A load of cobblers

Whilst undertaking a tour of the garden centres of Belgium the other day in my quest for a few drought/nutrient/care resistant veg I came across this rather unusual paving arrangement - obscured slighty unfortunately - and wondered if the Baron could pick up a few tips here on stonemasonary? would make a nice drive and could be incorporated into the route of the Dallas Cycle Classic?

Shed Chic

The new abode is coming along nicely. Not the house you understand; building work will start on that in a couple of weeks. I am talking about the plot shed with its amply equipped kitchenette complete with grill. You don't know how good that cheese on toast tasted yesterday. You can see that enamelware is very much in vogue and I particularly like the sitka spruce trivets, fashioned from our own felled beast, surely a must for everyone's table in the coming season. You could almost live in a place like this and Valerie often threatens to do so. In fact, it has everything you could want except the kitchen sink... which is, naturally, Al Fresco.

That was then, but this is now

So, for anyone who hasn't noticed, Shallow Onions is one year old. And in the words of Marvin Gaye, surveying his patch after a long day with the azada, the blog has been like one great big onion. Contributions from some have swelled to produce a prodigious harvest of well-rounded servings while others have withered away, buried too deep in less fruitful pursuits. But we've managed to peel back the skin on the mysteries of growing and revealed multiple layers in each other that we didn't know existed (and didn't actually want to know about). Penetrating deeper, the juices have flowed and brought us to tears on occasion. And the flavour of our lives would have been much the poorer without this vital ingredient.

And of course, it's now a year since I first made the earth move. 5,214 boulders later, I'd like to think I've started to make a noticeable difference. I'm sure you'll all be posting your then and now shots also. And what tune will we be singing in March 2012? Perhaps Marvin's eulogy to the Moray Firth climate... I heard you grew a grapevine.

Stand by your beds

You will be expecting my Phase I report following the site walkover at Mount Shittingstone. Well, the lord of the manor was on good form and it was pleasing to see that he has installed a staircase and rope ladder made out of pallets and knotted sheets to help visitors descend from the high plateau to the lowered beds without propulsion by last year's apple crop. Rumour has it that this arrangement will be upgraded to a cliff railway once Lord Shittingstone has raised some finance by selling his early carrots to the vast array of local gastropubs. The beds are all very impressive and beautifully top-dressed, mostly with a duvet of compost but one rather curiously with a mattress. Obviously embarrassed by this early mistake, he's tried to burn the evidence. But much brush has been swept away and the abyss is now bathed in light. I was a bit miffed to see Hugh's unforced rhubarb more advanced than my own chimney specimens. Just think what they'd be like if the sun ever shined down there. But what about that eponymous yardstick of vegetable growing: no, I'm afraid to report that Clodagh will be spending the next few weeks disinterring those bulbs.

Shine On

Thought I'd just get this up before the snow hits. It could be the last smug weather-related post for some time. Al, please note, on your request these are actual sunshine hours.