Another fine week, but with increasing chilly winds, so I wrapped up warm when I went to the Hill today.
I had the place to myself until Fuchsia Allen came by with his unfeasibly large dog, and stopped to say hello. We chatted about the talk on dahlias that is taking place in the club house next month, and I suggested a seed swap at the same time. We'll see if the committee think it's a good idea.
I jigged about with the second of the four dalek composters until I could release the contents in a controlled fashion on the bed. Only about half the contents were ready to use, and it was quite dry in the bin - perhaps I should empty a watering can into the bins each visit in future. It's a shame that the lids aren't porous.
I put the uncomposted stuff back in the bin once it was newly positioned in the next bed up, and also half a dozen bags of manure that a kind soul had put on one side for me on the plot when the muck was last delivered. It tends to arrive in the week, and there is often none left by the time I get to it - I think my fairy godmother was Woodchippings Paul - I must thank him when I next see him.
I forked over this bed and the adjacent one before digging some parsnips to take home - and spent the journey back pondering how to use the rest of these along with half a dozen or so fat celeriac which will all need lifting soon in time for the new season's planting.