garden inventory

Garden Inventory | Ribes rubrum ‘Aili’

Before moving to Finland, I’d never met a currant bush of any sort before. The most common ones in gardens only grow in temperate climates, so they were never really an option in Southern California. Even in the rest of the US, they’re not as common as other berries — even though the federal law against them was lifted in the 1960s, several states still have their own laws regarding growing them. There was a whole thing about them being associated with a strain of rust that was affecting the logging industry, but that’s just a Google away so we will skip that part. All this meant that although I’d read about currants and gooseberries in books, I never saw a real one until moving here in 2010.

Ribes rubrum ‘Aili’ (vaaleanpunainen herukka) was the second currant bush I purchased for the garden, back in 2019. I had planted a whitecurrant the previous year and decided it needed company. There were also lots of blackcurrants and redcurrants left by the previous owners, but those were on the older side and would need replacing within the next several years. The main reason I wanted to write about ‘Aili’ first is simply because it’s the prettiest of all my currants. It’s not all superficial, though — the gorgeous pink berries are also sweeter than redcurrants and the plant has been much more reliable than the whitecurrant. This little shrub has given me the least trouble and most reward as a first-time grower of ribes, so I have developed a great fondness for it.

As you can see from the first picture, this plant was flowering from the first day I got it. The first year, it was unceremoniously plunked into a hole in the lawn, a few feet away from the whitecurrant and roughly where I expected my vegetable patch to eventually expand. It sat this way patiently for the next two years until said expansion actually happened, and I got around to giving it a little wooden collar, compost, and mulch. That seemed to be all it needed to put up several more branches and double its height. It got so big that I was able to take six cuttings this summer, which are now happily overwintering in the spinach bed until they are big enough to put out in the garden next spring.

‘Aili’ produces about as many berries as any redcurrant would, since that is what it was bred from. Since I’ve started giving it a decent top dressing of compost every spring, it’s been growing rapidly and producing more and more trusses each year. This year’s batch was only enough for fresh eating and smoothies, though I did consider mixing it with the white currants and making a small batch of pretty rose-tinged jam. I should have enough next year to do this purely with pinkcurrants, though!

Final count:

Ribes rubrum ‘Aili’ – 1 healthy shrub and (hopefully) 6 rooted cuttings next spring

Garden Inventory | Rosa ‘The Poet’s Wife’

Finally, we have the third plant from my 2022 rose batch. I’m so happy that all three ended up being such healthy plants, allaying my fears about growing roses in cold climates. Why did it take me so long to get roses, after having so many in our garden growing up? A dumb mistake, really.

I made one earlier attempt to plant roses during our first year at the house, back in 2012. My bad choice of location (a sunny but rocky slope with very poor soil and heavy snow dump over the winter) led to those not surviving the year. Perhaps the lesson in this is mostly about observing your garden for a year before trying to make any long-term plantings. After that, I tried to figure out solutions by reading articles about overwintering with burlap sacks, special mulches, and complicated pruning regimens, all of which only made me more anxious. It was only after I’d built my gardening confidence with a few years of vegetable garden success that I felt up to the challenge of trying roses again, only to discover that the first try had been nothing but a piece of bad luck. I’m catching up on a lot of lost gardening time now.

Rosa ‘The Poet’s Wife’ (ruusu) blooms not long after ‘Gertrude Jekyll’ and has been absolutely prolific this year. It is also, I’ve discovered, a sprawler. It’s been interesting to see how each plant can have such a different growth habit. I think one of its stems has managed to layer itself and is in the process of becoming a separate plant. Since it’s planted in the cutting garden amongst bulbs and annuals, this isn’t much of a problem so I’m letting it have its head to see how big it will get. I might just give it an arch if it gets too tall since it’s pretty close to the front of the garden anyway.

Final count:

  • Rosa ‘The Poet’s Wife’ – one rapidly expanding shrub

Garden Inventory | Rosa ‘Scepter’d Isle’

This Austin rose, from the same January 2022 batch as ‘Gertrude Jekyll’, struggled a little starting out but has made up for it over the past year. Aesthetically, it’s probably my favorite out of the three, though it’s a close race since they have all been charming in different ways.

