Once again there seems to have been an election sized gap between blog posts. Sorry about that. The good news is, the seeds I planted a few weeks ago are emerging from the soil like wispy blades of grass.
Carrots and parsnips are sprouting in wiggly lines (I could pretend this is to confuse the slugs, but really I’m just no good at doing things neatly. ) And tufty bits of greenery are appearing around the new raspberry canes (along with the usual dandelions.)
However many years I’ve been gardening, I never fail to get stupidly excited about seeds coming to life. I know that’s what they’re supposed to do – but it still amazes me how stuff that looks like grit from under the doormat can turn into plants. Plus you can eat them. Unlike grit from under the doormat.
It’s a bit like having babies. Even when you’ve had them before, it’s still just as amazing when you have another one. Admittedly, I’ve only got three. Perhaps by number 12, it’s like hanging out the washing.
Anyway, last weekend I got the red onions and spring onions in. This weekend I’m planning to get the potatoes in. That doesn’t actually mean I’ll get the potatoes in. I’m only doing King Edwards this year, because 1. We don’t really eat new potatoes 2. I can’t be arsed / don’t have time to do any more. And now that we’ve moved to Devon the kids are more interested in the beach than the allotment.
Indoors, and to Unhusband’s annual annoyance, stuff is sprouting all over the windowsills and radiators. Unfortunately, I forgot to check how accurately the kids were watering the various pots and trays, so apparently all the windowsills now need sanding and repainting. But at least we have loads of tomato, pepper , lettuce, artichoke and sweet pea seedlings – some of which I really need to move outdoors. And this week I planted some climbing French beans – cobra as they seem to be so reliable and prolific. The weather forecast looks great, so I reckon ignore the gardening guide books and get planting. I’m banking on there not being another frost ….
I’ve run out of plant pots now, but the recycling box always comes in handy. And when that runs out, there’s always the neighbours’. I wonder if Monty Don has ever raided next door’s bins?