This was our conversation this morning:
OH: Someone said my writing is like 24th-century Dickens
Me: 24th-century Dickens? I can’t begin to imagine what that’s like
OH: It’s like my writing.
Me: Right. Well that’s me told…
It’s terribly bracing out there, like Skegness in July with a brisk breeze, a wind that rolls up its sleeves and says ‘right, let’s get that washing dried quick’, an invigorating environment that stirs you up and rouses the blood, just so long as you don’t spend too long out in it. I’m happy to see that my broad beans are poking like tiny green hands through the soil and the spinach is tenderly sprouting. Potatoes and butter beans are already showing so as soon as everything’s up I can start weeding in earnest.
My comfrey seeds are in and I’m only waiting for it to be a little less bracing before I plant out all my seedlings. The basil will have to wait a bit though as it needs to be really warm for it to thrive. Sadly I don’t think it’ll ever be warm enough for this to happen, but it looks good.
Apparently I got the date wrong yesterday and it’s May 4th today. Who knew? (Well, everyone else I expect…)
May Al Stewart be with you.
Kirk out
Sarada Gray 