Everyone around here is out in their gardens. I can’t put the clinky wine bottle recycling out without attracting the attention of a neighbour. Who then regales me with tales of their recent horticultural endeavours whilst looking pointedly over my shoulder at my junk yard.
In my defence we do have the worst garden layout in the village. Steep and rocky with the B&B perched safely and discreetly in its midst. Tumbledown sheds, a greenhouse with broken panes, rusty bikes, several attempts at den building – one of which is precariously dangling out of the old apple tree. As my neighbour just said, It’s A Project Isn’t It.
I have taken to nosing around other gardens in the hope of finding inspiration and rubbish piles to look fakely sympathetic at. Amy, friend and neighbour, gave me a tour around her newly erected raised beds, her freshly landscaped lawn and discreet children’s play area with the perfect tree for a treehouse. I am so happy for her. She is a garden designer by trade though. But still, I am really really happy for her. Luckily she does have a heap of broken things in her drive that have started to moss over because they have been there so long. That is why she is still my friend.So I have decided to watch Gardener’s World, listen to Gardener’s Question Time and buy a small trowel. I have a pack of radish seeds. And a plan to make the garden so splendid I can open it for the village garden day next year. In the meantime I have cleared a small space, found a battered rattan chair with seat still intact, the tail end of a bottle of pink wine and am sitting looking at the beautiful view down the valley. It’s Not A Project To Be Rushed.