Rosa ‘Scepter’d Isle’ (ruusu) is the last of my roses to bloom in the spring, but it makes up for it by offering big cupped blooms on stems that don’t seem to droop as much as the others. This plant had a little trouble in the start, shriveling in its pot despite having received a good soaking upon arrival. I was almost ready to email for a replacement when a new shoot appeared from just above the planting line. It has recovered well since then, gone through two flushes of blooms, and donated flowers for several vases over this past year. This particular plant is significant also because it marks the grave of my son’s late gerbil, so it is one of the few plants that will never be moved in the cutting garden.

Not too many notes yet, since these plants are still young, but I look forward to seeing how these little roses fill out over the next few years. They have already done a lot of growing in this season alone and changed my mind about how difficult keeping roses in our climate might be.

Final count:

  • Rosa ‘Scepter’d Isle’ – one rapidly expanding shrub

Garden Inventory | Rosa ‘Gertrude Jekyll’

The very first David Austin rose I bought was ‘Fair Bianca’, back when I was in Southern California. It was a small perky shrub, happy to live in a stoneware pot in our very sunny front yard. Although that garden had towering hybrid teas and extravagant floribundas growing along most of the walls, ‘Bianca’ was the first rose that I chose for myself. Its shape and scent set it apart from the others and I’ve been wanting to grow more varieties ever since.

More than a decade later, we bought a house in Finland with plenty of room for a rose garden. It would take a little longer still to set it up, but in January of 2022, I placed my first order for roses straight from the David Austin online store. Sadly, ‘Bianca’ would be discontinued by then, though I still keep an eye out for it whenever possible. Instead, I went with three that topped the list for being fragrant and floriferous, and those are the ones I’ll be writing about in the next few posts.

Rosa ‘Gertrude Jekyll’ (ruusu) was the first rose in my basket that year and it has been the first to flower each spring since. It’s put on a good amount of growth this year and I look forward to seeing how big it gets in subsequent years since most bloggers seem to agree that it’s extremely vigorous.

In the beginning, though, I wasn’t so sure that it would even survive. The roses arrived in March, which is still the dead of winter for us. Having never ordered bare-rooted plants before, I couldn’t help being worried by their denuded state, despite having done enough research to know they should be fine. My hot water canner got called into service as a soaking container since there was nothing else big enough after the baby tub went into storage. Then the plants got potted up and placed by the windowsill, where they stayed until temperatures were warm enough for them to transition outside about two months later.

Gertie was by far the easiest to maintain during that early period and ever since, sprouting eagerly in its pot and eventually giving me flowers before they were even planted into the ground. It remains very fuss-free in the garden as well and I cannot recommend it enough, thorns and all. I was able to cut stems of highly perfumed roses to take inside for weeks during the first flush, and the autumn flush has been just as generous. Overwintering involved nothing more than mounding up some extra mulch and compost around the base of the plant at first frost. Depending on how tall it manages to get (and based on the reports, I’ve every belief it will be quite a bit), I might be adding some more of this rose to the mixed hedge in future years.

Final count:

  • Rosa ‘Gertrude Jekyll’ – one rapidly expanding shrub

Garden Inventory | Vitis vinifera ‘Zilga’

Alright, storytime! So not far from where we live, there’s an island with three nuclear power plants. The government has been conducting research projects there to find uses for the heat in the wastewater as the cooling system circulates it out of the plants. After all, we’re five degrees of latitude from the Arctic Circle and can use all the heat we can get, no matter what the season. So back in 2001, they ran plastic pipes carrying the heated water under a field, then planted it with grapes and other warm-season crops, effectively providing them with frost-free growing conditions all year round. They are also using the heat for small-scale fish farming. The projects are still ongoing, as far as I know.

