by Max Akroyd

I got really rained on yesterday for the first time in ages. I know this because my bespoke gardening gear (wellies with holes in, cagoule which gets more humid on the inside than rain falls on the outside) was still hopelessly wet this morning. This added to my Monday morning reluctance to stop drinking black coffees and get out there.  I was just lining up a nice list of other (non) jobs I could do inside when I noticed that it wasn’t actually raining. In fact it was pleasantly mild, if a bit windy and grey.

After feeding the animals, I dug a ten metre potato trench which soon worked off the vestiges of last night’s Cahors. The wind blew harder. It seemed to be saying; “I’m going to blow away the miles of plastic mulch you’ve spent hours putting down” so I got a few barrowfuls of rocks and distributed them around the field. I then noticed Emma had returned with the hay for the goats and I was greeted like a long lost friend (by the goats, not Emma) when I presented them with it. I’d only fed them an hour or so before, but they love their hay.

The rain started again so we retreated to the greenhouse and got the place tidy and looking slightly professional. Sowings into pots this month include a variety of overwintering onion (as many as I can bear – the onion seeds are like tiny lumps of coal, not very interesting to look at after the first 100) and sweet peas. Lots of lovely sweet peas.

013

By afternoon the sun had emerged and I took the dogs and our three year old, Mossy, for a walk above Huelgoat. I found myself scouring the hedgerows for potential food – and discovered about a dozen chestnut trees. Not bad!