This bed is partly shaded by a six-year old medlar, which was one of the first trees I planted in this little garden. Now eight feet high, it blossoms profusely and in autumn is covered in golden brown fruit which each winter I turn into a single jar of garnet-coloured jelly.

Winter 2009/2010. I have used this bed for a succession of successful brassica crops and potatoes, the latter being perfectly happy with the moist soil and the slight shade given by the branches of the Nottingham medlar. This winter, I dug out every last cabbage and fed the soil with well-rotted manure. I felt it was in need of a change. The side nearest the house, which is the least shaded is now home to my rhubarb plants. Stockbridge Arrow, Brandy Carr Scarlet and Grandad's Favourite are now tucked in. Stockbridge Arrow is under a terracotta forcer in the hope of some early stems, the others just peeping above the soil at the end of January. The rest of the bed rests.

Autumn 2009. Red cabbages, purple sprouting, Duchy and January King cabbages are currently heading up nicely. Yes, they are heavily shaded by the medlar tree, whose branches are laden with russet brown medlars, but they seem extraordinarily happy. Each plant has a 'brassica collar' around their stalk to prevent the cabbage white butterflies, of which this garden is full, laying their eggs.  

Summer 2009. The medlar tree has spread its wings just that little too far, and once this summer's crop of medlars are harvested, there is much pruning to be done. Under the branches this summer are red cabbages - badly attacked by snails - and a row of purple sprouting. Cabbages, including the new Duchy variety, are standing up well despite the shade from the tree above.
 
Spring 2009. The last of the smoky, blue-leaved cabbages and crinkly kale has been cut. The brassicas liked this bed with its overhanging medlar, and shall be here again, one day. Right now the tree is at its most fulsome, the blossoms, single, elegant, white as linen, sit amidst the tufts of leaves. There must be a hundred of them this year, twinkling at dusk like candles on a Christmas Tree. The shade cast is immense, giving anything underneath the almost eerie appearance of being underwater. The bed, newly dug, awaits salad seedlings. For now, it is home to those herbs that appreciate a cool, shady corner - chervil with leaves like lace; piercing lemon-scented sorrel and coriander, which likes to avoid direct sunlight and which sends it to seed. Not that I would mind that much, coriander flowers are delicate and quietly beautiful when the are shaken by the breeze.

Winter 2008. The snowfall this winter has been breathtakingly beautiful and just what the garden needed. But perhaps the most exquisite sight of all was the soft blue-green of the cabbage and kale plants in this bed, their leaves frosted at the edges. The Brassicas have followed the potatoes. and I now have kale, red cabbage and purple sprouting doing well, even though the soil is currently wetter than I would like. I have already put my order in for seeds and plug plants for this coming year, including some varieties previously unknown to me.  It doesn't do to grow any of the brassica family in the same position for more than a couple of years running, so this will be the last year that this bed is home to the cabbage family.

Autumn 2008. What a success the potatoes were. Golden Wonder produced beautiful tubers the size of goose eggs, their skin a deep honey gold. Not a patch of disease anywhere, just a few scars where I was careless with the garden fork. Pink Fir apple, despite my doubts, faired well, and their small size made them particularly charming in a salad with walnut oil, lemon and chopped dill. I had never seen them freshly dug before, so was surprised by their rose pink skin, more subtle than those I have bought from the shops. Salad blue was worth growing, if only for the striking violet colour. It fades when you cook them to a delicate bluey-grey. From a flavor point of view they were unexciting, but they had already proved their worth by the delight they aroused just digging them up. Arran Victory was just as good as a mashing potato as I had hoped. I can't pretend I grew them by the book. Yes, I mounded a little soil around the stems to stop the potatoes greening, but other than that I did little to them at all. Beginners luck? I don't know. Its my second year with potatoes and very good they have been again. Maybe they just like my rich, rather wet soil. maybe they are comfortable with a little neglect. 
 
Summer 2008. All five varieties of potato are currently about a metre high. The flowers, in shades of violet, pink, mauve and white are currently at their peak and enchanting with their sugared almond colours. What treasure is waiting under the soil waits to be seen. I am most excited about the Salad Blue and Pink Fir Apple, partly because I have been led to believe they are difficult to grow. Potatoes can be deceiving, so despite their outwardly healthy appearance I am expecting nothing. The soil in this bed is exceptionally moist and the area heavily shaded, so it will be interesting to see how they fare. My worry is the shade from the medlar tree that so desperately needs pruning might not meet with their approval.

Spring 2008. The medlar tree now covers half of this bed with its winding branches providing gentle shade and keeping the ground cool and moist. It is too shady for sweet peas now, so in early April I planted five varieties of potato here: Kestrel, Salad Blue, Pink Fir Apple, Golden Wonder and Arran Victory. They pushed their way through the soil during the second week of May, Kestrel first, followed by the beautiful violet black leaves of Salad Blue. By the third week of May were  a good foot high and in apparently fine fettle. I am protecting the juicy young shoots with copper rings.
  
Winter 2007/8. The bed is currently resting, the ground cleared of dried sweet pea sticks and dead dahlia stems. The sweet peas - Cupani, Black Knight did well and I will grow more this year. A solitary raspberry cane re-appeared as a reminder that until last year this bed was kept for autumn flowering raspberry canes. I left it be, and I will continue to, in the hope it might offer the occasional fruit late in the year. Because of the blight, I will have to find somewhere else for the tomatoes this year, to give the soil a chance to recover.

Autumn 2007. One of the pleasures of this bit of the garden is walking round at night, the snow-white flowers of the borage twinkling like stars in the moonlight. I look forward to its return each year - it seeds all over the place -  for that pleasure alone.