Melons, pumpkins and winter squashes are the gluttons of the vegetable plot. A single 'Hundredweight' pumpkin can put on ten kilos in a season, and a cantaloupe trained up a frame will keep cropping until the first frost if you keep feeding it. That sort of growth doesn't come from thin, dusty soil. It comes from soil that is dark, crumbly and alive — and the cheapest, most reliable way to get there is a compost heap you tend yourself.
Think about what a pumpkin plant actually does. It throws out trailing stems three or four metres long, produces leaves the size of dinner plates, and then fills a fruit that swells visibly overnight in August. All of that is built from water, sunlight and nutrients drawn from a surprisingly small root zone. The roots are shallow and greedy, and they hate drying out.
Garden compost solves both problems at once. It holds water like a sponge, so the soil around those roots stays damp for days rather than hours, and it releases nitrogen, potassium and a long list of trace elements slowly through the summer. It also improves the structure of both heavy clay and light sandy soils, which means air can get down to the roots. Pumpkins in particular sulk in compacted, airless ground.
If you can give these plants a planting hole filled with well-rotted compost, top it up with a mulch in midsummer and water it with a bit of liquid feed, you will get fruit that a shop-bought bag of compost simply cannot match.
Any decent mix of greens and browns will rot down, but you can tilt your heap towards the crops you are feeding. Aim for roughly two or three parts brown material to one part green by volume, and chop anything thick into pieces no bigger than your thumb.
Comfrey is worth its own mention. Plant a patch near the heap and use the leaves both in the compost and steeped in a bucket of water as a potassium-rich feed once the fruit starts to swell.
A heap about a cubic metre — roughly a metre wide, a metre tall and a metre deep — heats up best. Build it in layers: a few inches of browns, a couple of inches of greens, a sprinkle of soil, then repeat. Water each layer as you go if the material is dry; the whole heap should feel like a wrung-out sponge, not sodden.
Turn it every two to three weeks with a fork, moving the outside to the middle and the middle to the outside. You should feel real heat coming off the core in the first fortnight — that is the sign it is working. If it smells sour or slimy, you have too much green; add cardboard and turn it. If nothing is happening at all, it is too dry or too brown, so water it and mix in grass clippings.
In a good summer, a well-managed heap will be ready in eight to twelve weeks. In a cold, wet winter it may take five or six months. Cover it with a tarpaulin or old carpet in autumn to stop it turning into a soggy pudding.
Finished compost is dark, crumbly and smells sweet and earthy, a bit like woodland soil. You should not be able to recognise what went in, apart from the odd eggshell or twig. If it is still warm, it is still working — leave it alone.
For melons and pumpkins, the ideal is compost that is a year old and thoroughly mellow. Freshly finished compost can be a little strong for seedlings, but these big, robust plants will take it happily as long as it is spread a couple of weeks before planting so it can settle into the soil.
Dig a hole roughly a spade's depth and a spade's width for each plant, and fill it with a 50:50 mix of garden compost and the soil you removed. Add a couple of handfuls of blood, fish and bone and work it in. Plant into that pocket and water well.
Once the plants are growing strongly, spread a mulch of compost five to eight centimetres deep around them, keeping it clear of the stems. This feeds the vines, smothers weeds and locks moisture into the soil. Through July and August, water generously two or three times a week rather than little and often, and give a diluted comfrey or nettle feed every ten days once flowers set.
You can also make a simple compost tea: half-fill a sack with mature compost, dangle it in a water butt for a week, then dilute the resulting liquid to the colour of weak tea and use it on the plants. It is not a substitute for good soil, but it gives fruiting crops a noticeable nudge.
Do all this, and by late September you will be lifting pumpkins that need two hands and cutting melons that smell sweet before you even slice them. It all starts with a heap in the corner of the garden.
Start with a balanced feed, then switch to a high-potassium tomato feed once flowers appear. Avoid overfeeding, which can reduce fruit set.
I must explain to you how all this mistaken idea of denouncing pleasure and praising pain was born and I will give you a complete account of the system
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I must explain to you how all this mistaken idea of denouncing pleasure and praising pain was born and I will give you a complete account of the system
Reply
I must explain to you how all this mistaken idea of denouncing pleasure and praising pain was born and I will give you a complete account of the system
Reply
I must explain to you how all this mistaken idea of denouncing pleasure and praising pain was born and I will give you a complete account of the system
Reply
A small polytunnel or glasshouse extends the season for heat-loving crops. Site it in full sun and ensure good ventilation.
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