
Every autumn, the same ritual plays out across the country. Leaves tumble from the trees, settle on lawns and paths, and get swept into bags or dumped at the council tip. It feels like a chore, but those fallen leaves are one of the most valuable resources a gardener can get hold of, and they cost absolutely nothing. Leaf mould is the reward for a little patience: a dark, crumbly, sweet-smelling material that improves soil structure, holds moisture and feeds the life beneath your feet.
Unlike compost, leaf mould is not particularly rich in nutrients. It is low in the nitrogen, phosphorus and potassium that shop-bought fertilisers shout about. What it does brilliantly is condition the soil. Think of it as a soil improver rather than a plant food. It opens up heavy clay so roots can push through, and it helps sandy soils hang on to water instead of letting it drain away. For anyone growing vegetables, roses, or a decent lawn, it is quietly indispensable.
Not all leaves break down at the same speed, and a few are better left out of your bags altogether. The general rule is that thin, soft leaves rot down quickest, while thick, leathery or waxy leaves take far longer.
If you only have a small garden, do not worry about sorting meticulously. Mixing a few slower leaves in with the quick ones simply means the whole batch takes a bit longer.
You do not need a compost bin, a shredder or any special equipment to make leaf mould. A few bin bags and a quiet corner of the garden will do the job beautifully.
Rake or gather your leaves on a dry day, ideally after a spell without rain so they are not sodden. Stuff them into black plastic bin bags or old compost sacks. Fill each bag loosely, leaving room for air, then punch or pierce a handful of drainage holes in the sides and base with a garden fork. This lets rainwater in and prevents the contents turning into a stinking, slimy mess.
Tie the tops loosely, or leave them open if the bags are in a sheltered spot, and stack them behind a shed, against a north-facing wall or under a hedge. Water them if the leaves are very dry, then leave them alone. That is genuinely all there is to it. Check every few months. If the contents feel bone dry, add a splash of water. If they are waterlogged, turn the bag or add a few more holes.
Shredding leaves before bagging speeds things up considerably. Running a lawnmower over a pile on the patio, or giving them a quick pass with a strimmer in a bin, will roughly halve the breakdown time. It also reduces the volume, meaning fewer bags for the same haul.
If you have a large garden or a generous supply of leaves from nearby trees, a wire cage is worth the effort. Make a cylinder about a metre across using chicken wire or plastic mesh, held in place with a few sturdy stakes. Fill it with leaves, press them down lightly as you go, and water each layer if the weather is dry.
A cage holds far more than bags and allows better airflow, so the leaves tend to rot down more evenly. Cover the top with a piece of old carpet, a tarpaulin or a few weighted-down bin bags to stop the leaves blowing away and to keep the centre moist. Turn the heap once or twice a year if you remember, but it is not essential. A cage of mixed leaves will usually be ready in twelve to eighteen months.
Leaf mould passes through recognisable stages. In the first few months, the leaves look much as they did on the tree, just darker and damper. By the end of the first year, they have broken into a crumbly, brittle state. By year two, you should have a dark brown, soft, earthly material with a pleasant woodland smell, and no obvious leaf shapes left.
If you open a bag and find a few stubborn sycamore leaves still intact, do not despair. Sieve the finished material through a garden riddle and return the coarse leftovers to the next batch. The fine stuff is ready to use straight away.
Best of all, leaf mould keeps for years. Store it in sacks in a dry corner and use it whenever you need it. Your autumn leaves are not rubbish. They are next year's garden, sitting in a bag behind the shed, quietly turning into gold.
Early spring bulbs provide vital nectar for bees emerging from winter. Plant crocus, snowdrops and hellebores in sunny, sheltered spots for best results.
Comments
ALina Kelian
19th May 2018 ReplyBloomingaspen No rushing, no fuss — just thoughtful notes and practical help, written by people who care. ullamco laboris nisi ut aliquip ex ea commodo consequat.
Rlex Kelian
19th May 2018 ReplyBloomingaspen We spend our time finding what works so you don't have to, and sharing exactly what made the difference. ullamco laboris nisi ut aliquip commodo.
Roboto Alex
21th May 2018 ReplyBloomingaspen We spend our time finding what works so you don't have to, and sharing exactly what made the difference. ullamco laboris nisi ut aliquip ex ea commodo consequat.