So we failed to do any more last Sunday, as we woke up aching, very sunburnt, and in my case, hungover. Bit nervous heading down there this morning – would the weeds have regrouped? The ants staged a coup and taken the plot for their own? The compost heap have broken free from its plastic bags and liberally distributed itself around the place? The owner of the plot next to ours have returned and discovered we’d dumped our weeds on it? Thankfully all was well, and the ants seem to have taken exception to our digging around and buggered off. Hurrah.
Some of the weeds had grown back, so I set to digging them up again while Kevin started on the back area, with the nightmare high grass, fruit trees, various kitchen appliances and bags of rubbish/body parts. Once the weeds had been dug and chucked on the compost heap, I went round to see how Kevin was getting on. He had removed his shirt (hottest day of the year, today) and was sat under the plum tree, looking at the football scores on his phone. Good effort. Prompted by the laziness, I began inspecting the plum tree for brown rot (or whatever its called). Turned out there were a few sufferers to remove, as well as some rotting and weak looking ones – the tree is hugely overloaded and can’t ever have been pruned, so I trimmed back as much as I dared so the remaining plums stood a chance. Unfortunately, while doing so, I noticed another plant winding itself round the tree, with pretty white flowers. We have:
The Dreaded Bindweed
Even as non-gardeners we knew this was Bad News. Pulled a lot of down off the tree, but there is a lot more to go. Having consulted the internet we’ve decided against using weedkiller on the plot we want to grow in, but we were planning on using it in the back area already, so fingers crossed that’ll do the trick.
I have to confess to feeling a little despondent today. I decided to water the compost pile (read it somewhere) so trekked back to the car to get the watering can. I passed what felt like an endless line of beautifully tended plots, where the owners just turned up, did a little weeding and then headed off home with bags full of fresh fruit and veg. One elderly gentleman was sat simply admiring his plot, enjoying the afternoon sunshine while we sweated next door. On arriving at the car, I realised I had left the keys with Kevin. Walked all the way back to get the keys, back to the car, got the watering can, walked back to the plot, watered the compost heap, threw the watering can on the floor and wailed “itstoomuchanditshotanditsnevergoingtoworkandwe’llneverclearitandit’sallawfulwhymustlifebesohaaaaarrrrdd?”
We decided to call it a day. It’ll be better tomorrow.