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I’m a fairly permanent person by nature: I don’t like working as a contractor, and I don’t like renting a home: I like roots. 

I like them so much I often pursue them, even when they make no financial sense. 

One of the things that attracted us to our house – apart from the killer view, the acres of space and the excellent location, you can feel free to hate me now – was the dirt cheap rent. To own this house would cost us twice what we currently pay and yet I have a growing itch to buy this tired, ramshackle house, and to fix it up.

Of course there’s nothing stopping us from skipping past the whole purchasing thing and just fixing the place up anyway. 

I tried to point that out to old Scrooge-pants, making an impassioned plea that while the house may not be ours, the joy of living in it certainly is, but apparently that is not a strong enough argument to pick out wallpaper. 

Not even when the wallpaper is really, REALLY awesome.

So in an attempt to distract myself from sobbing over Pinterest, I decided to venture into the garden.

Despite living here for a year I haven’t spent much time in the garden. 

On the bottom terrace there is a large veggie patch which the old couple who built the house had carved from the lawn. A couple who in my head are like Ellie and Carl Fredrickson, by the way. 

That was a few years ago, before failing health forced them to leave the house, so this veggie patch was pretty overgrown. 

When we moved in, Keith declared it his domain and started to beat back the foliage. He also planted a few things here and there; but nothing more organised that a shotgun spatter of greenery and nothing that would provide anything more substantial than a light brunch.

Which is why, on Saturday armed with a pair of gloves, several rubbish sacks and a toddler in a sling I went Hulk-crazy on the place.

But I did it really quietly because y’know, sleeping toddler.

By the time I finished I had cleared another quarter of the veggie patch and using the blissfully gorgeous Soil Mates I had a winning team of courgette/ zucchini and nasturtiums ready to join the party.


It was something of a team effort getting the plants into the ground; Keith dug the holes for the courgette, Esme squashed them brutally into the ground and I followed up behind begging them not to die, and adding the more delicate nasturtiums in the gaps.

I’m pretty sure it wasn’t Esme’s first plant murdering session either, but being at work when most of these things happen it was a chance for me to enjoy the children developing their connection with our food, and with the earth. In Alfie’s case it was more of a supervisory role, but hey he’s four, he’s got a rep to protect.

And because we planted TWO courgette plants, I think I can safely say I have solved any potential food shortage for Wellington this year. With the amount of sun that hits the veggie patch, I’m pretty sure the first time it rains we will be able to HEAR them grow.

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