I can’t stand mud so why on earth (no pun intended) did I sign up for a horticultural course? Sure, it was a correspondence course, very little hands-on work, but even so, why?
When we first acquired our rural retreat I pretty much left the garden in the hands of my partner. I swanned around the garden centre choosing plants, I even planted some bulbs and potted up some containers, but weeding? Get real! I was far more comfortable tending to the simple needs of our urban roof-top terrace, furnished with its trendy bistro table set and the odd statement plant. But a year after moving to the countryside full-time I’d seen every episode of Will and Grace twice over at least, so the time was right to bite the bullet and grow our own. It was a struggle to drum up the enthusiasm at first but eighteen months on, I’ve submitted my last test answers, and the veg. patch is established – crop rotation, intercropping and companion sowing et al. Impressive, eh!
Of course, the past year just had to be the worst year for vegetables in living memory. The tiny carrots were sweet enough, but our lettuces were decimated by health-conscious slugs who obviously preferred them to the free bar provided by the beer-filled traps. The parsnips failed to show at all and the King Edwards we salvaged simply dissolved into a watery mush.
Undaunted, we’re now getting ready for next year. Being The Reluctant Gardener, the one tip I did pick up was that good preparation saves time in the long run; weeding now is far easier than leaving it until next year. And the other thing I’ve learnt is that raking is really quite relaxing – not as much as a glass of vino obviously – but I never thought you’d hear me say that last year.
