Hoe, Hoe, Hoe your plot, gently down the hill
Merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily, that is how you till
Strim, strim, strim your plot, like a man inspired
Shout, shout, shout a bit, as your arms get tired
Merrily, merrily, verily, verily, I'm reet pooped t'neet!
Drastic state of plot :
requires drastic action (see above; sing merry ditty).
Much neater now and actually able to harvest some stuff. Runner and French beans - picked for the first time this year on August Bank Holiday. Never, Ever, Ever have I been so late picking beans...... At All. Mind you I could probably have got some a couple of weeks ago if I hadn't been so generally fed up with the poor state of it all this year.
And some taters, which I confidently expect to follow Gnome's experience of allotment taters. But happier news with the shallots, which I thought I'd picked and lost, cos I couldn't find them anywhere. Turns out I hadn't picked 'em at all and the little chickabiddies were waiting patiently all the time; good-oh, pickled onions after all!! There aren't many
but, as they say In Edinburgh, mony a mickle maks a muckle. Especially when pickled. Pickled muckle. Lovely.And the Lovage has recovered from it's drenching.
This lot ended up in Mrs M's damn fine fish stew tonight. If you haven't tried lovage in a fish stew I recommend it.Some flowerage on the plot too, including a fine bank of what my mother insisted on calling Nasturtians. 
Sadly, they ain't mine but are on the adjacent plot of the Gardener formerly known as Inconstant. Who is showing signs of reverting to type; I'm sure there is a plant breeding term for that but can't remember it. Instant fame for anyone who can suggest it.
Sadly, they ain't mine but are on the adjacent plot of the Gardener formerly known as Inconstant. Who is showing signs of reverting to type; I'm sure there is a plant breeding term for that but can't remember it. Instant fame for anyone who can suggest it.Anyway, the plot (or at least the top third of it - mony a mickle etc) now looks positively svelte.
Sadly the same cannot be said of the Gardener now known as Tubbso.
In my mind I have this notion that I'm skinny. As a child I was a very picky eater, and I didn't reach 10 stone until I was 40. Since then slumpage seems to have occurred and no amount of red wine seems able to shift it. Might these facts be connected? Do I care? Well, a bit, but not that much!!
2 comments:
My allotment looks much the same - I fought the weeds and the weeds won. Still, like you there's some crops amongst all the weeds so I'm exercising selective blindness as I pick my squash and runner beans, and promising myself I'll do better next year.
i hear you . . . about the Red Wine!
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