Here we go again


I don’t know why I put myself through it.  The last two or three years in the vegetable plot have been uniformly awful, for various reasons.  Today was a busy one,  but there I was this evening, mixing up compost and pushing it through the sieve.


I’ve been pretty mean with it though; most of the seeds in the box are on the elderly side, and I am not sure they will germinate, though I am poking them in. Having poked, I don’t seem to have anywhere to put them and they are cluttering up the kitchen.

now what

In view of the recent past, for twopence I’d turf the lot.  So why do I feel hope creeping up on me?  Obstinacy?  Keeping the faith?  Energised by newt-watching?  Or just because the primroses and violets are so ridiculously pretty?


All good reasons, really.

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