The sun was shining today in Cheltenham, and a very pleasant few hours were spent pottering in the garden while the robin sang about how the garden was all his and his alone, but he would be prepared to share it with a suitable lady robin. It’s lovely to get an early taste of Spring weather, and getting up close and personal with the plants you notice how buds are already swelling, and daffodils you’d forgotten about are once again preparing their show.
While I pottered, I was trying to weigh up two conflicting impulses. On the one hand, I love growing my own vegetables: I love knowing they are totally fresh, free from chemicals, and have travelled no further than from the bottom of the garden. Home grown produce often tastes a lot better, and I get a buzz from seeing it all happen, from the emergence of the tiny seedling to pulling the perfect carrot from the ground, or harvesting those luscious warm fragrant tomatoes.
On the other hand, it is very time consuming, and often unforgiving. I have a poor sandy soil which is a joy to cultivate but which dries out in a flash, and unless bolstered by feed and compost, results can be disappointing. Living near a wood, pigeons feast on any brassica which isn’t netted, as well as all the fruit. Leek moth has been so bad that I gave up on growing leeks last year. Even so, every Spring the rising tide of life sweeps me up and I’m digging out the propagator, sowing tender plants for the greenhouse, chitting potatoes on the windowsill, sorting through the seed packets ready for the next round.
But come the Summer and it can all get a bit much. The endless round of watering, weeding, disappointments when seedlings disappear overnight, or a virus attacks the squash plants which looked so promising – not to mention the sinking heart when picking yet another load of runner beans, and the time-consuming processing of muddy produce... My partner doesn’t share my love (compulsion?) for gardening, and when the days are long and the weather is good, I’m pulled in two different directions. One part of me wants to join him on long walks, lazy afternoons sitting round with friends, running, kayaking, weekends away. The other part of me feels as though this is the equivalent of leaving helpless babies to starve! I’ve tried to simplify the growing by installing automatic watering for the greehouse, planting fewer runner beans(!), buying some plants rather than growing from seed, but ultimately having a vegetable garden is a labour of love, it demands time and commitment.
So now I’m seriously wondering whether to cut right back and get an organic veg box instead. It might be fantastically liberating – all that time for other things! A whole load of responsibility gone in a flash! But even as I think it, I know that growing things is such a big part of who I am, I’m not going to give it up... or am I?
Comments