A random greengage has sprouted in the yew hedge that separates this bed from the garden beyond. I like the way its thin branches hang down over the beans and black cabbage. At the centre of this bed in summer are sweet peas, mostly the deep purple Black Knight, the lavender petalled The Doctor and the creamy white Mrs Collier. They last well here, I suppose because of the shade. The way I see it, a garden can never have too many sweet peas, butterflies or ladybirds.

Winter 2009/10 The artichokes have at last been dug out (even a small piece left in the ground will sprout), the remaining cavolo nero removed and the soil enriched with organic matter. Three strong oak fruit supports have gone in, taught wires stretched between them, ready to take several loganberry, raspberry and golden raspberry canes. These will replace my original berry patch that I ripped out a couple of years ago and have regretted it ever since. This is a damp and periodically shaded bed that seems just right for berries. This is like no other bed in the garden, having a cool, moist quality that you encounter in the fruit growing valleys of Scotland.

Late summer 2009. On reflection, the beans were a little lacklustre this year. But the sweetpeas made up for it, with their copious flowers in shades of burgundy and white. The Jerusalem artichokes continue to grow, more prolific even than last year. The beans have been replaced by a couple of rows of dark cavolo nero ready for winter soups. The single orange marigolds I planted in the spring look startling against the dark stems of the cabbages.

Summer 2009. Sweet peas, growing up a hazel twig frame, do well in this slightly shaded bed and their dark colours seem all the more intense. I failed to remove all of last year's 'Fuseau' Jerusalem artichokes and I now have an unexpected but welcome row of them next to the hedge. There are crimson broad beans here from the Chelsea Physic Garden and a small patch of yellow chard which seems slightly less happy than the red. In theory, this bed should be too shady for anything to do very well, but it has been a revelation to discover just what you can grow in a less than ideal situation. I will soon have to make a decision regarding the future of the plum tree that overhangs this bit of the garden.

Winter 2009. The green-blue plumes of the cavolo nero are doing better now the slugs and snails have gone into hiding. The leaves have been particularly sweet this winter, almost certainly because of the truly cold weather and heavy frosts. The Jerusalem artichokes have been more successful than I could have hoped for, crisp, smooth and exceptionally tasty. The crop just seems to go on for ever. First soup, then roasted with lemon, and then tucked into a casserole with lamb and parsley. I shall leave a few in to sprout for this year, though possibly not as many as last time. Fuseau has turned out to be an excellent, trouble-free variety, one which I warmly recommend.

Summer/ Autumn 2008. I thought the Jerusalem artichokes would never stop growing. At one point they were a good eight feet high, topped with delicate yellow flowers and so tall I had to tie them back so we could get past them on the path. In October I dug the first root up and found thirty or more smooth, ivory coloured tubers the size of a large garden mouse. The flavour was almost indistinguishable from the usual knobbly varieties, but blissfully easy to peel. In the depths of winter they will make velvety soup, but the first harvest was roasted with olive oil, butter and flat leafed parsley. Their insides were soft as melting fudge.

Also in this bed is cavolo nero, which has just about survived the attention of the snails who like to hide in the box hedges that surround the beds. Once the first frosts hit, I will be pick the smaller, exquisitely crinkled leaves from the top of the plants. In our house they are often eaten as a green vegetable, though many end up being pushed into thick bean soups a few minutes before they are ladelled into bowls. Yes, they have a strident flavour, but that is what I want from my winter vegetables. Bright, robust flavours for cold days.

Spring 2008. The Jerusalem artichokes I planted in March next to the tall yew hedge have emerged as healthy new shoots, bending elegantly towards the sun. I have chosen the smooth and slender Fuseau variety this year. They are protected from the new fox cubs who like to play in the vegetable beds by a small forest of hazel twigs. Twelve plants of the ancient variety of broad bean 'Grando Violetto' have just poked their heads above ground (May 8th) and are surrounded by copper rings to ward off slimy predators. The cavolo nero with its dusky grey-green-leaves is a good hand high now, each plant encircled by spent coffee grounds to keep the snails at bay. This bed is also home to White Versailles currants which are currently full of flowers and a magnificent blackcurrant.
    The third week of May and the broad beans are so tall I have had to tie them to canes. An old variety of pea - Douce Provence - that was that started in the cold frame a month ago, went in this week, between the Grando Violetto and a row of Cavolo Nero which is also doing fine. A fox glove has seeded itself in this bed. A thing of much elegance and charm.

Winter 2007 The broad beans that I planted out in last April did well, despite being under constant attack from snails that hid in the surrounding box hedging. The crimson flowered beans from Chelsea Physic garden survived better that the white Aquadulce, and were a mass of fragrant flowers and short, plump pods. I didn't mind the holes in their leaves or having to remove the little brown-and-white shelled snails that make them. I shall plant some more this year. Right now the bed is home to a few 'rubine' Brussels sprouts with their dusky mauve and dark green leaves. I have never seen more beautiful leaves on a vegetable plant. There are leeks too, currently the thickness of a finger and tired, I suspect, of doing battle with the foxes that jump all over them.
     Despite being damp and heavily shaded, a healthy white currant and a small Oullin’s gage live in this bed too. In early summer, a deep red Emperor poppy from the late Christopher Lloyd's garden at Great Dixter flowers profusely in the corner, which inevitably has to be held up with sticks and brown string. This is a difficult bed, good for sweet peas, the aforementioned broad beans and the beloved poppy, but little else seems to work here.