I was rather late planting the runner beans this year. I won’t use slug pellets laced with chemicals so I have to resort to faffing about, collecting and crushing eggshells. I have also put some rock salt around. Hopefully this will deter the slug population. They haven’t found the strawberries yet. It is only me that has been eating them.
Behind my garden there was a majestic tall tree. I’m not good with tree names but it was evergreen and rather a lovely shape. Not any more. Some young men came with a chain saw and gave it a chop. I don’t think they were tree surgeons. There was no safety gear. Just a ladder some rope and a chainsaw. With a lot of rather fruity language and arguing this is the result. It looks awful. It was such a beautiful tree.
The wood pigeons have now a perch to congregate and watch me hang out the washing. They often do a fly past over the washing line.
Growing runner beans is tinged with sadness now. Steve was not a green veg fan but he did love freshly picked runner beans cooked with a knob of butter and sprinkling of black pepper. This always makes me smile. While I was on holiday I sent a text to remind him if he didn’t water the garden there would be no beans. He sent this back. No words, just photographic proof that he was doing his duty. I miss him.
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