The gardener in Dr Livingstone has awoken. I thought he wasn't serious about wanting a veg garden, but when I got home from the mill he had already prepared a little bed to plant some stuff. I had bought three roots of red gooseberry. I'd like to have fruit I can simply pluck off and eat. [With a good wash of course. That darn black Bonney cat sprays everywhere, I assume these new plants will not escape the obligatory baptism.]
He had preformed a grasplantation and filled up the lawn where the conifer had once stood and its acid in needles eaten away everything.
I also bought some onions to plant, but far too many.
There wasn't anything else to put into the ground, so I got a couple of potatoes and some garlic from the kitchen.
Yeah, that's right. We actually haven't got a clue what we're doing.
I think he even forgot to water everything after he buried the lot.
The veg patch is of a very discreet nature if you can see the scale of (a small part of the garden which goes on and on behind the wall of (yet more) conifer.