Garden view
Spring starts on Valentine’s Day, says Helen Billiald. Find out why she’s an early sower
February is a month for patience, I’m told. We must hold our horticultural nerve and not leap too soon; must leave seeds in their packets and ignore compost in the shed. Am I alone in thinking this utter rubbish? If ever there was a month for action, this is it! Ignore the garden from November to January and your absence will be forgiven, but skip February at your peril. And this is perfect, since after weeks of hibernating and catalogue dreaming, at last we’re ready to return to the soil. Stand outside at dawn on Valentine’s Day and you’ll feel it: that sense of the garden waking from its slumber. The lengthening of daylight hours, the dawn chorus, the slick green bulbs pushing through, the glimmer of warmth from the sun’s light… yes, May might be a distant dream but February lights the touchpaper for spring. I see it as a month of two halves. In early February I greet the gardening year in a semi-organised state. I tend to relax over winter, knowing I’ve got ages to do any garden jobs, only to discover that the season has zipped past in a blur of Christmas parties, school fayres and family visits. So, the fortnight before Valentine’s Day is catch-up time: planting bareroot trees, pruning top fruit, cutting back herbaceous perennials, power-washing paths, clearing the compost heap, scrubbing greenhouses... Doze off during these two weeks, and there’s never quite enough time left. Indoors, the bank account takes a pummelling as seed catalogue wishlists get the go-ahead. At least one evening vanishes on seed sorting: I hang onto old packets well beyond their viability date, just in case I suddenly decide I like that flamingo-pink half-hardy annual that I’ve ignored for five years, or in the event there’s a national food shortage and those decade-old packets of vegetable seed will surge in importance. The second half of the month signals seed sowing in earnest. The early starters – scented-leaf pelargoniums (right) – are already greening my windowsills, while aubergines and pepper seedlings teach the family to use caution when yanking towels from the airing cupboard. The boot room holds the annual raft of seed potatoes in egg boxes. By now, production can ramp up. In my unheated greenhouse an embryonic vegetable garden materialises. One day I’m staring at compost, the next my modules of lettuce and coriander, beetroot and spring onion, spinach and cauliflower are waving miraculous green shoots at me. These early sowings give me a safe outlet for my precocious urge to get gardening, but they’re also a tactical way to prevent greenhouse overcrowding when spring finally arrives. Those veggie modules will be popped out under fleece in April, a cheat technique for bringing early harvests forwards. On their liberated shelves I’ll start off trays of half-hardy annuals as I decide once again that my garden can hold more zinnias and nicotianas than a large country estate. So next time someone suggests you’re jumping the seed-sowing gun in February, just explain it’s a clever technique to make the most of your greenhouse space. It also happens to be rather good fun.
Helen Billiald is a garden writer with a Phd in ecology and an Msc in Pest Management. she’s currently sorting her seed packets
“Stand outside at dawn on Valentine’s Day and you’ll feel it… February lights the touchpaper for spring”