In my beginning is my end
Monday 30th December. Misty day. There are foxgloves seedlings everywhere. I grow white ones, the furry crushed strawberry 'mertonensis' (my first home was in Merton Park and I feel an affinity), and the chocolate ones. I have no idea what colour the seedlings will come up. Anything but pink I hope. I have allocated a shady part of the kitchen garden to biennials and I transplant the foxgloves in between the honesty and the sweet rocket. Some go in the huge metal trough in the courtyard, in between box and a climbing hydrangea, to be framed by the back door when seen from the house. [Photo from last Spring.] Hellebores appear which is disproportionately cheering.
Tuesday 31th December. We celebrate the turn of the year, the decade, by walking the Herepath. A 14 mile trail that heads up into the hills, around woodland and ancient landscapes, before dropping down into the vale at Thurlbear. Even the setters are slowing down by the end, but it is a cleansing way of marking both time but also a relationship with the Somerset landscape that deepens month by month, year by year.
Wednesday 1st January. A day investing in the future via the medium of compost. I have always viewed compost making as a dark art. As mysterious and incomprehensible as making an unsplit hollandaise, or training a spaniel. My heaps are often cold, wet, miserable. They rot, rather than cook, and the results have always felt disappointing. We have three bays for compost, and the first lot has surpassed anything I have ever achieved before, crumbly black gold. I am inspired, and the Christmas rush on seeds has left me with a lot of cardboard packing boxes. I layer tenderly and thoughtfully, as if my care can impart willingness and magic to the mix.
Thursday & Friday are back to work days.
Saturday 4th January. I think sometimes it is better to be totally on top of a small thing, than a bit all over a lot. I spend the day in the kitchen garden. The last of the Christmas leeks come out, and their bed top dressed with the first lot of compost. Chard plants are thinned to try and keep them going until the Spring sowings take over. Kale plants are hoed and asparagus beds tidied and weeded. The very first buds of the purple sprouting broccoli are visible. A joy.
