After a five-and-a-half-year happy partnership, my favourite gardening boots have died – well to be more accurate the right one actually broke in half.
I puzzled over the huge range of potential boots and shoes in the glossy catalogue and eventually settled for what I considered to be the nearest to my dear, recently departed friends. They arrived and, excitedly – well for me – on they went. But lacing them up was a major challenge. Unlike the old pair that had simple laces like my brogues, these had brass hooks above the top lace holes. Pulling the laces through should give more purchase on the tightness. A bit more fiddle but I thought I’d soon get used to it.
I have to, admit though they were extremely comfortable and the first couple of hours in the garden was fine and I quickly forgot about wearing new shoes as I got stuck into removing old squash plants.
Mrs GG called me in for something or other. Then the problems started. My veg cage has very good but dark soil. The replacements had soles designed to help commando soldiers march anywhere and over anything. Certainly, good for grip. I walked out of the cage and towards the kitchen, but she came out to meet me with a welcomed mug of tea.
“Where’s all that muck come from?” was her welcoming address. I looked down in the direction of her pointing finger and, sure enough, from the veg cage door to where she was standing there was a perfect trail of mud. “Don’t come anywhere near the house in those things,” she said waving her hand dismissively towards my expensive new footwear. “You change into some more sensible in the shed before coming anywhere near the house.”
So, its back to the catalogue for a pair of dealer boots with stout soles but without the commando grip. Wearing them will, at least, get me to the porch and my slippers without any domestic upset!
Frost is all well and good but…………………
The first frost of winter are starting to appear which means I have to go into my vegetable cage and collect up the dozens of squash plants.
This in itself isn’t a problem, the difficulty lies in where to store them. The mice have already moved in on the apples being stored in an outhouse. They will, no doubt, love to refresh their diet with a little fresh squash.
It doesn’t seem to matter where I store fruit and vegetables, the little wretches find them. If anyone has some clever suggestions about overcoming this, I’d love to hear. Please email me at firstname.lastname@example.org
The Grumpy Gardener