They told me I would grow out of it…

I’ve always loved my garden but the hard work has always been done by Himself. I have simply directed operations and enjoy the end result. But by “middle age” things began to change – I developed an addiction.

Everyone said, “Don’t worry, she’ll grow out of it! It’s only a grandchild substitute”. But three grandchildren and nine years further on, the addiction is as strong as ever – stronger even….

I simply can’t stop myself! I HAVE to plant seeds – I have to prick out and pot on. And throwing away excess seedlings is a highly emotive act. I press them on family members – I ask Himself to squeeze more than you should in to the allotment. All because I cannot stop myself sowing seeds.

My master plan to keep us in vegetables and flowers all year is pages long – each month has it’s allotted “sowings” over 20 in each month in spring. Even in November and December I find I have to sow something. Everything is dated and logged for future reference. Over a hundred seed packets lurk in the seed box. The conservatory groans under the weight of propagators. There isn’t a space to be found in the greenhouse…… The veg plot in the garden is full – and more so, as trellising drips with climbing beans and pots with toms and peppers. And that’s before we get to the allotment!

Then crisis time comes! We’ve booked a holiday – but can I trust anyone else to look after my “children”? Sometimes tomato and pepper plants come with us in the caravan – even bits of guttering sprouting salad leaves have to come too….

Please – is there a cure? Or am I to spend the rest of my life with filthy fingernails, playing midwife to these wonderful little green shoots that feed as all year round and provide the flowers that deck the house?

Or, if truth be told, perhaps I don’t really want to be cured…..

From an Addicted Cultivator