Over the Garden Wall
Bryony Lewis

I hadn’t intended to let anything dampen my spirits this summer. The veggie patch was coming along brilliantly, I had great hopes of the outdoor tomatoes and didn’t think for one minute that we’d have anything but the kind of lovely weather we enjoyed last summer.
I was envisaging being able to gather trug-loads of red peppers, courgettes, lettuces and beans before I’d even planted the seeds let alone planted the resulting plants outside after they’d gained that good headstart indoors. Such a warm inner glow those thoughts gave me. It was like an episode of The Good Life and going swimmingly before everything went pear shaped leaving Tom and Barbara battling to stay afloat. Then the rain came, and the rain came again, followed by torrential rain, high wind and even more torrential rain. The kind of rain we would have be delighted to see last Summer when the water butts were empty and plants were starting to droop. But still, I thought to myself on a drizzly Sunday morning as I surveyed my sodden mess of a garden it will right itself.
I re-staked the taller plants and re-erected the bean poles, tied in the peas, with gusto thinking to myself that when I get back from London at the end of the week, everything will be fine. It wasn’t. My lovingly tended tomato plants had taken another vicious lashing and many were completely destroyed. The ever growing army of slugs had advanced on and eaten up my lettuces and had been gnawing at (do they have teeth as such?) the pea pods, and most of my formerly healthy, cosseted courgette plants were now nothing more than a few stripped stalks. I don’t know what ate the courgette plants, I didn’t think they were a slug delicacy but I maybe wrong. I could have cried. In fact I did cry. All that effort only to have nature wreak havoc and destroy the lot. It sounds silly really to have become so emotional about it but I have formed a serious attachment to my garden. It focused my mind somewhat too as my attempts at growing a few veggies weren’t that important really, not in the great scheme of things.
We weren’t reliant on the crops and can easily afford to buy what food we need. It is just that it would have wonderful to celebrate the first proper full growing season in my garden with a bountiful crop. I wanted to be able to share my joy in seeing simple seeds flourish into plants and produce lovely edible fruit and vegetables. When you work as I do in London through the week returning home to the garden takes on whole new significance. It has become my focal point, my sanctuary, my special place.
It was an elderly neighbour who caught me wiping away a few tears and told me never to mind because every season was different and had its own bumper crop. The apples, he said, would be huge and juicy because of all the rain and a little dash of sunshine here and there would ensure that my surviving beans were delicious. Imagine, he said, if you were growing essential food for your family as they do in lots of poor countries and you’d lost everything through drought or flooding, then you’d be entitled to cry because you’d know your children would be crying with hunger and that you’d have nothing to give them. He was was absolutely right, of course, and brought everything back into perspective. I am sending a donation to a charity he gave me details of that provides women in poor areas of Africa with basic tools and seeds. The local church here supports it on a regular basis and I think I’ll be making it my regular good cause too.
Feeling better, I pulled myself together, as you do, and salvaged the best of what remained and topped up the compost heap with the rest. We would at least have some home grown food to eat. On the upside the once patchy lawn was verdant and the potatoes seemed to be enjoying the regular watering though my neighbour has told me to watch out for scab – a symptom of overly wet conditions that can destroy the entire crop. And I thought gardening was all
about the good stuff.
There is still so much to learn and my evenings in London will be spent mugging up on all kinds of techniques and methods for getting the best results.