Way back in 2009 when I ordered 24 sheets of colorbond, rolled to my specified diameter, it was my intention to organise the consequent 12 raised vegie beds to define an inner space. I suspected that it wouldn’t provide quite the sense of enclosure that the location required, but was prepared to give it a go first, and respond accordingly.
It’s the weirdest thing. You grow vegetables in order to eat them, right? How is it, then, that when the time comes to pick, the knife can hover over them, poised for the kill, but waver in vacillation?
I’ve received two seed catalogues in the mail in the last couple of weeks. The Diggers Seed Annual and the Lambley Nursery Seed Manual. They’re almost identical in size and glossiness etc, but couldn’t be more different in their underlying philosophy, particularly in regard to their vegetable seeds.
Between two writing deadlines I snatched half an hour to progress a foot or two in removing the residue of an old potato crop from a garden bed. This is the third time the bed has been dug over, trying to remove every last potato. This year some of them are as small as one of those Jelly Belly beans – smaller – but every one of them will grow.
One day I’ll achieve carrot germination like this..
Honestly, how can it take so long to learn such simple lessons? I’m more than happy with the idea that gardening can keep you on a steep learning curve for a lifetime, but I really thought that what I’d be learning at this point could be made to sound more worthy of the length of the journey so far – that I could preach from lofty heights of hard-won wisdom.
No, of course it’s not. What sort of crazy author-generated question is that?
But I’ve often wondered about it, as in many of the cooler climates around Australia, vegetables don’t really grow over the winter