Adventures in the life of an English allotment
I may have been somewhat over-enthusiastic yesterday in Wilkinson's. Hauling the loot home took ages! This morning after breakfast, I raised our egg boxes to find three big ones to put on the window sill in the dining room. There is always something so exciting about putting the potatoes out to chit. Maybe it's because... Continue Reading →
Winter in the UK is wet. Not full monsoon for weeks on end but a persistent drizzle interspersed with heavy rain accompanied by howling winds. You may wonder why Brits have no problem going outdoors in this depressing weather. It's simple. If we waited for the rain to stop, we wouldn't leave the house for... Continue Reading →
Why is it that whenever I go to feed the chickens, the heavens open? Even the merest thought of "I'll go and feed the chickens in a bit..." seems to send out some invisible signal to the clouds to ready themselves for a full monsoon. Usually this phenomena is limited to my leaving the house... Continue Reading →
I love lunchtimes at the moment. It's an opportunity to let the chickens at home explore the garden. I find watching the interactions between the different groups fascinating. The silkies are the first out, always keen to destroy another patch of the lawn. Cirrus is always first out and she usually wanders near to the... Continue Reading →
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