A couple evenings this week I have manage to shoehorn an hour or two in at the Hill before dusk (or more accurately, 'at dusk', or even, 'rather beyond dusk') which has seen a bit of plot maintenance, and a couple of jobs knocked off the list. Marvellous.
The Hill Stables up the road drop off their bags of manure every couple of weeks into a big heap which is conveniently at the side of the roadway by Geoff Crosspatch' plot next to mine; and a couple of evenings ago, I shifted half the bags - about twenty, I guess - nicely filling up one of the 'side bar' beds which are set aside for permanent plants, but in reality have just sat and done nothing but grow weeds for years.
I have plans for fruit bushes, but in the meantime, a 6" deep blanket of horseshit should supress all but the hardiest of annual weeds.
Sweeping up afterwards, I noticed the broom head was loose, so I upended it, grasped the head firmly and gave it a couple of thumps to drive the handle back into the head. Next thing, I'm standing there holding the broom head neatly cleaved into two halves. Oops.
Then tonight, I had a lovely evening lined up - planting out the runners and weeding. I'd just arrived when the heavens opened. After about 20mins, the rain lessened enough for me to hurriedly plant out the runners and dive back in the car before I got totally wet through.
At least I didn't have to water them in.
No comments:
Post a Comment