My garden hates me
Giles Turnbull
proper seeing-to this year, force it to my whim and make it generally
tidier.
I'd barely started my tidy campaign before the garden ganged up with
the pollen and pinned me down with hayfever for a few weeks. Every
morning I awoke with a throat like carpet underlay and unable to
breathe through my nose without Olbas Oil to clear it first. The first
few hours of the day were dominated by sneezing, spluttering and
coughing. Gardening was out of the question.
Then suddenly, three days ago the hayfever stopped. I think the pollen
either ran out of steam, or decided to change sides. Now I can breathe
again unaided, and wake up with a clear head. Marvellous. The
hayfever's gone, then, but so has my enthusiasm to sort the garden
out. Now I look out the window at the overgrown mess and sigh; how on
earth can I begin to tackle it? When I try, I make so little progress
that it feels futile.
This year I wanted to grow spuds again, so filled one of our raised
beds with them. One corner of my crop has been destroyed by slugs or
bugs or something - the plants have been stripped of foliage and their
pathetic remains are bent and hang limply over their surviving
neighbours. Growing your own food is a war against nature. She wants
to put an end to your efforts with her slugs and her bindweed, she
hates you trying to control her environment. So you have to fight
back, to play dirty, and above all work incredibly hard day after day
to put in even a fraction of the effort that's needed to give nature
second thoughts.
It can be done. Other people do it. I'm determined. If only I could
stop sneezing for a whole 12 months in a row, I might have a chance.