Lunchtime. I’ve actually come inside. And why? Because it’s pissing down with rain. Excuse my French.
I’ve picked a kilo or two of strawberries, picked peas and broad beans, avoided weeding, shook my fist at a mole rat which has taken down a second parsnip plant. And then looked up at the inky black sky and bid a hasty indoor retreat.
Unbelievable rainfall. Unbelievable weather. Remember last year I was moaning about the drought? Yes, well.
I’ve been busy with garden distractions in the form of lovely house guests.
And when you need to strip a burgeoning cherry tree with fruit, all you need to do is point an Australian in the right direction.
We staggered back with kilos of the stuff. Now it wasn’t all glorious – I had to turn most of it into cordial as the fruit is so sodden from the unseasonable wet. But we feasted.
But I won’t go on about wet weather. I just wanted to show you some action shots of my two permaculture beds. They aren’t actually ready for cropping this year. But I am learning they are marvellous places to shove all the things that are left over from the main vegetable gardens.
Top potager: 54 leeks and five tomato plants.
Bottom potager in the shade of the plum trees: salad, two butternut squashes and dozens and dozens of baby swiss chard plants. I have a glut.
And speaking of gluts. Back out I go. I can see from this shot I’ve missed picking the strawberries in the bed opposite this shot.
Have a soothing picture of flowers while I head out.
I may be some time.