drying, flat on a board and out of direct sun. They are best used fresh but I've used several years old dried ones in the past. The colour is a little paler and it takes a little longer for the dye bath to develop, but they still work perfectly well. As you might expect, they give a lovely warm yellow on wool - a clear sunshiny colour. On cotton it is paler, but still beautiful.

I thin, weather permitting, it's going to be a great crop this year. Plenty for me, plenty for sale. And next year, with luck and the co-operation of the Amber, there should be new young plants from cuttings

Lavender's Blue

...dilly dilly...

Well, it used to be. It also used to be pink, purple, white and in one amazing plant, green.

When we first moved here, part of the attraction was more land. I had a burgeoning herb plant business, supplying small food shops and a regular farmers market stall. I was, despite a reasonably large garden, fast running out of space.

We moved and I set up greenhouses, bought a polytunnel and plants and business continued to grow.

Then, in June 2007 it rained. And it never really stopped. And on the 25th, the land gave up. The river burst her banks and the water table rose. The garden was underwater, the house was flooded and I was 5 months pregnant and as agile as a beached whale



The water came up very fast. Overnight, it went down again, leaving mud and devastation. We were luckier than many, but of what we lost, the most precious was my business.

Every single plant for the herb business was gone. All stock, all parent plants, all seedlings and cuttings. Some were rare, some were special and some were (and are) irreplaceable.

It still hurts.

Since then, I've ignored herbs. Concentrated on getting the house finished, the garden resurrected, keeping Little Button out of trouble and the haberdashery business. But recently, ideas have started creeping back. I found some old copies of The Lavender Bag and though reading through the lists of plants and seeing familiar names made my heart hurt and reminded me of everything that went sailing merrily down the river that night, I was excited. Though we are (again) getting short of land, there is still a patch of unclaimed wilderness/rubble that could be cleared. We could make raised beds there and a sand bed for cuttings. Little Button will be at school in September and there will be a fraction more time.  This winter the greenhouse will go back up and there will be more growing space.


I think I may have found myself a new project!

Hello? Hello?

Sooo, another great long gap in blogging. Haven't really got the hang of this, yet. Ho Hum.

However, the new years resolution is to be a bit more consistent (what do you mean, it's June?)

so in between setting fire to things

dyeing things

restocking the hen house

and a bit of sewing

I shall try to get back here a bit more often.

An apple a day...

...keeps the Dr away

if this is true, we shan't be visiting him any time soon. Not that we ever actually do, but that's another matter.

September is here and whilst trying not to fall into a mire of cliche about mellow fruitfulness, the garden really has surpassed itself this year.

Remember this?




today it looked like this:



The fruit trees have done well this year (cue gratuitous pic of pretty apples) after being transplanted, we have nearly recovered from shifting 20 tonnes of brick rubble and top soil and all in all we are quite pleased with life at the moment.



What I am slightly less pleased about is the prospect of finding homes for these




Anyone for pie?

On the outside

There is more to life than buttons (shocking, but true!) and the other side of life is spent trying to make half an acre of brick rubble, mud and nettles actually grow something. Sometimes I win - sometimes I don't. Recently, the prizes have been going to the forces of chaos. Of course, the flood didn't help - hard to dig when under 9' of water - and the next year a very tiny Little Button didn't help much either. But this year, I'm determined to take gold!

This may be over-optimistic on my part. Certainly, it isn't looking promising! The main problem is that although we have a lovely amount of space here, the house itself was once part of the brickworks. Famous brickworks, historically important brickworks, but nevertheless, brickworks that dumped all the spoil and misfires all over the land that was one day to become my garden.

And so - where there should be earth, there is brick. What soil that is there is a deeply unpleasant mix of clay and brick chippings. And, at best guess, there is 60 tonnes of brick bits to move before I do more planting.





This patch is going to be an orchard. One day! I'm slowly digging out the bricks, pulling up the weeds and some day soon will cover the whole area with the contents of 5 compost heaps. We have saved some topsoil from other excavations and then the trees can go in. At present, they are down in the veggie plot, but it's too frosty, too damp and if they grow more than 6" they're going to shade out the neighbours greenhouse. I don't think I could live with myself if they did that!

I've already cut down the alder sprouts coming from the stump:


A lot of this will be saved for button making and toggle making. As they are quite young shoots, they have grown lovely and straight and really - there is nothing better than the colour of fresh-cut alder!