Many, many years ago my daughter’s father bought me a tiny picture called ‘Roses around my door’. It’s a little watercolour print measuring about two inches square in a wide white embossed mount and it’s hung on my bedroom wall for what must now be about 22 years. He bought it for me because he knew that in my romantic soul I wasn’t really happy living in our flat in London and would far rather be in a little cottage somewhere with the aforesaid door and roses. Well, Dear Reader, it did come to pass (not with him) and I now reside in that very cottage with those very roses.
TG and I slaved in the front garden over the weekend as the manor house to which our house is one of the lodges (yes I know that was a complicated sentence) is open at the weekend and we feel duty bound to make everything look neat and pretty and so we pruned and weeded and cut hedges and ended up spending the whole of saturday out there. As I was standing back admiring our handywork the picture came to mind so here it is in the flesh (well petal)
Elsewhere in the veggie patch things are coming on apace as everything seems to be suddenly putting on a growing spurt. Some of the veg is in mine and the ACL’s raised beds that we built and some on the veg is being grown a la Nigel Slater in pots. I have mini aubergines, tomatoes and courgettes in pots as well as potatoes in old chicken feed sacks. The main crop of beans (French and runner) are doing well as our the main crop tomatoes, salads and spring onions. The carrots were a bit hit and miss so I’ve planted some more and the peas will be ready in a minute.
When you think that we were 3 feet under in snow 6 months ago, nature is pretty amazing isn’t it? And when I think that all of the veg has been grown from seed, that I have weeded (endlessly) and watered (almost as endlessly) I think that’s pretty amazing of me too!! Growing vegetables takes a lot of patience, some luck, a great deal of back breaking digging and weeding and there are those detractors out there who say ‘pah’ (they do I’ve heard them) and go on about shop bought being just as good. ‘Bah humbug’ (a little unseasonably) I say to them. What with the roses and the vegetables, my garden cup just about runneth over!