Garden Matters.

I like the American expression ‘go figure.’ It’s strong, concise, and carries just the right flavour of resigned indignation. So here’s one to consider:

I want two tomato plants for my greenhouse. I’ve only left space for two because, assuming they grow well, two will provide far more tomatoes than I need. A few weeks ago I went into the Homebase store and they had them in stock, sold singly for £1 each, but I decided not to buy them because the weather was chilly at the time with the prospect of night frosts. Now that it’s turned a bit warmer, I went in again today to get them. The same plants are being sold only in trays of three at the special offer price of 3 for £4. So go figure.

And just to complete the story, the fruit shop hasn’t got them in yet, and the ones in the garden centre were a bit frazzled and looked about to ring down the curtain.

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In other garden news:

Remember Mrs B, the lady blackbird with no tail and some feathers missing? I saw her this morning starting to build a nest in my big forsythia bush. That bush is due for a heavy trim in a week or so when the flowers have gone, because if you leave it until the summer you don’t get flowers the following spring.

I explained the problem to her, but she did what women usually do: waited until I’d moved aside, and then carried on regardless. I will, needless to say, defer to her procreative interests and leave trimming the bush until the chicks have fledged. They will almost certainly be around and singing beautifully next spring, whereas I might not be. Around, that is; I never sing beautifully.