Planting a mystery


That’s it, time to move into the garden. I have been ousted by the plants – all my own fault, of course – but almost everywhere seems to have some sort of seed tray demonstrating various degrees of inertia. It’s the funny weather. It’s made me panic at the lack of stuff planted out yet, so I’ve steered hard in the opposite direction. Some – maybe even some in the same house – might say I’ve overcorrected.

We all went out last night to a series of gallery openings and stopped for a couple of beers on the way home. The others settled into their kebabs when we got home, while I sat on the kitchen floor, tipsily sprinkling compost and seeds into trays. I’m not too worried about that, nature is always a bit random, after all, but I think the labeling may leave room for doubt. ‘What was this? Did I say this was cauliflower?’ which earned me a well-deserved shrug from my masticating housies. God knows what we’ll end up with. Though if it’s a beanstalk with a giant on top, I’m taking full credit.


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