Now, a decent percentage of the town population (yours truly and the previous occupants of our house included) have either worked on the island, currently have work associated with it, or have friends and family who have. That’s why cuttings from those experimental grapevines are now living in our garden.

Vitis vinifera ‘Zilga’ (viinirypäle) is a vigorous blue grape of Latvian extraction. It is very cold-hardy, withstanding temperatures down to -40°C, and enthusiastically productive. I suppose even with heated ground, it’s not bad to hedge your bets. Our plants must be nearing two decades old by now, and are in the prime of their lives.

I am not a particularly experienced pruner, so these vines have had to deal with my attempts at learning over the years. Mostly, I just try to keep them neat and ventilated. I made the mistake of allowing them to go unpruned last year and the greenhouse vine has now escaped its confines, insinuating itself into the shrubbery and trees beyond. The vine trellised to our outbuilding has engulfed its supports and most of the wall as well. We have meters and meters of vine, it’s insane. My plan for early next spring is to prune both vines back hard, around the same time as the apple trees. I’ll use the abundance of woody materials to construct a decorative garden hut next to the vegetable beds, hopefully big enough for kids to play in.

Did I mention that these things produce a LOT of grapes? They’re pretty tasty, too, with a hint of blueberry. However, there’s no way our family can eat that many grapes. They are also individually on the small side with plenty of seeds, which makes them not as appealing to kids, despite being very sweet and juicy. Mostly, I steam juice the fruit and can it for use over the winter, often mixed with apple or berry juice. This year, I plan to make grape jelly for the first time. They also make a nice rosé wine and our grapevines’ parents are indeed being used for that purpose. We’re not really wine drinkers, though, so juice it is.

The other thing I always forget to try with these plants is stuffed grape leaves, which I like at restaurants. Hopefully, a note here will remind me next year. Anybody got a good recipe?

Final count:

Vitis vinifera ‘Zilga’ – 2 sprawling vines, one in the greenhouse and one threatening to consume the left side of our outbuilding

Garden Inventory | Pyrus communis ‘Pepi’

Pyrus communis ‘Pepi’ (päärynä) is a pear tree originally bred in Estonia, so it does great in our cold winters. The fruits are abundant and ready to harvest pretty early for a pear — usually in early September. I’ve read that this is a smaller variety and that pear trees grow slowly, to begin with, both facts which seem to be pretty well-represented here. It is the only tree I don’t have to harvest with a ladder, giving it a special place in my heart.

Unlike the other fruit trees that came with the house, this one is relatively young, having only been planted a few years before we moved in. That still makes it well over a decade old, however, and it has grown remarkably little in that time. Besides being cold-hardy, Pepi has also been super healthy, never having any foliar or insect problems. There was originally another garden pear planted with it, for cross-pollination, but that one died early on and a wild pear has grown from the rootstock to replace it. (That’s the giant green tree directly behind Pepi in the first picture, if you’re wondering).

I also planted a “family” pear this summer, which grows three different varieties on different branches. One of those branches grows ‘Pepi’. That’s the sapling in the last picture. It has not fruited yet, so we will see how that turns out in the following years.

The pears from this tree are sweet and soft… when they are picked on time and ripen successfully. My timing is still a little hit or miss in this regard. In theory, you’re supposed to start tasting them in late August and pick them when they’re sweet and start to get a blush. In practice, most times I’ve run out with a bucket when the first few are falling off the tree. Most of them are good at that point, but there will be several that are a bit overripe and have started turning brown in the middle. Ick.

This year, we ended up with only a few large fruits, due to the double whammy of our pruning the tree last year and wonky pollination issues from this year’s dry spring. Thus, I ended up with a handful of large fruit that I picked too late to be very tasty.

When you do get to them on time, though, Pepi pears are best for fresh eating. They are quite sweet and smooth, though I can’t say I’ve tasted enough different pears to be able to differentiate flavors. I’ve also juiced these in the past and preserved them as canned pear sauce.

