Air temperature rose and fell. People are reading this like runes. What joy, what doom awaits? I am not speculating, only trying to work out when best to catch up on late planting.
The polytunnel is a steamy breathing earthy space. Seed trays are incubating.
Peek repeatedly under repurposed plastic and crockery hoping for that poke of green.
There’s one self seeded tomato - how smug it stands in the scatter of egg shells, though the nasturtiums tumble around a hundred times bigger.
Lime shoots pee-oww from every crack of bark; we made soda from the first batch, it has a fresh-bitter bite.
Dandelions are strong and fast - from their flowers I made a mock-honey. No wonder the bees love these florets!
Today in the dampness I felt that the earth was holding warmth, and pressed boot soles into soft clay-mud around the empty horse field - while Dog snuck off to feast on things unknown, hiding in the rising crops, sheepish in recall, wolfish in lip-licking.
Peas, I remind myself. I’m going to try some in a pot.
I daresay there’ll be jokes.
Comments
Many happy returns of Maytimes to you and yours :-)