By: Blonde Two
We have just had a lovely bank holiday weekend down here in the South West; us and lots and lots of visitors.
All were welcome as long as they:
a) Behaved themselves.
b) Boosted the local economy (it needs it!)
c) Smiled.
All the visitors that I saw were doing all of those things, which was lovely; but I didn’t see many of them because Mr Blonde Two and I had made a pact not to drive anywhere on either Sunday or Monday. This meant no visits at all to Dartmoor (but also no horrid traffic.)
We did cheat once and take the truck to the velopark because I am far too scaredy to ride a bike on the road yet (much less numbumness this time!) But for the rest of the time, we invented adventure in our small urban garden:
1) Make a fire, forage for beef (in the freezer) and cook things. I do love my new camp frying pan (well ok, it isn’t strictly mine, but let’s pretend because I like it so much).
2) Grow extra healthy looking cabbages. This requires both care and a good ear for a melody (cabbages apparently like Irish folk songs.)
3) Create a vegetable patch where there wasn’t one before. This was to help house an ever expanding lettuce and pak choi forest. A bit like the garden of Eden but I don’t think God knew about grow-bags back then (if he had, the creation story might have been very different).
I hang my head in shame. What a lovely, neat garden. I have lost my strawberry patch under a mass of wild flowers that look so pretty I can’t bring myself to dig them out. My pond has a blanket of duckweed that I haven’t dealt with because it is stuff full of porriwiggles and baby frogs. I can’t mow the lawn for little frogs, so I have done it with hedging shears and it looks like a hedgehog’s haircut. The only good bit is the tomato patch – in the front porch. (Well, it’s sunny in there.)