Every autumn, British gardens produce a crop nobody planted. Rake it up, bag it, forget about it, and twelve months later you have one of the finest soil improvers money can't really buy — because nobody sells it in quantity at a sensible price. Leaf mould is simply rotted leaves, broken down by fungi rather than the bacteria that drive a hot compost heap. The result is dark, crumbly, faintly sweet-smelling stuff that holds moisture like a sponge, conditions heavy clay and gives sandy soils some much-needed body.
It is also completely free. No bags of peat-free compost to haul home, no fertiliser to measure out. Just leaves, water, air and patience. As a mulch it suppresses weeds and feeds the soil food web. Dug in lightly, it opens up compacted ground. Sieved finely, it makes a lovely seed-sowing mix when blended with garden compost and a little grit. Best of all, it keeps fallen leaves out of the green waste bin and turns a chore into a resource.
Not all leaves rot at the same speed, and knowing the difference saves you a lot of confusion later.
If you have the space, run two or three bags or bins in parallel, each labelled with the autumn it was filled. That way you always have something finishing while the new crop is starting.
The classic method is the humblest: a black bin bag. Fill it with damp leaves, punch a handful of holes in the sides with a garden fork, tie the top loosely and tuck it behind the shed. The holes let air in and excess water out, and the black plastic holds warmth and moisture. Don't overfill — leave room for the contents to settle.
For larger gardens, a wire mesh cage is more efficient. Make a cylinder roughly a metre across from galvanised mesh or chicken wire, held in place with a few stakes, and simply tip the leaves in. Rain gets in, air circulates freely, and you can turn the whole heap with a fork once or twice a year. A three-bay setup lets you have one bay filling, one rotting and one ready to use.
Reusable garden waste sacks, old compost bags and even sturdy cardboard boxes all work. Whatever you choose, keep it out of full sun if you can — a shady corner behind a hedge is ideal, and it keeps the bags from drying out.
Moisture is where most leaf mould goes wrong. Leaves need to be damp when they go in — think of a wrung-out sponge, not a soggy mess. If you're bagging dry leaves after a rainless week, water them as you fill, a little at a time, and give the bag a shake to spread the damp through.
Once bagged, leave them alone. Check every few months. If the contents feel bone dry, add water. If they're slimy and smell sour, the bag is too wet and airless — add more holes and mix in some dry leaves. A handful of soil or a scoop of last year's leaf mould sprinkled through the leaves introduces the fungi that do the work, though it isn't essential.
Temperatures don't need to be high. Leaf mould quietly gets on with it through winter, slows in summer, and speeds up again in autumn. The one thing it can't tolerate is drying out completely, which stalls the process for months.
After a year, fast leaves will have turned into a coarse, dark mulch with some leaf shapes still visible. That's perfectly usable. After two years, even oak and beech will have collapsed into a fine, crumbly material that feels like a cross between compost and loam.
To judge readiness, grab a handful and rub it between your fingers. If it falls apart easily and smells earthy, it's done. Sieve out any twiggy bits and return them to the next batch.
Start a bag this October and you'll have a free, peat-free soil improver ready for the autumn after next. It costs nothing but a little raking — and the garden gives it back many times over.
A balanced can with a fine rose makes watering pots easier, especially for seedlings and delicate greenhouse plants.
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
Choose shade-tolerant flowers such as foxgloves, hellebores, and wood anemones to feed bees in darker corners during spring and summer.
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