I have just noticed that the lovage roots I transplanted a few weeks ago have sprouted. I am so ridiculously excited by this. I didn’t want to lose the lovage, even it rampages a bit, and I can never use it up fast enough, given that the flavour is so dominant, but I thought my cavalier treatment of it had probably been a bit too much. But, no, I’ve just noticed it sprouting bravely in the sunshine while I was inspecting the compost bins for signs of rodent activity. This is tremendously exciting. Next, I need to transplant the volunteer fennel seedling lurking in a pot, and I also need to prune the fig tree, which is all over the place. I treated myself to a new pair of secateurs for my birthday: Felco No.2, which are so far everything they’ve been cracked up to be. The fig tree will be an excellent work-out for them.
Meanwhile, the mice seem to have finished bivouacking in the compost bin (although something is still throwing vegetable peelings around after dark – peculiarly muscular slugs training for the annual peeling-tossing championships?), while the rodent that was lurking in the cellar has gone mysteriously quiet after stashing at least six large packets of mouse poison and definitely snacking on a seventh. So far there is no smell of decaying flesh so I assume it has either mummified quietly in a corner or else was commuting in from elsewhere. And the cats have stopping bringing in little corpses (we’ll draw a veil over the incident involving the live ratling in the bed at 10 p.m.).
Time, then, to sow seeds, I guess.