I am hungry for potatoes. Here is my plan. Lay down all these chinese newspapers I can't read. Go to Buffie's and haul in buckets of horse manure. Go to central landscaping and buy a bale of straw, while dropping off some green waste for their compost (dead lemon tree, dead grevillea, camellia hedge prunings). Scrounge some potatoes that are sprouting in the sack in the kitchen. Make a potato bed. Wait for Christmas.
I will site this little potato patch on the corner bed next to the yacons and broad beans, and mum won't notice it's there because it's disguised as part of the border. I am just extending it a little outwards.
I have learned that growing potatoes in tyres is not a great idea. Whoever advocated that was a bit nuts, or just had too many tyres they didn't know what to do with them. I would suggest upcycling them into rubber shoe soles.
My other plants I snuck in while mum wasn't looking was a punnet of strawberries in amongst the pak choi, and sweet violas or is it pansies? Pansies are just giant violas aren't they? A dozen violas for my symphony orchestra garden. The soil there is basically stone chips and clay so I can't even dig a hole to put them in I placed them sideways. I am hoping to attract some birds to my symphony orchestra garden as I have all the background music but no choir. I have put in some limelights or rather liriope, and there's a few strings which is fuschia procumbens, but since I moved the heavenly bamboo I might need some other kind of bamboo for flutists. Camellia is the fat lady who sings.
Well I better get going. Mum has just said I have to do all my washing by hand as my muddy gardening uniform will dirty the washing machine. I am turning up to work grubbier and grubbier each day. One of the gardening club group asked me if my company washed our uniforms for us. I wish! Where do they do that? We have to wash our own. It's just bad luck if it's raining on the weekend which is the only time I can do my washing.
Bring on the mud baths.
