Tuesday, June 08, 2010
Yesterday one of them, M., came over and said hi. "It's growing, it's growing" he exclaimed, waving his hands at the potatoes, onions etc, which I admit do look lush and potent at the moment. "Sure it is," I replied, hoping he would not notice all the bindweed coming out of the paths. "OH at first we were a bit worried about you (they were? why?) but I'm not worried anymore".
I can imagine conspiring whispers about this crazy woman covering the plot in cardboard and straw and growing weird shit like parsnips and gooseberries. But I believe in the 3rd year theory, with the 3rd year being a turning point, with less weeds, more experience and a sudden increase in successful harvests.
I love these old blokes, who are so certain they have it all down pat but in the end they concede that someone doing it differently can still produce a good spud. Shame that I rarely have tome to go and have a glass of cheap rosé with them.
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