I guess it was inevitable. Recent good weather, time on my hands, a garden in need of TLC and the prospect of living on a pension meant it was time to ‘grow my own’.
Once the garden was no longer required for a children’s playground, it’s main purpose had been to provide a backdrop for drinking wine on the patio. The hidden section I’d wistfully set aside for wild flowers, had despite my best efforts, been taken over by rough grass and weeds. Now it would have to earn its keep. My determination stopped short of Good Life self-sufficiency, with cows, goats and chickens, championed by Barbara and Tom in the 70’s sitcom, but, I thought, even I should be able to manage a few home grown vegetables.
Advised by a good friend who knew about gardening I rescued the spade and fork from the depths of garden shed and set to clearing the grass and weeds with determination. For those unfamiliar with what goes on beneath the surface of a patch of weeds, I offer the following lay observations. Weeds fall into three categories. First, there are a few innocuous ones that have roots near the surface and are easily dealt with. Just chuck them in the bin. Second, there are evil ones, of the dandelion variety, that disguise themselves as surface dwellers, but underneath have massive tap roots that go down deeper than my spade and fork and do not give up without a fight. Then there are the third type that form an under the surface network of in interconnected roots resembling the London Tube map. Leave one little bit of those roots in the soil and they will return ready to wreak revenge by spreading themselves with greater vigour and determination. This was going to be harder than it looked.
Progress was slow. Muscles I never knew existed protested at the exertion. My brain, which, at the slightest hint of sunshine, recalled the prior, and much more agreeable purpose of a garden. Undeterred by such temptations I persisted over the next week.
For inspiration I scoured seed catalogues, illustrated with abundant and tempting crops. I splashed out on a some packets, compost, seed trays and a few other accessories no vegetable patch should be without, banishing the thought that the same outlay, would have furnished me with a rather good case of wine. It would be worth it in the end I told myself.
Of course, as anyone that knows will tell you, the real benefit gained from gardening is time in the fresh air, a feeling of well being and the satisfaction of seeing a job well done. Anything that grows as a result of my exertions will be a bonus. Watch this space!
