Thinking outside with the box

Wake up to pouring rain. Sigh. Make a batch of muffins, do some chores inside the house (still boxing up books for the Friends of Gabriola library book sale later this month, discovering as we complete the job that all we’ve done is make room in the bookcases for all the books that have been piled up by beds, on tables, etc, so no net gain on the book space front), run some errands. But what’s this sudden brightness as I carry the shopping out? Could it be? Yes. The rain’s stopped and the sun has actually come out!

Get home asap and hurry across the road to Pat’s where I borrow a pair of secateurs, a shovel and his wheelbarrow. (Whatever would I do in my current garden equipment deprived state without Pat? Answer: Sod all without an expensive trip to Nanaimo to replace it all, so thank heavens for Pat.)

Use the secateurs to clear some sorel and other undergrowth near the entrance to the garden. Open the fence wire "gate" and stand for a moment surveying the compost box. I want to get it out of the garden, but it’s three quarters full. Nothing for it, but to tip it on its side, lift it up again and shake the contents into a big pile. Cart the empty box its new resting place. Realise the ground is fairly uneven. Hack away at more undergrowth until the box will stand up straight. Start shovelling compost into the wheelbarrow and transporting it back to the box. I’m actually breaking a sweat. Hurrah! Go into house for a lemonade. Go back to shovelling more loads of pretty good compost. (Because we have a woodstove – and because Mike still insists on having a fire at night even though it’s warm enough for British me – we are able to add ash to the food waste and it really does accelerate the process.)


Job done! And with it a sense of accomplishment. One bloody garden project actually completed.

Occurs to me that I should really buy another box. If I do, by the time the second one is full, the first one will be completely composted and ready to be added to the topsoil. Oops. I don’t actually have any topsoil. Need to ask Sally and Jamie where they get theirs. Also, nowhere yet to put any topsoil as the raised beds are still but a dream, as is levelling off the entire garden.

I have now reached the stage where I am going to require outside assistance – and equipment. Fortunately, Pat (seriously, what would I do without Pat?) has a guy coming round tomorrow morning to rototill his vegetable plot and he’s going to ask him to come over and give me a quote on doing my garden.

Annoyingly I am also about to leave for Vancouver for 10 days (during which the weather forecast is for sunshine and actually seasonal temperatures – grr), so no progress for the better part of a fortnight.

Still, as I sit down (perch gently would be a more appropriate description) on the wreck of the bench to finish my lemonade and smoke a fag, I do feel somewhat satisfied with my progress.

As God is my witness, I will never go hungry again. No, wait a second, that was Scarlett O’Hara. As God is my witness, I will grow vegetables – and fruit and herbs and flowers. This will be a proper garden.

Watch this space. Back soon.