I pushed all other tasks to one side this morning and got on with garden jobs. So now the gooseberry has been re-staked, the lawn edges have been neatened, and I have moved the leeks into the old potato bed. Fingers crossed that they do better than last year. I never transplant leeks without remembering Bernard, my parents’ next-door neighbour, who first got me growing leeks by handing me a parcel of pencil-thick plants wrapped in damp newspaper and explaining exactly what I should do with them. Perhaps I should follow his regime more strictly: no one would ever have confused Bernard’s leeks with spring onions.
I also planted some salad and spinach seeds in the remainder of the potato bed. I’m not sure why I’m bothering, since today I also booked another ferry crossing to the Hook of Holland next month, and the growing plants will wilt or bolt during my absence. Fresh salad leaves or a cycling holiday in Germany . . . hmmm, tricky, but Marks & Spencer don’t sell cycling holidays.
The long grass has changed from yellow and white to mostly purple and is looking more bedraggled than splendid now, but I can’t cut anything back until the yellow rattle seeds have dropped.
Bees love the knapweed:
and I’m rather ridiculously pleased by the newly painted shed: