We headed outside today. The vegetable garden is a bit like a time warp, exactly as I left it back in July when pregnancy symptoms were in full force and I was so scared that something, anything, could cause things to go wrong. I remember so clearly this time last year, when I was venturing into the garden for the start of new season and being so unbearably sad that I was doing these little springtime tasks alone, rather than with the child that should have been there with me. Of course this year it is all different. Alana slept in her sling as I cleared away a few old pots and planted some seeds. My vegetable gardening plans this year are pretty tame, just lots of potatoes and a few things in the greenhouse. I think in the past I’ve been a bit ambitious and it all gets a bit overwhelming. I hope she loves being outside as much as me. I want to her know the smells, and the feel of the earth. Is it selfish to hope that your children love the same things as you? I want her to love what she loves too.
But anyway. There are lots of dead vegetables. Some gigantic weeds. The kind so big that if you dig them out you leave a huge, clear patch of earth. A couple of weeks ago we had some tall, wobbly trees cut back and my lovely inlaws have chopped and cleared the wood while we were up north. The chickens are as cheeky as ever. They gathered at the gate while we explored and I swear they were whispering excitedly to each other ‘the lady is back growing things, sure, the man build a new fence but we will find our way through!’ Sure enough, I turned and when I looked back Scarlet was pecking about on the wrong side of the fence. I have no idea how she did it. She looked pretty proud of herself, as if she just wanted to show me that she could.