by Max Akroyd

More improbably beautiful weather…

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I’m itching to dig more trenches but a strange pain in the middle of my back is saying firmly ‘no’ – so I forked over and filled up some of the existing ones ready for a mass sowing of broad beans and peas. They’re getting planted on top of a mix of pig manure, grass cuttings and wood ash. That should keep them warm if nothing else. Still in the Upper Beds, I put down the final bit of plastic mulch: a quick strim of the re-emerging docks and that part of the garden can go to sleep until spring.

Emma made a gate this morning which we then fitted onto the (big) pig house whilst being jostled and nipped by the adolescent residents. Later, lots more mowing. It’s relatively easy to keep things in order when nature is slumbering.

I couldn’t postpone it any longer – the need to make a Plan for the forthcoming garden year. I’d prefer to carry this stuff around (in a fog) in my head, but Emma complains that this is harder to read than A4 paper. So I ended up trooping around the field with a pen, paper and a frown looking like a shabby estate agent. The results will be pinned to the kitchen wall, looking like a gallery of toddler art.