11-12 August 2007 - Half-way up the North Face

We return Saturday morning, to find that no one has finished the fence. The North Face scowls at us, an uneven trench too shallow by far.

Despite this, we begin to fence the first half of the North Face, with some success. You have to sink the mesh below ground and curve it outwards. Apparently someone has conducted psychological experiments with rabbits, and they get very down when faced with the outer curve, then give up and go home. (I have some sympathy.)

Much grunting and groaning in the sun - and spade (shovel) broken through sheer manly exertion - then welcome respite in conversation with our (corner) neighbours, who are also dog-sitting, a 'Westie' named Pippa. Fine company. (A trip to the recycling centre, alas, was unsuccessful in replacing the broken implement.)

Fence is wobbly - ie the should-be-crisp-and-taut upper line is a bit slack and meandering - but we are coming to accept our fallibility (sp?) in all things. Better up than not.

Our pumpkin. It sprawls over at least four sq metres, its hungry leaves soaking up the sun and feeding not only the main fruit (now the size of a large sheep's head - oh, memories of Wood Green butchers) but several dauphin growths.

A fatality among the potatoes leads us to think that blight has struck. Mr Getley and others have suffered the same fate. The one plant is spindly, with no leaves. The other plants seem unaffected, but these things spread. We are advised to trim the top, leave for two weeks, and harvest what there is in terms of taters.

Live fast, die young, leave a tasty tuber.

Blight is common. We had so hoped not to be common.

Elsewhere, peas are thriving (in a restrained, English, way) and have been provided with a growing framework of twiggy sticks upon which to spread their wings. Kim wishes she'd planted more. We are increasingly aware not only of our own ignorance and inadequacies, but, more importantly, of how this awareness can inform future decisions.

Celery, radish and leek seedlings are proceeding in an orderly and enthusiastic (again, in moderation) manner toward their eventual harvets and consumption. Carrots sparse, due to stony soil.

With our neighbours, we contemplate getting a big machine to strip the top layer (and its abundant grass/weeds) to obliterate the palimpset of past efforts and failures (others, not yet, our own). Fresh start appeals; struggle against the odds seems more Quixotic.

Sunday, and various family arrive for lunch. Louis assists with some watering, and enjoys shed door and how it swings. All complimentary about what we've done (free lunch), although Luc somewhat indifferent (brought his own).

Good things: high number of nice dogs met (became acquainted with dog of white van at the corner, who likes a scratch behind the ears).

Bad things: Kim got sunburn (in a restrained way) and later, in our home garden, poisoned herself by accidental contact with weed-killer.

For contemplation: the St Stephens Horticultural Society Annual Show is looming (8 September). We are contemplating what to enter. There's a novice category, fortunately. Our celery is strong, our pumpkin swelling. Yet the most growth has been occuring on our blog. Perhaps we'll campaign for a new multimedia category.