Final count:

  • Pyrus communis ‘Pepi’ – 1 smallish tree and 1 branch of a multi-variety tree

Garden Inventory | Malus domestica ‘Red Cinnamon’

I’ve had this post in drafts since the beginning of summer, as one thing or another kept my attention from working on it. That’s often how I feel about harvesting this particular apple tree as well, because it ripens in the first weeks of September, just when it gets harder to find any time in the garden due to work. It doesn’t deserve to be put off, yet it happens year after year.

Malus domestica ‘Red Cinnamon’ (omena ‘Punakaneli’) is an mid-season apple which is great for fresh eating and baking. It can also be stored for a month or so in the cellar. It arrived from Russia in the late 19th century and is now the most popular apple variety grown in Finland.

Our specific Punakaneli tree was planted at the same time as the other older trees, in the 1950s. We’ve found it to be slower-growing than White Transparent, but also generally healthier. In fact, this tree was hit by lightning decades ago and has carried on growing perfectly well since. It also doesn’t seem to be as prone to worms as the earlier ripening apples.

Despite having “red” in its name, this apple usually only has a blush of red over yellowish green when we pick it. It’s very crisp and juicy, with the advertised hint of cinnamon. It is sweeter than our other apple, but often doesn’t bear as much fruit. They get used in much the same way as our other apples, and I often steam juice them together with sour crabapples that are available around the same time. The resulting juice has a much fuller flavor than juice made from earlier apples.

Final count:

  • Malus domestica ‘Red Cinnamon’ – 1 elderly tree

Garden Inventory | Malus domestica ‘White Transparent’

Having just talked about our plum trees, it seemed the right time to segue into the rest of our fruit tree collection. Unlike the plums, which went unnoticed for the first few years, the apple trees were impossible to miss. They are all large, mature trees growing in clear areas with little to obstruct one’s view of them. We often use them as landmarks when we’re trying to explain where something is on the property.

One of the main reasons I wanted to buy a home with more history was the high likelihood of mature apple trees being in the garden. You know what they say about fruit trees — the best time to plant one is 10 years ago. The next best time is today. Or better yet, just move somewhere where someone else planted them more than 10 years ago.

This particular tree is a cultivar called Malus domestica ‘White Transparent’ (omena ‘Valkea kuulas’), also known as ‘Yellow Transparent’ in North America. It was very popular across Europe in the 19th century and is still sold in some nurseries today. Its main claim to fame is being a very early variety that will provide ripe fruit by the tail end of summer in most places. This makes it especially nice to combine with the many soft fruits and berries that are usually ready to harvest around the same time.

The tree, like most of the other heirloom plant varieties in our garden, was planted in the 1950s. By all accounts, it should be nearing the end of its lifespan (50-80 years). It doesn’t seem to have realized this and has provided us with a glut of apples almost every year that we’ve been here. We only recently started learning how to prune fruit trees and thin fruit, so I am hoping to help it stay in good form for another few decades.

We usually start picking the apples when the first few turn pale yellow to creamy white. We eat those right away since they don’t last long when that ripe. The greener ones can sit in boxes awaiting processing for up to a week. The fruit is juicy, with a nice balance of sweet and tart that you don’t find in most supermarket apples.

Apples are useful for such a wide variety of recipes that I doubt I’ll remember all the ways I’ve cooked them over the years! I bought an apple coring and peeling gadget and a steam juicer specifically to get through the glut more efficiently — one season of doing everything by hand was more than enough.

About 3/4 of the apples are peeled, cored, then run through the steam juicer. The white flesh of these apples makes a beautiful clear golden juice that is easy to mix with other drinks. The remaining pulp is made into applesauce, apple butter, and apple leather. A good portion of the apples are also sliced and frozen for use in baked desserts such as apple pies, apple crisps, and apple brownies. I just saw a video on how to make apple cider vinegar, so it looks like I will even have a use for the cores and peels this year as well!

Final count:

  • Malus domestica ‘White Transparent’ – 1 elderly but productive tree

Garden Inventory | Prunus domestica ‘Victoria’

That’s right, two Victorias in a row. Different genus, but still in the fruit category. This does make me wonder just how many plants were named after that particular queen at the height of her popularity. Surely enough to make an interesting garden collection, given how long she reigned.

