Mucking in
Polly heads home with the first castelfranco chicory
I visited the allotment this morning. It felt a bit like returning to the scene of a crime. The place where we had hurriedly tipped two tonnes of cow manure into our partly constructed palette compost heap (and across the main path), then rushed off to return our hired tipper truck before it turned back into a pumpkin pulled by six white mice.
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