We’re still under the hosepipe ban, still watering every night to keep the vegetable plants alive. But the pressure is off, more or less, because it has rained. Three weeks after the rest of the country had its downpours, we had a full day of rain that brought the pond level up by an inch and then ten dry days before another couple of drizzly and rainy days. It’s been a relief. The veg plot doesn’t need to be watered. The fish are swimming around in the pond rather than hiding under the lily pads, looking like their old lazy selves. And the grass is back to its old green self.
The change has been startling. Back in May, everywhere in the garden was a vivid green, the leaves were out and we were itching to clip back hedges and shrubs. Then the heat descended and every grassy area faded to the colour of pale straw. The weeds stayed green, but were easily pulled from the dusty soil. Moles came for a holiday in our veg plot, drawn by the promise of worms still alive, and half our veg plants had their roots dangling in empty mole tunnels. Now the grass is green again, and the leek row is full of chickweed.
Last year, almost nothing grew. 2022, we had no veg except for more carrots than any reasonable person could eat in twelve months. This year? Enough peas for one meal. No edible runner bean pods, and a few dried broad beans. No cucumbers, potatoes like marbles and a dozen carrots and parsnips. But the tomatoes have made up for it all. As soon as it was cool enough to run the oven, we roasted the tomatoes up in batches and froze them for future lasagnes and curries. The trombocini, peppers and chillies are volunteering to join them, and there’s even one solitary melon for dessert, sulking in the middle of a huge vine and a lot of leaves.
It’s been a relief to get into the polytunnel and enjoy the jungle it’s become. The straight-necked squash is a joy, as good as courgettes when young and a bright yellow colour with bumps in its skin like a measles rash as it grows larger. The trombocini vines need to be cut back hard every few days or they’ll take over. We grow most of the food we need for the vegetarian parts of the meals we eat and for the salads we usually enjoy. But as Eric Morecambe might have said; “Listen sunshine. We’re growing all the food we need… just not all in the same year.”
Blanched trombocini in tomato sauce, anyone?
The other good news is that my old routine is returning, and I am back to writing again. Just like crime, I’ve discovered that writing doesn’t pay the bills (actually, crime probably does pay the bills; better than a professional job and a lot better than writing). I suppose the difference is that I’ve always written for fun and to get knotty stuff out of my head and onto paper and to amuse people. Never thought it would pay, so I’m still writing and still having fun.
Currently in the works are three short stories, one submitted to Gladfest, one to Writers Online and the third to the Scottish Association of Writers’ summer competition. If I got my backside into any gear other than reverse, I could submit a fourth to a local competition, but I suspect I’m just putting off the mountain of research involved in ‘Unstable and Dangerous’. So far I have fifteen chapters; one has enough material for a short novel, the others are more like one-line jokes. Ah, well. An exercise in character building.
