Don’t Panic!

 

It’s May – without any even remotely close competition the best month of the year. Everything’s starting to look gorgeous, each day something new appears and yet those long, sunny, flowery evenings are all still to come. As Monty Don once wrote, “When I die I’m going to May”. Sigh…

So why am I feeling so rubbish? My stomach’s in knots and every ten minutes I’m looking at my calendar of things to do just to confirm to myself that, yes, I am so far behind that there’s no real point going on. (With the flowers, that is – don’t worry, I’m not about to top myself.)

The new seedlings need to be potted on while those I sowed last autumn are on the patio wondering why they’re still in a small plastic pot when they’ve heard talk of a distant land where crumbly, unplanted compost stretches further than the eye can see…

My main priority at the moment though is the grass, at both the field and the allotment, which desperately needs cutting before the dandelions start chucking their seeds hither and thither in that wonder-of-nature way that seemed so miraculous when I learnt about it in school but is now, frankly, a pain in the arse. (And how come the crows, still merrily munching their way through the Honesty, aren’t remotely interested in the dandelion flowers?) Being a weedy townie I, natch, only have a plastic, electric Flymo-jobbie. I need a petrol mower, powerful enough to tackle the rough ground but lightweight enough for me to lift in and out of the van.  And then, of course, there’s starting it – what if I’m too weedy to pull the starting string thingy hard enough?

These are the things that keep me awake at night! (Yes, really.) Still, as Uncle George - maybe not as eloquent as Monty, but just as wise - says, everything catches up in May.

Let’s hope that includes me.