Wired.
Every year at this time, there is the pleasurable chore of taking down the bamboo pole structure on which I grow climbing beans. In recent years I have become tidier and more disciplined. Now I tie the 8ft poles into bundles of 12, so that I can stack them neatly in a sheltered place. The beans plants look straggly and begin to turn brown. The beans themselves have become pods many of which are dry meaning that beans can be de-podded and saved in envelopes for sowing next year. A pleasurable job but not a patch on erecting the structure at the end of May ready for a new crop.
What shall I put in this evening's soup? In a few minutes it will be time to make a stock with the remains of a leg of lamb. The stock will be fragrant with celery and mint. For the soup there will be home-grown tomatoes for certain, a few beans, some finely sliced, very small courgettes, late but not yet attacked by the frost. And probably some little cubes of the last bits of neat from the leg.
Every year at this time, there is the pleasurable chore of taking down the bamboo pole structure on which I grow climbing beans. In recent years I have become tidier and more disciplined. Now I tie the 8ft poles into bundles of 12, so that I can stack them neatly in a sheltered place. The beans plants look straggly and begin to turn brown. The beans themselves have become pods many of which are dry meaning that beans can be de-podded and saved in envelopes for sowing next year. A pleasurable job but not a patch on erecting the structure at the end of May ready for a new crop.
What shall I put in this evening's soup? In a few minutes it will be time to make a stock with the remains of a leg of lamb. The stock will be fragrant with celery and mint. For the soup there will be home-grown tomatoes for certain, a few beans, some finely sliced, very small courgettes, late but not yet attacked by the frost. And probably some little cubes of the last bits of neat from the leg.
1 comment:
The very same leg of lamb?
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