Dead birds. Two, so far, though I like to hope that there will only ever be two. One on the patio - a fledgling blue tit, I think - and the other amongst the newly flowering Maris Piper in the veg plot. Where are they coming from? A great height judging by the flatness. But no other damage. Blown from a nest? Or a disastrous debut flight?
Either way it isn't very nice. I collected the little bodies - beaks first - and put them in the bag along with the weeds from the veg plot.
Where did all the weeds come from?
And Nettles. I specifically said that I wanted the nettle bush left where it was so that I could cook up the nettles in times of hardship. I got a strange look from my Grundy but I ignored him. His seventy years of gardening versus my seven weeks, what does he know?
Grundy knows everything. The nettles came from nowhere to dominate the herb garden. In fact, the herb garden became a boxing ring, post storm, with the nettles threatening in one corner and the mint plant gearing up for a fight in the other. The Lavender was a good audience as that too is flowering and cheered on the mint and nettles. The groundlings however, in the form of Tomato plants, Rosemary and Sage were looking distinctly like the losers of this fight.
Something had to be done.
On Sunday, true to form, it was a sun-ny day. So Mr Me and I tackled the garden. Hours later and with sore abs I looked out onto the now sparse looking herb garden with a sense that we'd won. Although, judging by the petrified leaves on the now potted Mint plant and the retreating back of the sad and death nettle looking Nettle bush I wonder whether, in fact, we'd committed murder.
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| Piles of petrified Mint. And I always garden in witch socks. |
