Beds, Borders and Rag Bone

As I compose this blog I hear the ringing of the handbell of the 'Rag and Bone Man'.  He is announcing his presence on the avenue and that of his mate who is driving a white high-sided truck at roughly five miles an hour.  They are on the lookout for stuff left out on drives: metal, old sofas, carpets, cushions....

So am I.  I don't have a truck - just a plastic box on trolley wheels put together by my husband.  It is large enough for me to balance planks, rugs, bits and pieces that householders have left out.  (It is wise to ask permission first.)

So off to the plot yesterday to put in a small back border along the hedge line to divide a composting and wildlife area - brambles, nettles, bindweed, russian vine, turf stacks - from the michaelmas daisies (thank you, G, for giving us your spare roots).

I am saving my nice recycled sides from a defunct sofa bed for another day.  I scrambled towards the rear of one of our heaps.  Pallets and planks were beginning to rot down there, but there were enough servicable bits to put in a rustic edge at the back of the bed.  Now I can see what is what.  Daisies start here.  Nettles will no doubt edge their way under and across the border, as they do.  This is, after all, an allotment, not arable acreage.

Grubs tunnel into the decaying wood.  The turf stacks that I have piled upside down after we enlarged our borders on the neighbouring plot will break down and rot and turn into soil.  My husband is burying our compostable food waste in trenches where we will later plant our runner beans.

Waste not, want not.