Sunday, 16 November 2014

Therein




Up in the polytunnel, the vine had snapped its tether and fallen over, flouncing out red leaves, exposing and breaking  a root bound pot.
Planting out could not be deferred, no matter how low the desire to dig another hole.
Heavy soil, we have, thick with clay, set with obstacles.
Vines will not like it, so we have devised a planting tube.
A crock of old pottery and some sifted out stones make a drainage band, the rest is compost, lighter layers of top soil, fine volcanic rock.
And there it is, finally planted. There may be grapes, or not, next year. But unless we had spilled this sweat, we would never know: therein the satisfaction lies.









2 comments:

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