This (eaten by snails and frazzled in the sun)
and this (pigeons and sparrows feasting on the rainbow chard)
and this (salad seedlings attacked by flea beetles)
It makes you wonder sometimes if growing your own vegetables is worth all the trouble.
Well, even after the disasters, I still think it’s worth it. Today was the first time I have spent any length of time in the garden for a while. The weather was a little cooler, and dare I say it, feeling almost autumny. I spent a few blissful hours putting the veg garden to rights. Weeding the raised beds, cutting back the spent raspberry canes, planting out cabbages, purple sprouting broc and kale, harvesting beetroot, courgettes, runner beans and the last of the potatoes, pulling shallots and laying them on trays to dry – a perfect way to spend a morning in my opinion. A feeling of something achieved and something to show for all the blood, sweat and tears.
Gardening is not an exact science – plants don’t always grow as you would wish, there are lots of failures and some successes and all sorts of bugs and beasties are out to thwart your efforts – but at the end of the day it gives so much satisfaction that I forget about the bad bits – and in the depths of winter when I take a jar of home-made ratatouille from the cupboard and open it – I smell summer – ripe tomatoes, chunks of courgettes and onions all grown by my own fair hand – and I think to myself – now this is what it’s all about – it doesn’t get better than this. Am I right or am I right!
‘Til next time …