Getting out of the car the other day, Susan said to me: “You’re garden’s looking a wreck, Andy.”
She’s not wrong.
And then, examining the rhubarb, she added: “I don’t know if it’s going to come to anything next year.”
To which I could only ask: “Why’s that?”
Her reply? “You don’t seem to have the magic growing fingers.”
She’s not wrong.
I looked around the garden centre this afternoon for these magic growing fingers, but they didn’t seem to have any. Some people are blessed with a natural ability to grow things, I know, but it seems to me that the only way I can develop any sort of powers in this direction will be to work harder, prepare more and think harder about the planting.
Lesson learned, I hope.
As I come out of hibernation after the back problem, I see there is a lot of tidying up to do. The Cherokee Trail of Tears will have to come out, the patches where I have tried and failed to grow spinach beet and carrots will have to be dug over.
We live and learn. On the plus side, Susan says my chutney has worked out well.
Result.
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