We weren’t invited to the badger party held round ours last night. I don’t know if it was a wedding, funeral, bar mitzvah or maybe a young cub had earned his stripes whatever the occasion a great time was clearly had by all. After an evening away I heard a shout from the purple sitting room (now cream) “My vincas! – you little…” I did hear more but for your sake I’ll pretend I didn’t. The vincas had nothing on the cyclamen, which we found gaily strewn over the patio. The situation looked worse than it was. The badgers, I say badgers I have no proof it was them although we think they may be in cahoots with the local cats, aren’t interested in the plants they just uproot them to get at the worms.
And although they don’t pay us for the privilege they reward us with nightly gifts of chewed up plastic containers, footballs, tubs of cream – double and single, assorted sticks, bags of mouldy potatoes and last night a huge piece of ceramic planter (thankfully not ours).
What I know about the spread of bovine TB wouldn’t fit on the back of half a postage stamp but I do hope we can find a different solution to the badger cull. Our garden lay empty for quite some years and as such the entire local badger population uses it as a cut through to wherever it is they go, so as dusk draws in we have a gin and tonic, turn all the lights off and watch the Glastonbury Cabaret as Muddy calls it. In the confines of our garden badgers are comical, beautiful, inquisitive creatures. I appreciate farmers have different opinions but I base my comments on the behavior I see.
So with all the bedding plants and various perennials safely tucked back up in their respective beds we spend a good hour re-weeding the exact same empty plot we weeded just a fortnight ago. Both Muddy and myself appear to have naturally green fingers, toes and thumbs when it comes to growing any kind of weed you could care to mention.
Special thanks to Muddy’s mum Di for this week’s gardening tip: Do you get a stiff neck from gazing longingly at the lovely unreachable apples taunting you from the top of the tree? Find yourself an extendable 18ft golf ball retriever and sigh no more.Showing record 116 of 179 Prev | Next