On Digging & Second Thoughts

The good thing about being your own boss is that if a deadline's missed, you shan't be fired. September looms on the horizon and there is still Border 1 to be emptied and the fences to be done.

So, as boss, I'm extending the deadline till end of September, by which point I hope to have, as labourer, raised some beds and filled trenches dug with wonderful compost-rich soil.

This digging malarkey is time consuming. Emptying Border 2 has interfered with two of my favourite pastimes: the drinking of wine and reading of books. But, with spade in hand, and possibly more clarity of mind, I have decided to dedicate my garden in its entirety to the growing of vegetables. With the exception of a few climbing roses here and there, the garden shall run amok with the likes of runner beans, artichokes and radishes. And many herbs. Next year.

Borders 1, 2 & 3 shall feature superior raised beds from Harrod Horticultural (if you order online, you can enjoy 10% off the display price for now). Raised beds because Willow has acquired a taste for greens and soil, so with any luck the small wooden walls shall keep him out of the veg, whilst preventing the veg from spilling onto brick paths. 

The lean-to-greenhouse I had imagined at the back of the garden has also grown much larger. There shall be space in it, I hope, for potting up, a table & 2 chairs; perhaps those espied at the recently re-opened West Six. A stone's throw from the Chiswick High Road, w6 is a garden centre I highly recommend, as not only is it inspiringly beautiful, but is managed by a dear dear friend. The district line trains rumble overhead as you peruse their fare, but more of that later.

Having not given the front garden much consideration, this neglected area, which is currently occupied by 3 trees (mimosa, conifer and willow) shall be dedicated to a composting section and planters of root vegetables that shan't suffer much from being nearer the main road. I shan't be getting a worm cafe after all - far too small - but the twin-composters here. I might keep the mimosa, but conifer and willow shan't be missed, one being half dead and t'other having outgrown it's spot planted 4 years previous in ignorance. The willow shall be repurposed into supports for the beans. And if my handiwork should look rubbish, I shall chuck them on the fire.

In a bid to define 'spaces', the patio directly before our lounge shall be dedicated to outdoor dining. Not to be at the mercy of the weather, I would very much like a Victorian awning here, and it just so happens that these folk make them. They are described as 'a very British awning' and are beautifully made. Admire them along New Bond Street, at Moxon Street's La Fromagerie or Odette's in Primrose Hill. My awning shall either be in black or charcoal grey, so currently I am contending with swatches & which bank to rob.

On the theme of money being no object, a water butt would also be prudent. Haven't done the maths to prove to husband that it shall pay for itself, but the most handsome on the market comes from here. There is a shortage of reasonably-priced & good-looking water storage solutions... So I suppose I should be grateful that this one exists at all. And that it isn't round! I haven't much patience for round things. Particularly in my fridge too - a small moan here permit - why on earth if our fridges are square are the receptacles designed for them mostly round? And the world can do without more plastic tupperware, so don't you dare recommend that. Argh!

Back to the butt. If, as I suspect, it is unaffordable, I shall be making my own. And when I do, you can read about it here.

Garden seating had also been something of a dilemma. Until I went to The Stables market in Camden that is, and saw these wonderful cast iron numbers partout. They are ideal for the garden, shan't mind the rain, can be used to rest pots on when wanted out of the way, and quite comfy. Honest.

I have emailed the powers that be, but have yet to hear from them. On a final note, a shout-out to Ronnie, whom Willow befriended at the market. Ronnie is 4 months old and a little darling.