It is only the farmer who faithfully plants seeds in the Spring, who reaps a harvest in the Autumn.B. C. Forbes
This is an experiment. I’m a writer. I’ll leave you to judge whether I’m any good, but what I mean to say is I’ve been compelled to fill notepads with writing, about anything and everything, pretty much since I first picked up a pencil. I’m also a gardener. Until recently, a very frustrated gardener, as I didn’t have any land to call my own. I grew up in a garden, with a trowel in my hand and we grew much of what we ate. It’s only recently that I finally got the chance to start a little garden of my very own and it’s been bliss to get back outside and get my hands in the soil again.
I’m also a mother. My 18 month old toddler has changed my world and, like the most beautiful and terrifying blizzard imaginable, the landscape of my life has been transformed, leaving everything looking differently from before. I’m left with a renewed awareness of the things that really matter to me but, ironically, with far less time to devote to ‘me’ then I ever had before.
So a writer, a stifled gardener, a struggling working mother (is there any other kind?). Sound familiar? If so then – read on.
In this blog, I plan to write about gardening and my efforts to tame my little patch of urban earth. I want to grow useful things; things you can eat, things to decorate the home, maybe even some things you can drink as well. I really believe a garden should be productive, as well as a haven from the outside world. So there will be some food and flowers along the way.
Any gardener will tell you that the seasons bring new tasks and surprises, to be tackled (enthusiastically or not) or delighted at in their turn. So like a set of bamboo canes, supporting a winding mass of runner beans, it is the seasons which I’ve decided to use as a the frame for these pages. And so it begins…