Plant Sales: how to make money despite bloody APHA!

A couple of years back, I wrote about the situation regarding APHA (Animal and Plant Health Authority, part of DEFRA, which used to be MAFF) concerning the unworkable and unenforceable new Plant Passports (PPs) Directive which, as it stood, was the DEATH of plant sales in the UK: they changed a few of their rules, but we were still left in a situation where their rules about selling plants by post has impacted disastrously on small sellers.

That second post, from late January 2020, attracted a heartfelt wail from one reader last week, along these lines: 

"OOF well there goes my hopes and dreams of growing and selling to try making a living! 

So I was thinking, as I have social anxiety, I wanted to post plants from eBay sales as I couldn't do car boot. I am thinking about alternatives like selling to resellers but then I wouldn't make anywhere near as much."

My response was:

"I feel your pain... this is EXACTLY what we have been saying to APHA. Once we sell a plant face to face, we have no control over where it goes.

But those are the rules. Face to face keeps any pests and diseases local: posting spreads them all over the country. "  

And as far as APHA are concerned, that's the end of that. So what happens to all us small plant sellers? 

 

We end up only selling locally, face to face, and that means a sad round of taking stalls as village fetes (*groan*) , Yellow Book open gardens (*slightly better*) or specialist plant sales, where the stall fee is usually quite high and sales are rarely correspondingly high, unless you happen to have their exact specialist plants for sale, but if you do, then you are competing with all the other stalls....

I'm not even going to mention car boot sales, because they are completely useless: people are there to get something cheap, so you need a large van full of annuals grown cheaply from seed, in full flower, for 50p each.

Personally, I absolutely detest standing on a stall: I do enjoy talking to the customers, because I love talking about plants, but honestly, they would mostly be picking my brains about their garden's problems, under the guise of: 

Them: "Would this plant do well in deep shade under some conifers on a north-facing border?" 

Me: "Not really, I'm afraid. It really needs a reliably moist soil and full sun," (*mutters to self "as is clearly written on its label, you dummy" *)

Them: "Oh dear. What would you recommend, then?"

Me: *offers them a plant* "This particular plant would grow quite well -"

Them: *interrupting me* "Well is there anything else we can do?"

Me: *somewhat bemused - anything else? * "Well, you could consider improving the soil in that area..." *goes on to lecture for ten minutes about how to improve the soil, lift the canopy, reducing shade, altering shape of bed etc while fourteen people listen avidly, making notes.*

So, to get to the point, although I don't have social anxiety as such, I do hate, loathe and detest the waste of time spent standing at stalls.. The profit/time ratio is hellishly bad, unless you have two acres of polytunnels and a van, and can take 400 plants all at the peak of flowering - because frankly, that's all that sells. 

Prior to the APHA law, I used to sell by post via eBay sales, which had its own drawbacks, but at least meant that my time was my own: I could put up the for sale posts after work, and I could pack and post at a time that suited me. Although, even then, I found that I was wasting a lot of time going to the post office which, for me, meant driving there and back, which was an expense, plus the time in queueing etc etc... it only really works if you either sell quite a lot of plants and can do one post run a week: or if you are selling specialist plants, at a high price. 

Oh, and there's also the nightmare of plants getting delayed in the post, or squashed: so the customer demands a replacement, and that means more hassle... so, was selling by post really the only alternative to standing on a stall?

I thought long and hard, and decided that I loved producing the plants, but hated selling them, so I needed to find someone to sell them for me.

This led to a search for someone who enjoyed standing on a stall all day, and who could add my plants to their stock, and sell them for a commission. I thought some sort of partnership would be the perfect answer: I'd grow my plants, drop off a car-load to them every so often, they'd do the boring bit, and I'd take back the unsold ones, and the money - less commission - for the sales. It need not have been another plant seller: it could have been someone selling garden ornaments, perhaps, or arty-crafty items. 

I thought we would come to an arrangement, either they would pay me an agreed amount for the plant, and sell it for as much as they thought they could, keeping the profit: or they'd sell them at my marked prices, and take a percentage, which we would agree. Frankly, I was prepared to agree to offer anything up to 50% commission.

So I scouted round some plant sales, and approached a couple of the stallholders. I actually found a woman who sold plants, who was interested: but we just couldn't quite get to grips with all the details. What would happen if my plants died while in her care? What if she thought I'd priced them too high? Could I produce the plants that she asked me to provide? What if any of my plants had pests or diseases which spread to her plants? What if any of my plants were toxic, and she sold one to someone who complained, or fell ill? Who would be responsible?

