Gardens are a form of autobiography. – Sydney Eddison, Horticulture magazine, August/September 1993

If Sydney is right I hate to think what The Garden at The Great Urban Ark says about me at the moment.

It would probably be a shortish book speculating on what might have been had I actually been equipped with a  green thumb.

Actually a green anything would probably help.

It’s not that I don’t like gardening – I love gardening.

There are even things I’m quite good at growing – I do have a most impressive celery patch I must say. 

Well it would be impressive if more than two of the five people in our house liked the stuff…I can’t seem to give it away at the moment.

No my problem is more centred around the fact that there are so many other things that require my attention at The Ark that by the time I get to The Garden – the rain/frost/aphids (or a combination thereof) have beaten me to it. 

I grew some incredible carrots recently – they were incredibly sweet and incredibly small.

To get a mouthful you needed at least a half dozen – I’m not sure what I did wrong there but clearly it was something.

Far more concerning however would be the chapter on nasturtiums.

Miss 10 and I thought it would be a good idea to plant nasturtiums – especially as they are both pretty and edible (the female contingent of The Ark likes plants with double usage properties).

What we didn’t count on was the nasturtiums having a mind of their own and taking over the neighbourhood.

I kid you not  – every morning the patch is a little larger and a little less of the lawn remains. Each weekend Miss 10 and I discuss doing something with them but so far we’ve been successful in avoiding the problem entirely.

The Indian Runners can regularly be seen investigating the encroaching creepers and since they seem to return unscathed I have concluded they are not yet carnivorous.

The rest of the book of course would be taken up with The Terrible Twins who are still ruling The Ark with iron paws. 

Zeena has started to settle down in so much as she has moved from pouncing on my hemlines at any given moment to taking over sofa cushions and beds and treating anybody who dares to try and move her to a withering glare and a leisurely display of claw.

If she must be moved, her preferred method of transport is to be delicately carried and deposited in the sunniest spot available.

Her tail flicks bear a suspicious resemblance to a royal dismissal…

Ozzie on the other hand has become the feline equivalent of juvenile delinquent..

He refuses to walk anywhere and ankles, shins, and anorak cords are in grave danger if Ozzie is lurking.

Nor does he have one iota of respect for his elders and betters, regularly pouncing on the tail of his older ‘step-siblings’ until they are forced to remonstrate with him.

Sadly all this does is encourage him to be even more obnoxious.

However, the little monster took things one paddy paw too far a few nights ago by spraying all over a basket of clean laundry and as I write he is at the vet’s office recovering from being neutered.

Hopefully this indignity will not only ensure he is unable to father any strays but will bring his obnoxiousness down to a level the rest of The Great Urban Ark can cope with.

I hope winter is not being too unkind to you and yours and until next month, stay well, stay safe and stay happy.