A Big Green Leaf

Emma T over at one of my favourite blogs A Nice Green Leaf is celebrating the half-way point of the year and the sheer green-ness of the world with a Big Green Leaf shout-out. I love this idea as I'm more into veggie growing than flowers at the moment. All of my pics were taken in failing light last night so not the best. But - hey - I learnt how to do a slideshow too!

It's All About Me

OK, here goes. I can put off this Six Random Things About Me post no longer.

I've been tagged a few times (the latest by Victoria) but I'm going to tweak it a bit (because I'm lazy. There you go! Seven random things.....) so I'm dispensing with the rules and everyone else has been tagged I reckon.

Freckles. Lots of them. All of my children have them too, but none as many as me. I don't mind them, never have done, but it does mean I do not tan. At all.

Food. Oh, I love food so much. To the point of gluttony (hence the need to lose at least two stone. And no, it's not baby weight). I was an incredibly fussy eater as a child; I remember sitting next to my anxious mother while the doctor reassured her that a diet of crisps would not harm me. So take heed, parents of fussy children.

Only child. Yep, that's me. And while I grew up next to my best friend, also a singleton, and so did not have a lonely childhood, it is when you're older that you feel the lack of siblings. All those unspoken dreams, expectations plus the deaths and divorces that you have to shoulder on your own.

Tandem skydive. No I shall not be repeating this, although it was pure exhilaration. And no, for the record, everyone could not hear me screaming as I exited the plane. That is just a nasty rumour.

Breastfeeding and Home Education. Now I sound like an old hippy, which I'm not. But I've done both, with varying success. Very good at the former and feel quite passionate about it. Have been asked to consider becoming a breastfeeding counsellor. Not very good at the latter but don't get me started on the school system, of which we are now well and truly a part of.

Accident prone. With myself and belongings. That new roof box we've only just bought? Me (I forgot it was on the roof). Those marks on my arms? Battle scars from the Aga. Scar on my left foot? Dropped a heavy knife, point down. No, I wasn't wearing shoes. Or socks. That'll teach me.

I have to say this has been the hardest post to write by far. And contains absolutely nothing about gardening!

Just Rewards

I find the longer I leave between visits to the allotment, the harder it is to visit. The weeds take on mammoth proportions, everything has been eaten down to a one inch stump, nothing is growing; all these thoughts whirl round my head.

But visit I must. The other night I didn't want to but I had (more) runners to put in, the first lot are not doing too well, and the weeds were growing well.

Now, here's the thing. It is always, always, always worth it. I weeded. Watered. Planted my runners. Weeded some more. Tied in my sweetpeas. Oohed and ahhed over my three carrots. And mulched as if my life depended on it.

I admit to needing, usually by about Wednesday, some child-free space and time. Last week I went to quite an effort to get it but this week, as I watched a cock pheasant strutting around the veggie patches, I wondered why I don't automatically make this my go-to place.

And as I wondered around my tiny domain, planning and plotting, I picked my first harvest. I found some strawberries the slugs hadn't and the birds had kindly left me some raspberries.

I'd like to say I shared them with everyone the next morning. I'd also like to say I didn't polish them off with cream left over from birthday cake making.
I'd like to but I can't........

Thank You!

I wanted to post a heartfelt THANK YOU to Patientgardener for her suggestion on my last post of getting the school gardening club children to plant a nasturtium seed each which they can then take home at the end of term.

I have to say that is a much better idea than the one I came up with, which was to give them all a tomato plant. By the time it comes to giving them out, they'll be large, hopefully complete with toms, which will make them tricky to transport to school. Then of course there's the obvious one that I had not considered - the children would not have had a hand in their growing.

The results - eleven pots - can be seen above. I've brought them home to look after and water as, um, watering isn't the children's strong point. They're keen but tend to forget. So, just to give them a helping hand I'm babysitting.

Hand Holding With "The Playground Potting Shed"

I can't quite believe how many gardening books are out there. Or rather, how many veggie growing books are groaning on the shelves of my nearest chainstore bookshop.

I've also lost count how many allotment tomes there are, and I admit I own er....two of them. No, three. No, hold on..... Anyway, I don't know what the difference is between vegetable growing and growing on an allotment, I imagine the principles are the same but maybe it's a marketing ploy.

There is even a book, I'm delighted to say, about running your own school gardening club The Playground Potting Shed by Dominic Murphy which has been my bible in recent weeks, holding my hand through my Monday night I DON'T KNOW WHAT I'M GOING TO DO WITH THEM!!!!! jitters.

And it has been immensely helpful, if not quite as "foolproof" boasted of on the cover. The most important thing I've learnt, and which went some way to helping me relax, is that there will be mistakes and IT DOESN'T MATTER.

Obvious, I know, but something that I was blinkered about in the first few weeks in a I've Just Cost The School Fifty Quid In Plug Plants And I'm Worried It Will All Be For Nothing kind of way.

The book's arranged termly which is great and this week I plan to steal his idea of making bug hotels from bamboo canes which, knowing my lot, will take all of five minutes. Not all the weeks tally, with this half-term seemingly stretching on forrrrevvvvvverrrrrrrr and some ideas are just the wrong time but it does at least kick-start my brain. A bit. What I'd obviously love is for Dominic to pop over to the garden, have a quick look-see then pop back to tell me exactly what to do for the next five weeks (FIVE WEEKS? I'm ready to break up now, so to speak).

Still, you can't have everything so what I've got is the next best thing - hand-holding via idea generating all wrapped up in a hardcover, with a lovely picture and a cute title on the front.

Veggie Wrecking Dog Anyone?

Y'know sometimes I wonder why I bother.

If it's not the hen decimating my precious herb garden with her egg laying exploits, it's the dog burying her prized pig's ear in one of my containers.


The wooden trough did contain carrots and spring onions, something I have struggled to grow on the allotment. Seems I'm struggling to grow them at home too. And to think, I was giving her a treat....

Shopping Til I'm Dropping

I popped into the garden centre the other day. I know, I know, you'd have thought I'd learnt my lesson. Obviously a glutton for punishment.

However I absolutely needed some tomato grow bags (which they didn't have) and some of those pots you use with the bags that's supposed produce a bumper crop. Or something. Anyway, they didn't have any of those either.

But did I leave empty handed? Huh, did I heck.

We'll just pop along to the plant section, I cheerfully instructed, pushing the buggy with a subdued and strapped-in toddler, trailing a chattering one behind me.

Big Mistake. I chose a three pots of runner beans, giving me at least nine plants, but thought I won't be able to use my card for that measly purchase.

Never fear, I managed to buy some other stuff. Pots to transplant my gardening club's end of term present of tomato plants into, a big pot for some veggies (haven't decided what yet), a lovely concoction of fish, blood and bone, chives and - tra la - my favourite chocolate mint!

Do I feel guilty, what with all this talk of high inflation, credit crunch, spiralling food prices not to mention the cost of the diesel to get me there? Of course I do, although being a stay-at-home mum means that I always feel guilty. I think it's in the job description.

But I've been feeling fed up (trying to unravel that one too) so a little retail therapy goes a long way. Plus, I reason, some women buy clothes or shoes to cheer themselves up. At least my purchases will benefit the whole family. I hope.