Planes

Once a year, when it can’t be put off any longer, we empty the more rotted of our two compost bins. Today it couldn’t be put off any longer, even though we discovered that the wheelbarrow tyre had also rotted. We uncovered the row of bricks I embedded in the soil 20-odd years ago to demarcate the weed-patch we define as flower bed from the weed-patch we define as lawn and were surprised to realise that 20 years of compost has raised the height of the soil by about 4 inches, leaving one of the few plants that has survived our occasional attempts at gardening languishing in a hollow. We carefully removed it, forked the compost (along with ten bags of manure over-optimistically bought at the front door a few years ago) into the whole bed, then replanted it 4 inches higher. Probably both the wrong time of year and the wrong temperature to be doing it...