Following Joanna’s wonderful blog on pheasants the other week, another food-related post. About gardening. Sort of.Well, more a ramble, really, but there is some (vaguely) writerly stuff at the end. Promise.
Gardening? I am “NotAGardener”. There, I have said it.
“NotAGardeners” will know how inadequate they feel when they see a well tended veg patch, straight lines of leeks standing to attention, beans and peas running riot over a network of canes. Lettuces, cabbages, potatoes – to say nothing of herbaceous borders bursting with colour, flowers waiting to be picked to adorn the dining table. It would be (naturally) groaning under the weight of food I have grown, harvested and prepared with my own fair hands.
To begin with, I thought writing in lockdown was going to be a doddle. My normal working life was sitting alone for hours alone staring at a computer screen. Then there were those bursts of high energy word-cookery. What would change?
Actually, I was even crazier than that. Staying home and not seeing people, I thought, would give me oodles of time to complete the umpty-um projects on my 2020 schedule. Maybe this was the year I completed three books, cleared out the study, got to grips with social media and started exercising regularly.
Um – no.
The Big Freeze
What actually happened was that I froze. Pretty much immediately. And completely. Could hardly do a thing.
It was a nasty shock. I was ashamed and a bit scared. At the time, I didn’t tell anyone.
The house got more and more of a tip. I started things I didn’t finish. But for a while I was self-isolating. So nobody knew.
That stage didn’t last. But struggling out of it took me time. And, from things I have been hearing, I’m not alone. Writing in lockdown can be harder than you’d think. Continue reading →
None of those here, when I moved into my new home last summer. The garden was just a big neglected mess.
The first job was to clear out the weeds and paint the wall. When I say “I”, I confess I called upon the lovely Robert, who got to work with a some serious tools and, once he’d cleared the bed, a paintbrush.
Here, with a little November sunshine to light it up, is the result.
All he left were a few plants hardy enough to survive the neglect. (I’m trying not to think about the huge store of weed seeds lying in wait for my hoe!)
There is a large deep pink hydrangea, a couple of buddleias to attract the butterflies and a well grown Clematis montana. It was in full bloom when I viewed the property last year and is just about to give me joy.