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before the brambles were no more

I don’t mind the odd bramble as I am particularly fond of blackberry jam.  But this week bramble jam has seemed somewhat less attractive.. It has been one of those frustratingly unproductive weeks that crop up from time to time. Last Saturday after spending a couple of hours hanging around a football pitch, one of the prerequisites of the mother with sporty sons, I headed over to the new plot for an afternoon’s clearing. The aim was to clear away a mass of dead brambles and expose the boundary of our plot (See picture). Three hours later I smugly headed home in the drizzle leaving a large bonfire pile to be lit later in the week. Reader – do not be smug!

Two days later I was the chastened owner of a massive packet of part-consumed antibiotics and a leg that would do justice to a sunburnt elephant….despite jeans, boots and gloves of industrial thickness. Ho hum – the best laid plans and all that!

So not a lot of  gardening this week, although one of the apprentices received fab half-size gardening tools for his birthday and we still managed our long-awaited trip to see Oliver!  A day in London is a treat and does wonders for those of us who tend to take the countryside for granted.

The enforced rest has given me time to potter a bit in the garden and find a site for the arrival of our hens. I swopped some raspberry canes (Autumn Bliss) which were superfluous to needs for a tray of seedlings and have at long last sowed my sweet peas. I have a huge selection this year including Daphne, Terry Wogan, Rhapsody, Miss Willmott and Chalie’s Angel. I’ve got my hands on some root trainers for the first time so we’ll see if they make any difference from the usual cardboard tubes.

Who knows? The bonfire might happen tomorrow – although gardening with the aid of a stick is not a good look for a woman of my middle-aged years!!