Names aside, the other reason I loosely associate these two plants is that, much like our rhubarb, our plum trees are also very old and prolific. The oldest one might very well have been planted when the farm was first built, but we had to cut that down a few years back because it was 80% dead wood. It had spawned several saplings from the copious loads of fruit it produced, though, so we still have two overgrown stands of Victoria plums that need severe pruning.

Prunus domestica ‘Victoria’ (luumu) came to Finland by way of Sweden, where it was a popular garden variety throughout the late 19th century. It’s still sold in stores, though I’m not sure how many people need them these days. I know I’ll happily give away as many as anyone can take. Did I mention that these things self-seed like mad?

Also, this tree grows annoyingly tall. I usually only notice that it is flowering when I see the upper branches covered in foamy white from my second-story bedroom window. Since all those flowers are so high up, all the fruit are very high up too, and the only way to get them is to wait for them to drop at the beginning of autumn. Before I began developing the vegetable garden and food forest, we didn’t go into that part of the garden much at all. This explains why I never even noticed we had plum trees until we had been living here for a few years.

Yes, you can tell I have a love/hate relationship with these trees. The fruit are really sweet and bountiful and I’m quite happy to have them… when we can get to them. My new tactic for next month will be to prune and harvest simultaneously, so we can start cleaning up all those wild branches and tame these trees into something more garden-friendly.

A large number of these plums are eaten fresh off the tree. They are smaller than the round supermarket plums — more like large grapes — and sweeter, too. The perfect size for school-aged kids, who can eat an entire bowlful in a single sitting if given the chance. When the glut inevitably overwhelms even the most ambitious of frugivores, I pit and halve them with a handy little kitchen gadget and freeze them in 1-liter bags for processing later in winter. In recent memory, I have made plum cobbler, plum juice, and plum jelly.

Final count:

  • Prunus domestica ‘Victoria’ – 2 large and prolific stands

Garden Inventory | Rheum rhabarbarum ‘Victoria’

Today, I’m going back to cataloging our oldest plants, if only so that I can have all their information in one place rather than bothering my poor friend (who lived here before us) whenever I forget. Possibly some of the oldest plants we have, this rhubarb patch dates back to the 1950s when the farm was first built. It was one of the first things I noticed when we did a tour of the property since the buds were just breaking the ground and looked like bright red dinosaur eggs. It’s still one of my favorite spring sights, and I usually end up taking a picture every year.

Rheum rhabarbarum ‘Victoria’ (raparperi) is another one of those things that just doesn’t exist where I grew up. As a kid, I’d always try to imagine what rhubarb must be like from descriptions in books, but seeing it for the first time was a total surprise. Watching them grow from shiny crimson eggs into plants taller than me was quite eye-opening.

I have since learned that most rhubarb plants do not grow large enough to engulf small buildings every year, but we do have some very large specimens of a vigorous variety planted in a spot where they are very happy. There’s something about the mild and endless light of northern summers that does it for them because another friend mentioned how her grandmother in Alaska also grows gigantic rhubarb. ‘Victoria’ is the most popular variety in Finnish gardens, and I’m guessing this is one of the reasons why.

Although I was excited to harvest and taste rhubarb that first year, I was also nervous because of all the warnings about their poisonous parts. While I’m still cautious about thoroughly removing the leaves, I’ve become much less wary over the years. Especially after one of the neighbor’s kids, during a birthday party, casually asked to pluck a stalk to snack on raw. This has actually become something that I rather enjoy doing as well, though I prefer to dip it in some sugar to temper the sourness.

Aside from eating it straight off the plant or making desserts straightaway, I also harvest several stalks every summer to freeze for using over the rest of the year. Some of our favorite recipes are rhubarb pie, rhubarb cake, and rhubarb vanilla jelly.

Final count:

  • Rheum rhabarbarum ‘Victoria’ – 2 large and ancient clumps