The hard frost never came and it rained and rained. The ground was heavy and newly born streams created their own course down through the orchard. Over two days we shifted the bark mulch, bag by sodden bag from Park End Farm stockyard where Brian keeps his vintage tractors.We loaded up our elderly landrover drove the 1/4 of a mile up the hill to home, then unloaded and carried the mulch across the field to spread on the beds.
The beds looked great when we finished and the sun came out briefly one afternoon and lit up our golden reward.
New Year came and after an lovely evening of prosecco and damson gin cocktails, and a day of loafing and chatting with friends the annual muck day was upon us. Forty bags of the very finest horse manure to feed the new rhubarb crowns and gooseberry and blackcurrant bushes. Delivered curbside by an impressively butch truck. And thank god for the pirated Wickes trolley which meant we could shift eight bags at a time. It's got my name on it.
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