Wednesday, 13 July 2011


Despite all the wet weather we have had, I managed to find a flower of almost every colour of the rainbow.

The solitary tomato. I bring to tomato growing what Buckingham Palace brings to small garden sheds.
Every year I try and every year it is the same - one pathetically small tomato.
Oh they get fed, pampered, brushed with fake rabbit tails, everything.
The Farmer spied the tomato and said that he knew the secret. He even tapped his nose.
"Sheepie purlies in a sock"

I may covertly venture out to the field with a shovel, so desperate am I to grow a second tomato but it will be one of The Farmer's socks. I can never find mine.

Solitary, sulky courgette. It may get the sheep poo treatment with the other sock.

The fawn coloured squish round the greens are where our son 'helpfully' fed them with layers pellets for the hens.

The sun is half thinking about coming out today and I have fanciful notions of wafting with a trug whilst wearing a Panama hat. Alas, I own neither so will just have to waft.

A dung filled shed is staring me squarely in the eye as I write but I will ignore. Today's quest is for an infinitely finer class of poo.


  1. Ha ha. I too have fantasies (and have had for years) of wafting about my flower filled garden. With a trug. Like you I settle for simply wafting.

    Why does the sheep muck have to be in a sock? I would put it in a sock to keep the dog from eating it but knowing her she would probably have a go at the sock as well.

  2. Yes, the Little Sock of Horrors.

    He said to fill the sock with sheep poo then drop it in a water butt.

    Hope he is not having a laff as I did it.

  3. Oh, that makes sense. I swill out the hen muck bucket and dump the rinsings on whatever looks most pathetic. Plants that is.