Start with the latter.
I cleared and manured and covered my “raised beds”. I’ll test the soil and probably need to lime it in February or March. So three square yards, at least, will be weed-free and rarin’ to go in the spring. I filled the compost bin with rotten courgettes and run-to-seed lettuces. I began thinking about next year’s strategy – I have achieved gluts in both courgettes and runner beans, and it is now time to concentrate firmly on things we actually like eating. French beans are a subject that rarely do well for me. There’s room for expansion there.
Next time I must choose and clear and manure the permanent spot for seakale.
But the highlight of the weekend was the visit of Alexander and Ketki and their little boys. We celebrated, so to speak, by planting the pinus sylvestris aurea (the Golden Scots Pine) our children gave us on Games Day, ’07, to mark our Golden Wedding. My husband re-potted the tree at the time and left it to get used to its new pot. He thinks that treatment is good for a tree. I disagree.
But now it’s in the ground. (That's the tree, between Thomas, to the left, and James.) It was a tough job. It’s in rough ground, in a hole generously deeper and wider than the root ball. Every cubic inch of the soil was sifted for couch grass and nettle roots before being tucked around the tree. We had glorious weather for the struggle. The next day, not so, as you see. But my husband got a little house built with wire netting, after this picture was taken.
I kept my nose to the grindstone, sock-wise, and made good progress. A visit to London looms, rather soon. That should finish off this pair and advance me to KF. Note the new Progress Bar.
The package from Get Knitted was here when we got back. (The Secret of Life is a good-sized letter box.) I finished off the stripe of the ASJ I was engaged in, and have added a generous one in Franklin’s Panopticon, now that I’ve got plenty of it.
It looks blue here. It's also greenery-yallery.
JennyS, I’ve been to your Ravelry projects page (and I love your avatar, if that’s what it’s called). I think we’re folding our Surprise Jackets the same way – I think the mitre on the front, from the bottom hem to the armpits, is the increase mitre, on yours as well as mine. But goodness knows: no pattern on earth is more confusing. And the part I’m knitting at the moment, after the mitres change direction, is the most confusing of all.
You can't really see the new mitre, in the picture above. It appears only in the form of bunching at the armpits. Here is the mitre, spread out. In this form, it's unintelligible.