Trying not to be part of the problem.

The Open Air

Sunday was a good day.  Maybe it was the spontaneous, unorthodox breakfast I russelled myself up.  Admittedly, it wasn't all that filling, but I'm a firm believer in having vegetables for breakfast.  Why don't we do that?  For whatever reason, some foods are 'breakfast foods', and some are not.  Bollocks to that.  Try having vegetables for breakfast tomorrow.  See how it feels.

Anyway, with all that green goodness inside of me, I decided to spend the morning on the move.  The plan was to go over to my friends' Sarah and Jon, who recently moved to Farnworth, about 6 miles away from me, in the afternoon and spend some time in the garden, seeing what we could do with it.  It's hit me recently just how much I enjoy being around plants - a thought so simple I'm having trouble processing it - so just the idea of being given the chance to be part of shaping someone else's garden (lacking any outdoor space of my own) is one that brings me real joy.  But I'm getting ahead of myself...



It was a pleasant and implausibly English morning.  Sunday.  Perfect day for a walk.  So I made myself a tub of porridge, filled my water bottle, shoved both into my backpack, and buggered off.  It was 9:30am.  Sarah wasn't due home until 1:00.  A better reason for leisurely stroll you could not hope to find.

Some of the sights to be seen between Bury and Bolton are pleasant.




Others, less so.



Cherry blossom trees are in glorious full bloom just now, and they're everywhere.  Pay attention.



Around 11 I came across Bradley Fold Garden Centre.  As a child I hated it when my dad insisted on going to the garden centre.  Now I would happily live in one.  For some reason, there was an enormous, decorative gorilla on sale:


It must have been at least eight feet tall.  Why would you want that in your garden.  On second thoughts, why wouldn't you?

Other, more predictable items were available.







Also available: evil incarnate.


This snake was not for sale.  I try to love all animals, but I doubt I'll ever be able to make my peace with snakes.  I crapped my pants, and left.

I arrived at Sarah and Jon's more or less on time, and only slightly before Sarah did.

Previous occupants of Sarah and Jon's jolly wee home didn't seem much interested in gardening, it would seem:


We drank tea and talked about maybe getting some raised beds for this spot, to grow potatoes, carrots, cabbages, etc.  It's too late really to start that this year - but it's a thought for next year.  We started small, around the back.

Spinach, swiss chard, mustard greens, cress, and something else.  I forget.

Onions and beetroot, in a spontaneously repurposed rubble sack.

Jalapenos and corriander, for a sunny spot on the kitchen windowsill. 
We planted and chatted at a idle pace, and drank tea.  Jon came home from work in the afternoon, and we ate, chatted and drank more tea.  I wondered why more days can't be like this: company, dirt under my fingernails, cherry blossom trees, and giant plastic gorillas.