Every year I have great hopes for the garden.
I plant nasturtiums in the shady, barren place underneath the hawthorn hedge. Can you see them?
They're there in spirit, I'm sure.
This year is the Year of the Veg. Here are my tomatoes.
They are the two (barely) surviving remnants of an entire tray that I planted with Littlest.
(Do not mention, if you see her, that her two-year-old apple tree sprig has finally given up the ghost.)
Many, many strawberries were meticulously pinned into pots last year. Many of them.
I lovingly tied them down with sparkly pipe cleaners nicked from the craft box.
I have few of them left, either.
Underneath this veil is the beginnings of a single post-apocalyptic carrot,
the last of its kind after the flies came.
It is now fully protected against predators. And sunshine.
But for every plant you try to grow, another one is thriving despite you.
Year after year, I have tried to kill the prickly blackberry bramble.
The fruits are nice, but it was out of control and threatening to pierce the bouncy castle.
I finally lost the will to fight this year, and I wound it round a ladder.
This California Poppy has no concept of colour-matching.
It's not just plants that turn up uninvited. This is a lovely garden roller, but it isn't really ours.
A few years ago, the man who laid the turf for our lawn borrowed it to roll the ground flat.
It was so heavy it nearly killed him and Mr Coffee, who had to lift it up a set of stairs.
He never returned for it.
This post is for Emma, who reminded me that a list of tasks isn't the only thing you can find in a garden.
Thanks to the Random Number Generator, the winner of my Kelloggs giveaway is Nick at Not Fit for Purpose, who has a bag of baking things on their way to him. Nick isn't just any blogger, but an old boyfriend I went out with when I was at university. Which just goes to show, ladies - there's no need to worry if your husband is chatting to his ex on Facebook! No need at all! In fact, you might get a nice new Rice Krispies apron!