Gardening by fire

Last year's gardening project went a long way, but it stalled in September, when we ran out of a) summer, b) energy and c) money. There are unlaid paths, heaps of clay, rampant weeds (both alive and dead) and bits of brick and general building crap everywhere.

There's still very little of a) and c) in evidence, but M and I scraped together a bit of b), wrapped ourselves up warm and ventured out to assess the situation.

The tools were accessible because I had already tidied up the shed, formally marking the beginning of the gardening year, but it was nigh on impossible to work out what to do with them.

So we started with things that weren't diggable. M rather manfully volunteered to take all the rubble to the tip, and I started wrestling with the girly lattice bits installed on the top of each fence panel by our predecessor that have slowly but surely been falling off for (I imagine) the last decade.

And then I decided to burn them in the firebowl. And what a fantastic idea that was: they were dry as a bone so they burnt like a dream. I worked my way down the garden pulling old nails out with the hammer, wrenching the bits of wood apart, dragging them through the ivy / honeysuckle / brambles that were holding them in place and carrying them down to the fire to break up and burn.

Three hours outside in February and still toasty warm, if rather smoky by the end of it. Fantastic. I saved some of the wood for next Sunday so I can be warm while I am weeding.

joella