The Doric Column

Mist fae the sea

Brings honey tae the bee

– Aul Sayin

By Robbie Shepherd

Published:

YE CANNA be in twa placies at eence or, as my mither ees’t tae say, ye canna be inside an oot at the same time.

I can picter her the day wi the strae hat on, comfy in my gairden seat an hidin fae the sun, as I tore in tae the gairden roon aboot es time.

Losh we hae been birslin in the heat for a feow days es wikk bit fit’s new as we turn back the pages o the gairdenin diary an sae it wis, jist a thochtie later than last eer, that aa the ither plans were knockit tae crockaneeshin as airm’t wi spad, fork, raik, an a wicker basket stappit foo o aa o the trock nott, here wis me aa ready eence mair for the darg in haun.

I shid say at es stage that the wifie o the hoose is really the heid gairdener fin, like the bee bizzin, she’s in her glory mang the seedlins in the greenhoose, the prickin oot an syne the wee planties safely hoos’t up in their caul frame beddies.

I rebat tho at that an dinna gie up the title fin she myns me at “Ye’re like like yer faither, far ower fussy till the job’s deen, aathing maun be sae trig” bit ye ken at’s nae a bad faut as lang’s ye hae time tae folla up an keep the hyeow dirlin as George Barron ees’t tae preach on The Beechgrove Gairden.

My early season hid its tribbles I can tell ye. A rush o bleed tae the heid hid me pitten oot the boxies o sweet peas tae the elements ower seen, the wee craiturs gettin the warst o Mairch an April’s wither wi sna, rain an frost that wid o haein wee lambies coorin ahin the dykes.

Syne I thocht there were tae be ower mony shargers fae jist a fairish germination an sae wid sen awa for replacement plants tae full up the hunner spacies the bamboo canes were expectin.

Dammit bit did the thrawn wee planties nae get a new lease o life an fit wis tae be deen wi the spare eens an their new siblins fae the sooth?

In spite o oor better judgement, twa mair raws o aucht fit bamboo canes noo stan tall an anither siventy-five mair sweet peas includin a hale raa o the new “Sir Jimmy Shand” variety, the healthiest o the lot.

Es, wid ye believe, fae cuttin back a feow eer ago wi nae time for the efter-care services so I some doobt it’s her wi the green fingers that’s back tae heidie – please!

I did mak the excuse that we didna hae ower gweed a season last eer an the grun far we hae pit them for a fair fyle noo micht hae got “sweet pea sick”.

At least we hae a comparison tae lippen on es time an back tae the reddin oot o the laft, did I nae come on a letter fae The North O Scotland College of Agriculture dated 29 November 1977, fin I ees’t tae show sweet peas, advisin o the problem an apairt fae soil sterilisation, ‘which is now possible using ‘Basamid’, the only cure is to move the plants to a fresh site’.

Fa signed the letter? Neen ither than ma gweed freen Jim McColl!

Time will tell es eer athoot the soun advice gaen then.

Noo tae mak room for the fresh arrivals I hid tae get rid o a muckle pampas grass that hid growen near the heicht o Stewartie Milne’s flats at the Fire Station on Anderson Drive an reets bi damn’t. It wis efter I hid dug a bigger hole than even Wendy Alexander cwid manage for hersel an a tongue-waggin fae Esma tae myn me at aal age disna come itsel, that help cam an pampas nae mair.

Sae fit shid I hae been daein instead o teerin in in the gairden. Na ye canna be in twa placies at eence an the correspondence hid tae tak second place till I got a fair begaik that ma hoose an contents insurance wis on its hinmaist day.

Fit’s the eese o a braw gairden fin ye hae neither hoose nor ha?

See ye neist wikkeyn.