The last two precious days of holiday, and it's raining in stair rods. When I took husband and son to the station at 6.30 this morning (a university open day over the border) it had the feel of an October morning. An hour later, it's even darker, and the rain heavier.
I had hoped for a morning at the allotment after being away for a long weekend of sailing, kayaking, windsurfing and hillwalking (the rest of the family got wet - I stuck to dry land). We were lucky with the weather, which was dry but windy, except for rain on the last afternoon. That lulled me into thinking that I would have a pleasant morning today doing whatever most needed doing at the allotment. I should have known. As Flaubert said, 'Never construct'.
My on-the-hoof garden notebook is getting rather repetitive:
Too wet to lift shallots.
Too wet to paint shed.
Too wet to sow anything.
Soil too wet to stand on to pick green peas.
In spite of the rain, I should go along, if only to rescue the leeks from what I suspect will be strangulation by pumpkin by this time.
Fighting the horror
9 months ago