Tuesday, August 21, 2012

So I was talking to this woman by the strawberries ...

... that were on special.  We were talking about the reasonable price, which led on to her holidaying in the UK where she encountered extremely cheap raspberries.

I went on to explain in some detail (I know, you are surprised to hear it) how we grow raspberries, that they are extremely easy to grow in the climate, that they came in before Christmas so you sometimes missed out if you went away, that children loved to nibble (I am thinking of you, Monster2 - a kilo is too much raspberry for a toddler), etc.

She gave me a tired look and said she should think about it, and that her children would love it.

Then, as we turned to fill our respective trolleys, I noticed she was quite pregnant.  Ye gad, she probably doesn't have time for that sort of malarky.   So, aside from the fact that the chances of her reading this are extremely close to zero, I apologise.  Don't bother buying and planting raspberries.  Stick your feet up until the children get home from school. Have a cup of tea. 

When the baby season was upon us, we were lucky if we kept the laundry basket from evolving to the stage where it started raiding the fridge.  Occasionally I would take the crowbar for a wander to the front yard to work on the holes that would eventually get shrubs.  If you could get a inch depth, you could start watering the proto-holes to dig another inch next time.  Mostly the crow-bar went "spronggg" and leapt two feet in the air.  Ah, concrete-like clay after a decade of drought.

I am sure babies have some appeal but it is not a great time for gardening.

2012 - after 2 la Nina years
2008 - dryish

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