Neglect.
I am a perpetrator of neglect. Of the vegetable kind.
You'll all remember the childish enthusiasm of a year and a bit ago when I gleefully acquired my allotment. Well. What can I say. If there were social workers attached to the care of veggie patches, my little scrap of land would be on an At Risk register and I'd be the subject of a case conference of the carroty kind right about now.
Of course, it's all down to the growing of another kind I was doing last year. That of the Supreme Diva and Overlord of the Universe, aka, Baby Oub. Foolishly I thought once she arrived I'd be free to mind my little green children. But Supreme Diva and Overlord of the Universe demands TOTAL devotion and if I were to leave her side for just one moment, I would have been disappeared, never to be seen again. (Her secret police are ruthless).
That said, we have had a breakthrough. Supreme Diva and Overlord of the Universe is currently locked up in the Hague awaiting trail for Crimes Against Her Mammy, (Or maybe it's not the Hague, it could be her bedroom I'm thinking of.)
(And just in case any social workers are reading this, she's not really locked up. Yes, there are bars. But that's just on her cot.)
I've been sneaking out to the allotment. Sadly someone stole it in the middle of the night and replaced it with a wild uninhabitable wilderness. A wild uninhabitable wilderness that has been on growth hormones. And wants to be in the Guinness Book of Records for the its wildness. It wears a leather jacket, rides a motor bike and menaces old ladies. It drinks too much and has piercings. And by jove, it just doesn't care.
I was considering faking my own death to escape it. But, you know, that's not what a good mother would do. Of course, as we all know, I'm nothing like a good mother, so the faked death is still an option. But. But. Maybe it's redemption I'm after. A chance to show the world, that I can, that I will! There will be beetroot! That can be courgettes! There shall be shallots!!
Come to me my little leafy offspring.
Grow my xylem and phloem children.
Crank up your transpiration stream and osmos the love to your little chlorophyll hearts.
Mama is back and she's got fertilizer!
9 comments:
I do so miss you when you are gone! Lovely wilderness, great kids, apart from she who must be obeyed! Ah but she's lovely too! Looking forward to sampling the veg....meanwhile over @120Socks, I met some pretty wild flowers - not quite capable of feeding you, but oh so pretty!!!
Oh I long for pretty flowers Socks! At the moment we just got nasty ugly weeds. And a few potatoes.
I like that shiny grey-black mud. I want some of that action!
And child labour. Nothing like it.
Good luck. Have you actually had any sunshine this year? We still haven't.
Well, Titus, in true Irish fashion, we caught a glimpse of the sun yesterday, striped to our nuddees, ran around like heathens, and now all have sunburn.
If we could only have more than half an hour of sun a year we might remember about the sunscreen...
I hope you're not growing celery ... you neglect that, and you end up being stalked.
(my apologies ...)
DA - Groan! You really should know better...
(I did laugh though)
Did you know sunshine can penetrate cycling helmets? Our child with the transparent skin (blonde mother/red-haired father - what hope?) managed to get blisters on his ears on Scotland's one warm day so far.
Wow, that is good going alright. It sounds extremely sore too! I think there is some sort of ancient Irish curse involving blistered ears...
cycling helmets can also end up being an insect graveyard, if you've overdone the repellent it can actually catch flies as you cycle... oh the hazards of a cycling helmet,
and yes - great child labour, our fella has shown no interest in housework or work of any kind as yet
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