Addendum

Turns out the -10 forecast for overnight covers Scotland, not Brighouse. My wife says I never listen. And she says the proper quote is cast not a clout until May be out. My tail is between my legs.

Animal farm

I love cats but, looking out of my bedroom window, not the one I spied walking purposefully from next door (it doesn't live there), into our garden and then right up to the veg patch at the back, where it proceeded to do an almighty crap. At least it had the grace to cover the mess up in a very neat fashion before ambling on its way.

What are you supposed to do? Get a gun? Stone them? Or get those cat repellent products that I've given a perfunctory glance to in the shop, but which don't seem very nice. And what about my own cat? Shouldn't she have freedom to enjoy the garden in her own way? All in all, I think I will let nature take its course.

This morning I was down in the woods collecting leaf mould, which Susan said would do the soil a bit of good. There's tons of it there, oak too. My efforts to dig it in failed miserably, however, with the onset of sleet and then heavy rain. It's still showering intermittently even now, three hours later. Susan says the forecast for tonight is that it could go as low as -10.

We alter the clocks tonight. But we mustn't be fooled into thinking summer is here already. Cast not a clout til May's out.

CSI: Crime Scene Investigation

Normal service almost resumed with the hand and arm and have done a bit of digging, ready for planting. It will be a landmark when that finally happens. I've probably been making a bit too much of it, rather than simply getting on.

It occurs to me that there is no sign of the rhubarb I planted when I first started all this last year. I know you're not supposed to eat any during their first year, but it would be nice to at least have a peep. But nothing has appeared above soil level. Wonder why? Has the plant had it?

On the road again

Such a beautiful spring day today, so I was up early to test my hand/arm with a spot of gentle digging. Not too bad.

I'm digging out a new patch and resumed where I left off by giving the ground a good turning over and then dug out a bit more of the lawn towards the point where I am aiming. Very enjoyable.

Feel as if I'm getting somewhere now. Must remember not to get obsessed with ailment.

Woe is me

A beautiful spring day today, but still unable to do anything because my hand and arm remain quite sore. Getting worse, if anything. Potatoes are chitting along nicely, but will have to stay in their box for a while until I get better. Botheration.

Any excuse

My mate Steve has sent me a message entitled Trenchant Thoughts, ie bloody get digging. He doesn't actually say that, but that's the gist of his explanation about the science of soil preparation.

Sound advice, which I followed immediately by getting out in the garden with spade and shovel. Ignoring a slight problem with my left hand, I got stuck in with my version of gusto - until a bit of a hiccup followed. Striking down hard with the shovel against an awkward root, a severe jolt went up my hand and arm. The pain!

Four days later and I am still not right despite extensive easing up on using that hand (the left one, not exactly convenient for a left-hander). Yesterday and today I have had to resort to Ibuprofen.

Who remembers now the great Robertson Hare? He would have a phrase for it - Oh calamity.

Much ado about nothing

I'm reaching the stage (and may even be past it) of needing to dig and prepare the ground for potatoes. Apparently the traditional day for planting spuds is April 10, which is looming fast. But a walk in the woods just now with the dog has revealed to me just how slippery and muddy it is underfoot after the past few days of snow and rain.

I'm reading a terrific book called Close to the Veg, by Michael Rand, sent to me by my mate Steve, which has turned out quite unexpectedly to be good stuff. The author, who knew nothing about such things before taking on his London allotment, is full of good advice and one of his tips is that it is fruitless to dig a soaking-wet clay soil as you won't do the ground any good by squelching all over it. I've no idea if my soil is clay or not (how are you supposed to tell?) but it seems to me to be sensible to respect his wisdom and lay off until the patch dries off a bit.

This is rapidly turning into a journal in which nothing much happens.