It took me three goes after the message appeared on my place of work's yammer to persuade the person who knew about a place where there were allotments going to tell me where they were. By that time, of course, I was already emotionally invested.
She knew what she was doing, my allotment pusher. The question is, do I? or is this madness?
Everywhere green is expanding, unfurling, exploding, like mad new plans. It would give me somewhere to put that greengage I want so badly, a proper retreat, somewhere I could dig with reckless disregard of my soil structure, put down cardboard, recycle old junk into semi-usefulness.
Only a germ at the moment. I might see it and hate it. But just maybe...
She knew what she was doing, my allotment pusher. The question is, do I? or is this madness?
Everywhere green is expanding, unfurling, exploding, like mad new plans. It would give me somewhere to put that greengage I want so badly, a proper retreat, somewhere I could dig with reckless disregard of my soil structure, put down cardboard, recycle old junk into semi-usefulness.
Only a germ at the moment. I might see it and hate it. But just maybe...
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