Wednesday, 29 June 2011

Fishbox garden

It came as a welcome diversion from 'heated debates' with certain men of arrogant and sexist nature. (Not The Farmer, I might add.)

I went to buy some fish for the family and the fish merchant offered me some of the boxes which the fish arrive in from Wester Ross.
They brought with them the faint whiff of fish and the strong scent of home.

Rosie had planted lots of pots of seeds in May which were now screaming to get out of their overcrowded pots and in to the ground. The fish boxes were ideal for all the salad plants, some herbs and more spring onions than were strictly necessary.

Pie Dog helped.
That was actually a complete lie. PieDog gazed adoringly and we all had to pat him with the bits of us which were not laden with plants. He had compost smudges over his ears and that bit of dog which would be where our cheeks are.

The Farmer sits on a chair just beside the new garden. He is watching all the activity through a fog of medication and we all fuss over him as if he were an elderly dowager in a bath chair.
"You need a crochet knees cover in neon acrylic to go with your Purple Haze"

"I'll give you crochet cover", he replies, Scottishly.

He is doing pretty well bar for the cocktail of tablets which leave him tired and a bit spaced out.

"Look Dad, tons of salad to keep you healthy". Rosie has been learning all about healthy eating at school and is keen for us all to try something good. She has sown dill and fennel ("good for digestion") and some chervil which tastes of cucumber.

Some of the lettuce plants look like they have been nibbled by four year olds but perhaps it is a trick of the light....

... or the partridge who has moved in to the garden and has been called 'Pie Trish' by the children.

It is lovely to have the sun back - what a difference it makes to feel warm and hopefully the stuck plants inside will finally begin to grow.

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