Tuesday, 2 November 2010
I don't carry much veg through the winter. Mostly because I don't like to cover plants. The hassle of moving netting to get in and hoe gets on my chest. One year the weight of snow lowered the netting so much that, when it thawed, the pigeons ate all the broccoli anyway.
Last year my leeks were eaten. Now, if it can't grow uncovered, it doesn't get grown.
So the only veg still to reap are my parsnips. We've had one or two, but planted loads. Oh, and there's a few carrots left too.
The rest of the beds have been turned over and will wait until spring for the next flurry of activity. In between most will get a covering of chicken poo thanks to Lillie, Dandelion and Burdock who excel in that department.
So, it's time to peruse the seed catalogs for next year, imagining the delights of fruit and veg to come. This year's disasters nothing but a distant memory. The hard work, weeds and general untidiness, all forgotten.
Next year will be a cracker. It always promises to be. Looking at the glossy pictures in the catalogues and transposing them onto the plot, like Picasso preparing to paint a blank canvas.
Plot 66. The year 2011. Masterpiece. Just call me Pablo.