Holes in socks…
Or potatoes as we used to call them. Time is progressing and the spuds are chitting so despite everything being later here, and the risk of frost is still high, I’ve gone for gold.





… what’s occurin’ …
Or potatoes as we used to call them. Time is progressing and the spuds are chitting so despite everything being later here, and the risk of frost is still high, I’ve gone for gold.




It takes two to shift this. “This” is a cider mill apple squashing/squishing/juice squeezing wheel. Those who have assiduously explored the site […]
Nothing beats an early morning stroll around the garden.
In the wild flower meadow nature has collapsed the daffodils overnight. Slowly, imperceptibly, the daffs are waking as the sun warms them.
A Sunday look at the (new) polytunnel.