I reflected yesterday on the photos I put up showing some of my, how can I say, less successful attempts? Despite my stubborness, am I really so bad a gardener that those disasters happened because of my innate inability? Perhaps the reality of a stressful job, and some monumental changes to life circumstances in the past two years have been the root cause. Or have I just not got the passion required to put my garden first in my life (who else has been told to 'make time' when they blatantly don't have any?)
The amateur gardeners I know have all had to chip away at the garden, celebrating mild successes, accepting failures resulting from an abysmal summer and the pressures of their own lives, child-filled or not. I thought back to the night I had my friends round potting seeds, and the sense of excitement at all the things they could grow, the potential for a feast. And the reality now.
Then, my friend Kate unexpectedly tweeted an innocent looking link to her great blog 'Curb your Consumerism' about Personal Best Strategies. And in it she very sweetly showed me just why I garden.
Do read, and for all of you who share my haplessness, in however small a measure, there is always a reward.
Cheers
Tom
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