Yesterday Sandra and I went out for a walk - well, she needs to escape sometimes from the 4 enormous chaps in her family - and found ourselves close to the allotment, so we went in, on a sort of unannounced inspection. Somehow it didn't look as bleak and neglected as last time we looked. Maybe it was all the burgeoning green, the tight little buds everywhere, the fact that the shed has remained dry despite half its tin roof having blown off. The burgeoning green will include a terrifying amount of pernicious weeds, of course, but so far it all looks hopeful and encouraging. Last year I wasn't fit to do very much on the allotment, but this year will be different!
So, somewhat inspired and ashamed at the same time, and despite not having gardening clothes on (well, Sandra didn't; you can't tell with me), we got the wheelbarrows and trundled off to the heap of manure (thank you, anonymous stable donor!) outside the gate, and barrowed 6 loads along to our plot. It's a start. Another 600 barrows would just about do it. It didn't smell overpowering, and we managed to stay quite clean too.
Then I poked gingerly at the pond with a stick for a bit, and found it densely packed with rotting leaves, and most unlikely to attract frogs this Spring. It stank most vilely, like the worst blocked drain. Even Angus, who maintains that frogs will breed in a puddle, might lose his optimism in the stench of our little pond, once our pride and joy. Big job to do next week in our Spring Offensive! ...the Battle of Frogspawn Ridge....Sandra has bought strong long rubber gloves, but I think she may need a gas mask too.