Pretty lettuces all in a row!

There are many working bees in the garden. They live in the stone wall behind the pizza oven. Ms Tagalong could see them curiously flying around as Mr Ideasman put the finishing touches to the mosaiced (spelling?)oven. Thought you might like a sneak peek!

But of course there are working bees and working bees. This last weekend saw a few intrepid gardeners working up quite a sweat in the unseasonably hot weather. It is supposed to be Spring, Ms Tagalong heard the poor little seedlings say. They really enjoyed the friable soil though and smiled at the water retention. It is a long way from the heavy clay we started with. Loading on the compost, leaf and grass mould and lashings of poultry manure, Ms Tagalong thinks that we have a good season ahead of us.


The row of eggplants looked a little lonely so a row of pretty lettuces are now keeping them company. Ms Mova constructed a tepee of bamboo for the zucchini and cucumber to grow up, and the centre is adorned yet again with some pretty leafed lettuce.


Roofman has been using his skills building a deluxe edition henhouse with windows, skylights and decking. All mod cons don't you know. Four of the ladies couldn't wait for the renovations to be complete and spent the night in there on Saturday.
Not much to perch on. Talking of chickens, which of course we often do, Ms chicken Whisperer down from the wilds of Inverell brought tales of Teapenny and Lucky. Lucky they have quite a few roosters! Not so lucky Teapenny has been unable to turn a blind eye! Creeping up on her blind side one of the roosters has worked out how to have his wicked way by sneaking up.

Not much to do in Inverell, apparantly!

Fire and water

A hardy few gathered around the burning brazier trying to pretend it was a balmy evening for cocktails in the garden. Sat in hats and wrapped in blankets we called it a night very early on. Ms Tagalong had wanted to go to see Ms Chicken Whisperer who had come down to Newcastle visiting from very cool pastures.

'And how are the chickens settling in?' Ms Tagalong questioned. Ms Chicken Whisperer laughed and told of the amorous roosters in her new home.

Last seen by Ms Tagalong, Lucy was pretty patchy looking, naked even, having been pecked and picked on by the rest of the flock. Are there flocks of chickens? Maybe this nudity had spurned on the randy cockerel who chased her up and down trees to try to have his wicked way. So instead of being bottom of the pecking order Lucy might change her status and become the loved matriarch of her new family, beloved wife and concubine of the chief rooster.

Members of the garden and other local yokels mustered along the foreshore to plant some trees for National Tree Planting Day. Disappointedly only 6 trees arrived as
two others had been euthanased and the rest were held in quarantine. The dreaded rust! However, not to be outmanouvred, rocks were moved, others were levered into position and the ground was crow barred into submission, filled with topsoil and made ready for quarantine end.

In fact Sunday was such a whirl of social events that Ms Mova and Ms Tagalong let the girls fend for themselves. Plenty of eggs for Monday's collection?

Roosters rock the rafters

Well here we go with more chicken stories.
Cycling home from work last week by herself, Ms Tagalong cycled quickly past the garden fence and screeched to a halt outside Ms Mova's house. Knock, knock, Ms Mova what are those other chickens doing in there?
What chickens? she said from the depths of her comfy chair. We raced together into the garden and viewed the new imports. One extremely glossy blue black proud looking beast and a small multi-coloured cheeky one with feathery feet. Oh they are beautiful, I whispered, who could have brought them?

Ms Mova sighed and Ms Mova thinks she might have said something rude. Beautiful! They're bl**** cockerels!


Oh no. What now? Yes, now Ms Tagalong could see; strutting around the pen, fighting with the hens and each other, spurs on their legs and of course the frightful crowing noise gaining in volume.

There was actually no prevarication, no hesitation, we had to catch them and dispose of them, as magnificent as they were. Ms Tagalong wasn't putting her hand up for neck wringing though and Ms Mova felt as squeamish. Coq au vin anyone? The solution was so secret we really can't tell you but be sure no chickens/roosters were killed in the making of this solution. The hens were very happy to be a feminist enclave again.

More chicken news when Ms Chicken Whisperer brought back the two sickly ones. Teapenny and Lucy legless, as they are now called, somehow became unwanted when a wandering spouse returned home. Ms Tagalong has suspicions that the naughty girls messed up the house hoping that he would stay away, to no avail! Ms Chicken Whisperer once more becomes Ms Designer and has grand plans or is it grand designs for some mosaic in the garden? Watch out for an interesting workshop.