Pelting down with rain this morning, it was, on my first day back at work. Typical, I thought. Immediately visions of me being holed up like a cold, drowned rat in the pig ark began imprinting on my mind. Not only sitting like a cold, drowned rat in a pig ark, but also surrounded by our volunteer workers bemoaning how cold and wet THEY were and wouldn’t it be much nicer if we could go somewhere warm and dry instead, with tea and biscuits, and Denise regaling a lovely fairy story using her wide repertoire of funny voices.
Well, that wasn’t going to happen because between 1st April and 30th September, we are an ‘outdoors only’ gardening gang, come rain, shine, sleet, hail, thunder, lightning, blizzards etc etc. Inclement weather drives us to shelter in either the pig ark or the polytunnel, neither of which are particularly comfortable places to be for any length of time whilst being stared at by other people expecting to be entertained whilst the inclemency passes over.
I checked the Met Office weather forecast. They are marginally less likely, I have discovered, to lie about the weather than the BBC weather forecasters. Minimum of 70% chance of pelting rain continuing until 2 p.m said the Met Office, with a Yellow Warning for thunderstorms between 2 and 4 p.m.
Well, there was no way I was going to spend the entire day feeling miserable because I was cold and wet, so immediately I set about making a large pan of broccoli, cauliflower and nutmeg soup so that at least I could have a comforting lunch during what was looking set to be a grim weather day. Just about got it cooked, shmooshed and in my thermos flask before I set off for work. I made sure to wear a long sleeved double layered top, wellies and thick socks AND my body warmer, too. And packed my yellow kagoule.
Arrived at work just before 9 a.m. Rain stopped immediately, the sun came out in force and by lunchtime I was sweltering in a 22 degrees heatwave, with hot soup for my repast and a bit of sun burn prickling the back of my neck.
Bloody typical! What I Learned Today, then, was DO NOT believe the Met Office weather forecast EVER. In fact, DO NOT believe ANY so called official agency that professes to know more about anything than you. In my experience, they know absolutely NOTHING! Me and my tarot cards do a better job of predicting stuff than the specialists of this world, and that includes the weather. Trust yourself, your instincts, your intuition, that bit of seaweed hanging outside your back door. Seek advice from no one. Be brave - make up your own mind about everything. You don’t get rabbits, or gnus, or hummingbirds or bream seeking advice from their fellow creatures, do you? And that’s because they are infinitely wiser and more intuitive than us idiot humans. Animals, insects, birds, even FISH for heavens’ sake, don’t need a nanny state to govern their lives. They just get on with living. They don’t even seem bothered by what the weather is going to be like, either, but then I suppose they’ve never had to plan a celebratory picnic or longest conga world record attempt.
Anyway, a bright, hot and sunny day ensued. My little gang of two and I were tasked with creating a polyculture veg bed. Polyculture is planting two or more different varieties of useful plants together in the same bed, not necessarily in straight lines. Which is just as well because I was feeling a bit rogue this morning after the weather débâcle so when my boss disappeared with her own little gang of two, this is what my gang and I did:
1) we raided the seed packet box and selected 6 different sets of seeds : red beetroot, golden beetroot, radish, turnip, lettuce and carrot
2) we got a mug and a spoon and looked over our shoulders to make sure my boss was still out of sight
3) we measured out a teaspoon of each of the six different seeds and stirred them together in the mug. The mix looked like this:
Note the bright rays of sunshine bouncing off the inside of the mug. Not rain. Sunshine.
4) we prepared our veg bed by doing some careful weeding and raking. We looked over our shoulders to make sure we were still boss-free
5) we divided the seed mix between the three of us, then positioned ourselves around the prepared bed like the three witches from ‘Macbeth’ but ‘in sunshine, swelt’ring, not in rain…’
6) we checked again that no one was watching and then…
7) we flung the seed mix at the seed bed with wild and gay abandon! (I use the term ‘gay’ here in its original meaning of ‘happy’ or ‘joyful.’ Just to make that clear.)
Officially, we were ‘broadcasting’ the seed, you know, in ye olde farming sense. But I always imagine broadcasting to be a serious undertaking requiring a measured and sensible approach in order to create an even seed spread. Reader, this term does not take into account the giggling like wicked fairies atmosphere of the occasion created by me and my gang. ‘Flung’ and ‘gay abandon’ do.
8) we then made an enormous marker label in the style of an old fashioned road junction sign, you know, with different pointers indicating different road directions, to indicate there were six seed types in the bed but heaven knows where and how they will emerge from their seed soup beginnings.
The day turned out way better than the Met Office had me originally believe.
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