It all became just too difficult, so we didn't take it any further.

Then I noticed that quite a few people had stalls in their front gardens, with an honesty box. I contacted one - I popped a note through the door saying that I was considering doing something similar, and did she have any advice? She very generously invited me round, and showed me her set-up: she had a massive garden, so she was able to grow large numbers of plants, which meant that she had a good stock and was able to put out a good selection of plants every day. 

There were problems: not everyone put the money through the letterbox (she'd tried an honesty box attached to the stall, and it has been broken into several times), and a couple of times, she'd had whole trays of plants stolen. This taught her not to put them out in trays, but to put individual pots out, as they made it harder for someone to quickly steal a whole bunch of them. These days, we would have camera doorbells, which would probably reduce that problem. But, she said, it provided enough money to cover her costs of pots and compost etc.

This wouldn't work for me, as I live in a cul-de-sac, and you need to have what is called "passing trade".

I did try having an occasional Plant Sale in my own front garden, publicising it on social media for a couple of weeks beforehand... it did work, I sold quite a few plants, but I noticed that people would note the word "sale" and would expect everything to be super-cheap. And of course I would have to stand there and take the money, which was as bad as standing on a stall, and I also had to stand there long after the official closing time, because odd people would turn up and wander round the garden. I did also have one rather scary occasion where a particular woman, who had wanted to buy some plants where were not for sale, sneaked back after dusk and would probably have stolen them, had my security light not come on as she was halfway up the front path. 

So there were problems with selling from home.

Well, I can't change where I live, so I went searching for a different type of outlet - and during a visit to a National Trust property, I'd noticed that the tea shop had plants for sale.

There aren't any NT properties, or similar establishments, near to me, so I went in search of tea shops. They'd be the perfect outlet: they attract the sort of people who have gardens, who have the leisure to sit around in tea shops, who are likely to buy the lavender-bags and fancy notepaper which such places often sell.

Alas, there were no tea shops near to me, other than some in the town centre, which were not suitable for having a plant stall: either they didn't have any pavement space, or they would have been too difficult for me to access them for restocking, which would usually be outside of office hours.

Eventually, I  found a local farm shop, which also stocked things like locally made honey, hand-crafted cakes and biscuits, and they turned out to be brilliant.  They let me have a permanent stall outside the door, with an honesty box, and I paid them a commission on all money taken. 

I was initially hoping that they would take the money at the till, because that would ensure payment!! However, the manager explained that if my money went through the till, it counted as "income" for the shop, and that they preferred it if I would have the money put in the honesty box, then just pay them the commission monthly: they weren't trying to avoid paying tax, because I paid them by bank transfer, all official: they just didn't want the hassle of having to sort out which sales were mine, how much commission they'd take off, how much they'd pay me, etc. Much simpler for them, to take the honesty box route.

I used to go and check it 2 or 3 times a week on my way home from work: watering the plants, taking new "stock" with me to replace any sales or any drooping plants, and emptying the honesty box. 

Because it was a farm shop, it had a lot of customers of the "right" sort ie not modern mums with no time for gardening, but senior folks who were prepared to pay a bit more for their meat and veg, and who had time to browse. It also had its own car park and shop frontage, and the owners lived on site, so although it wasn't gated, it was pretty secure, and it was ok to leave the plants on the stall all the time: I don't think they would have agreed, if they had had to take the plants in every night, and put them out every morning.

I will be perfectly honest with you, it took a LOT of nerve to go into the shop and ask. 

I asked for the manager, and then explained that I was a local plant grower, I wanted an outlet, I would do all the work ie I made the stall, painted it in their house colours: and it was totally my responsibility to check and water the plants, and to empty the box. They literally had to do nothing. 

 

My first bench was quite simple: literally just a low bench, with a grid of trellis to stop the plants falling over: a blackboard above it, on which I could promote anything particularly good: a box underneath for recycling plant pots (I got quite a few back, which could then be re-used) (and yes, I also got quite a lot of unwanted used pots which I would then have to dispose of!) and an honesty box bolted to the frame.

 

After the first year, they had a new porch built onto the front of the shop, and I was promoted to The Front Door, which made quite a difference to the sales.

By then I'd made a more decorative blackboard, as you can see, and things were looking a bit more professional.

In recognition of this, the manager had a pair of matching benches made for me, one each side of the door.

I was there for about three years, until I lost my rented nursery, and could no longer produce the volume of plants that you need in order to have an updated selection.

