The Springhill Project

Bert says,

Clint's changed his mind about putting the meadow in potatoes this year. Says he has no time and anyway, what's he going to do with 9 tons of spuds.

Oh. Well we'll just have to plant a garden of potatoes somewhere.

There's nowhere for them.

What do you mean?

I don't know where we'd put them.

Balls! You mean out of fifty acres we can't find some wee place to grow a few drills of potatoes?

Well what do you suggest then?

There's no point in me suggesting anything for as soon as I say what about there, or maybe there, you'll have about a million reasons why we can't because that's what you love. Being negative.

And so we bickered on until Zoe and Martha appeared at the door all wellied up and ready for a day's gardening. I was just a bit mortified. Caught arguing like a pair of weans yet again! Even though we quit it the second she appeared she'd know. So I said,

Great timing Zoe. We were just discussing where we'd plant our spuds in light of Clint reneging on the meadow.

Within thirty minutes we'd all viewed up a couple of places and made our decision. Well Zoe made it. It's such a relief when a responsible adult turns up and puts the sillies on the right track even if she is their daughter.

We ended up having a most productive day. Rachael turned up after lunch and we sowed, and dug and pruned and planned. My primary task was entertaining Miss Martha. I had no complaint about that. And that's why I've had no time to blog this weekend. Taking gardening leave.