A Year On

A beach in Collioure , a glorious Monday  but with hardly anyone around ; the latest ‘couvre-feu ‘ in effect. A now tranquil scenery reclamed from the hoards, but a disaster for the 'commercants'. Was it only  13 months  ago that the virus impacted lives so fundamentally, starting with the first lock down ?

Our response to this forced isolation was intense garden activity , and the establishment of a potager . The threat to the supply of toilet rolls was a  media event  ; so perhaps we would have difficulty with fruit and veg. The reed beds meant we could use recycled water and there was a space amongst recently planted fruit trees . Confined to a 1 km radius , digging could provide an outlet for spare energy .

As with all our projects , this one grew in extent and expense .Chancellors are currently spending stratospheric sums to maintain economies ; so I have followed their example . Concrete paths , greenhouse , wind break , birds netting ; let alone fertiliser , plants and seeds. This is an  investment in the future ; our children's , paid for by savings in our overseas holidays .

The area under cultivation has grown four fold ; that was an awful lot of couch grass to be removed , involving deep digging and microscopic removal of every last morsel . Twelve months of perpetual effort ; not forecast.

But now I can sit back and enjoy , hopefully , the fruits of all this effort.  More so in the evening ,as with no cars and planes , human noise has virtually disappeared . Swish, swish , the hypnotic rhythm of the sprinkler; a blackbird rummaging amongst the mulch of wood chippings; cicadas starting their evening call.  A relaxation earned is so much more pleasurable .