I made some money, not much: I could have made more if I'd specialised, or if I'd been a bit more savvy about growing annuals from seed, and a bit more savvy about keeping up with trends on tv (I don't have a tv) so I would  know which plants were suddenly popular, having been mentioned by Monty or whoever. Yes, I lost a few plants where people didn't put in any money, or just put in a few coppers, or - memorably - put Monopoly money in the box.... but on the whole, most of the plants were paid for. 

I learned quite early on that Big is Better, because small plants dry out too quickly: and I learned that people need very clear prices, hence each plant having a gigantic yellow plastic label.

In conclusion, then, I would say to you, don't give up on selling plants: if you can't have a stall in your own front garden, then consider finding an outlet: think about your target audience, who is going to buy your plants? Where are they likely to shop? Think about how to make it as easy for the outlet as possible, and although this is really hard to do, you will get better results if you visit in person rather than writing to them, because firstly it's harder to say no to someone in person, whereas it is very easy to ignore a letter: and secondly, they can see that you are sensible and honest, so they are more likely to give you a chance.

And through all this, remember: APHA are not doing this deliberately to ruin our business, nor to prevent us from making money. They were tasked with preventing the spread of pest and disease, and making it possible to trace back outbreaks, to see where they originated, and to stop them spreading further.  

I have seen the devastating effects of Ash Die Back, and now of Box Moth Caterpillar, both of which were "introduced" to our safe, secure little island, when there were no controls, and now they are ravaging the countryside and our gardens, respectively. 

We are the people who shouted "something must be done!" and this legislation, for all it's flaws, is what the government is doing.

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Pleasing Combinations: Lavender and Agapanthus

I was talking about lavender in an article recently, and mentioned Agapanthus: and then I saw this, and thought it was so nice that I wanted to share it.

A lot of people plant Agapanthus, and a lot of people buy the expensive white ones: and are then disappointed, either because they come up blue instead of white (oh, these mis-labelling nurseries!), or because the white ones, being less hardy than the common old blue ones, don't survive for very long.

However, there's nothing wrong with enjoying the blue ones: and here they are, planted behind and above a row of Lavender, in an irrigated but very well drained bank.

Looks good, doesn't it?

I thought the white Hydrangea Annabelle (my favourite hydrangea) behind them were a particularly nice part of the presentation, as they "pull the eye in", as the garden designers say. 

Blue is a colour that tends to fade into the background, so it's always better to have blue at the front, white at the back, otherwise you lose the impact of the blue ones.  So this planting combination works particularly well, with the white backdrop.

Interestingly, I have always read (in gardening books and on the internet) that Agapanthus should always be grown in a pot, with restricted roots - ie, lots of bulbs, crammed into a pot, and never repotted no matter how crowded they get.

This, allegedly, makes them flower more extravagantly.

But these ones - in my photo - are just planted out in the soil, not crammed together in a pot at all. They don't seem to be suffering any loss of flowering, and they seem perfectly happy there - to the point where they are seeding themselves all over the bed!  

I have wondered if the story about keeping Agapanthus locked up in pots is more to do with their hardiness, because you can move the pots inside over the winter, to protect them: I know that several of my Clients do exactly that, the pots get shuffled into the garage or the greenhouse over the winter.

And again, going back to those white ones, maybe it's because the white ones are, generally speaking, less hardy than the blue ones?

Either way, these particular blue ones are as hardy as they come, and they are looking fab!

 

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Grafted Japanese Maples: look out for them reverting!

First the botany lesson - nearly all the miniature Japanese Maples which are sold today are grafted trees: and if you didn't know, grafting is the process whereby two compatible plants are cut-and-pasted together.

It means that a "beautiful" top is grafted on to a "less beautiful but very sturdy" bottom, in order to produce large numbers of spectacular plants - in this case, trees - as quickly as possible.

The top part - the "scion" as it's called - is the part we want to own: it may have shapely leaves, or fantastically coloured leaves (or both, as in this Acer palmatum dissectum, left!), or it might have a weeping habit, meaning that the leaves droop over and downwards, instead of growing upwards. 

And yes, our dear friend the Salix Kilmarnock (of which I have written many, many articles... just type Kilmarnock into the Search box, top left of the screen) is in that category, it's a weeping, grafted tree.

The bottom part - the "rootstock" is usually something quite ordinary, but something which is sturdy,  reliable, not prone to disease etc.

And the problem arises when the bottom part, the rootstock, decides that it's time to get in on the action, and produce some shoots of its own. 

