Tingle hells

Now don’t think I did all this weeding just because I was looking for my lost gardening glove. But its true. Somewhere on this vast farm lurks the right hand of a perfect pair of gardening gloves. and I’m baffled as to where it can be.

By 10am it was hot, so we heaved ourselves off to the market at Vernoux. Sat in the shade of the cafe, met friends, and couldn’t resist a spot of shopping: bought heaps of leeks. 68 in total. For a grand investment of three euros. They went into the gaps of the cabbage bed. Never thought I had that much space.

And from there it was but a short step across the vegetable garden to the mess that is the blackberry bed. In just a few short hours (hot, sweaty, all the rest) There is fruit in there somewhere. I managed to assiduously avoid the nettles lurking about the plants all afternoon. And naturally at the end of the day stood back to admire the handiwork and succeeding in leaning on the last nettle plant which nestled all the way up my leg. It is tingling beautifully as I type.

Later that evening sat on the terrace and watched Daisy the deer eat the mulberries that had fallen from the tree just below the house. Cheeky deer; broad daylight too.