The proof is in the pudding. And I think the pudding has fallen flat. Some of my experiments did not work out so well this year. But that’s ok. I’m not admitting defeat yet. A little tweak here or there might yet prove to be the miracle worker I need for next year’s attempt. The straw bale tomatoes seem to just be frozen in time. They don’t look the healthiest but yet, some are producing fruit. I splashed out and bought some tomato feed for them and am hoping that regular applications will resurrect them yet. I live in hope. The spuds I think suffered in the heat and I underestimated how much watering they would need. That’s ok. Live and learn.
My raised beds have taken off all of a sudden. The chard and the spinach are loving it. The courgettes are building up a head of steam and the peas seem to be recovering from the initial shock of being planted straight in to compost. The slugs unfortunately are also loving it but I have recently acquired a box of out of date beer and I am going to invite them to a party.
And my flower beds are bursting at the seams. I love them. It feels great to be able to pick a few flowers and bring them with me as I go visiting. I reckon the welcome is warmer when you arrive with home grown flowers, a few hen eggs or maybe a homemade cake. But definitely flowers. Although, I have learned the hard way to check inside the flowers for any creepy crawlies.
So this month, I am rolling with the punches.
Sow more of what works. There’s still time for beetroot and I never did get any carrots down so I might try some autumn carrots soon. And my winter salads.
I’ll keep watering the aubergines and cucumbers and peppers. And I watch the sweet potatoes with interest although I am not holding out hope there.
The Little Paddler has finally acquired a taste for raspberries and strawberries. Although I have to take the “paper” (leaves) off first. And we have to feed them to dolly as well. We’ll keep picking. I doubt I’ll get to save enough for jam though. I can barely get in at the raspberry plants for all the weeds. I keep fighting the urge to drop the Little Paddler off with granny and then take out Mr. Fairweather’s strimmer and mow everything down! I make no promises on this score.
When the flowers die back on the comfrey, I’ll give it a good haircut and land the trimmings in on top of the compost.
The ducks are for the chop this month. But this time we have found someone to do the full dozen of them in one go. It’s just too hard with a toddler and I am picking my battles. We did however acquire another eight Khaki Campbells. They are for eggs but as yet are unsexed so some may yet end up accompanying the Aylesburys. I am really looking forward to having a freezer full of meat.
And the tunnel.
And doing what I am told by a toddler.
“Sit on the ground mammy.”
“Pick the daisies.”
“Want to pet a duckie.”