Why is this a problem? Because the rootstock is often - not always, but usually - so very vigorous that it will take over the entire tree.

Salix kilmarnock are little devils for this, and I have written about them several times: but it also applies to a lot of the decorative Acers, or Japanese Maples.

Here's one I encountered a couple of weeks back: the top part is a very nice purple-leaved variety.

 

 Ah,but look lower down: what's that, right at the very bottom?

There, can you see it?

It's a cheeky little sprout of non-purple leaves, which means that this part of the tree is not the same as the upper, purple-leaved part.

And yes, this sprout is clearly growing from below the graft point.

Here's a better shot of the actual graft.

Can you see that deep V-shaped wedge?

That's where the upper part, the scion, was sharpened - rather like a pencil -  and pushed firmly down into a carefully-prepared split in the rootstock.

That is a somewhat simplified explanation, but that's basically how it works. Then the whole join is wrapped in grafting tape until the two parts knit together and become one tree. 

It's coincidental that the scion, upper, part has rather gray bark, while the rootstock part has bark that appears to be very much whiter, but it does make a good illustration of the mechanism of grafting.

And the problem, of course, is that if we left this little sprout, it would flourish and grow, which would make the tree look a bit odd: all purple up above, then this one colourful branch down below.

Plus, because the rootstock is generally "stronger" than the scion, it is likely to grow very vigorously. Often, when this happens, the growth above the graft then dies off, because the resources of the tree are being pushed into that vigorous lower branch. 

So when we have grafted trees, it's important to keep checking for any low-down sprouts like this, and to remove them as soon as they are seen. When they are tiny, like this one, you can gently pull them away from the trunk: any bigger and they will need to be cut off with secateurs, to avoid damaging the bark.

And yes, having spotted this, I am now going to weed and top dress the pot, as well!

 

 

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It's Scything Season again!

Yes, it's time to knock down those wildflower meadows!

Here's one of "my" meadows, a long thin garden with mown paths, leaving blocks of long grass.

Most of the blocks have trees in them, which makes it much easier for the mower - they just run round the paths, zoom, zoom! - but a pain in the backside for the scyther (that's me) because I have to carefully go round each trunk, which is fiddly, and takes time.

However, that's all part of being a professional gardener, you have to do what you are paid to do...

If this were my garden, I would not have the grass going all the way round the trees, I'd have each tree in a cleared planting hole, because I believe that trees grow better without the competition of the grass: plus, it means we can see the trunks, and can spot any defects or damage early on.

As a case in point, here is the Acer Grove back in 2019 when it was created: 

There are five dear little Japanese Maples (Acers), planted in a loose arrangement, within one of the wildflower blocks.

The owner chose a nice selection of different leaf shapes, and colours, and we thought it was going to be interesting, to see how they grew in comparison to each other.

You can see by the colour of the grass, that it has recently been scythed: this work was done in the July of that year, and the wildflower blocks had been established for some years before that: the newly-scythed area is always pale and wan, until the newly-cut grass stems have had a chance to recover.

I have continued to scythe this area every year, usually in late July:  carefully going round the Acers, of course.

They haven't really grown a great deal in that time, and earlier this year, when I was working in that part of the garden, I did notice that a couple of them had some dead branches.

But it's been a horrible year or two, weather-wise, and a lot of the decorative Acers are struggling: in my own garden, at home, I lost one of my well-established Acers - cultivar Osakazuki, which I'd had for about ten years, so it was rather sad to lose it.

So I didn't give it too much thought,  and the wildflowers grew up as usual.

Then, last week, I was sent down there with my scythe:

Ooer, what's happened?

The Acer Grove has been completely smothered by the long grass, to the point where you can't actually see the trees!

Alas, closer investigation revealed that two of the trees had died altogether, and the other three were not looking brilliant.

 There was nothing to do, but to pull out the two dead ones, and scythe carefully around the others.

The lesson I take from this is as follows: it is not a good idea to allow the grass to grow right up and around your ornamental trees.

If we'd been able to see them, we would have noticed earlier that they were struggling, and we could have taken steps, which in this garden (with its very light, sandy soil) would have meant mulching and watering.

As it is, they've gone now, and the Acer Grove is somewhat depleted.

I shall have a quiet word with the Client about the possibility of replacing them:  and if we do get some new Acers, I shall see if I can tactfully suggest that we consider making a woodland-style bed around them, mulched with bark or woodchip, perhaps: instead of allowing the grass to grow back all around them.

We shall see...

 

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