Calm before the storm

I think I’ve just wasted some money. We don’t have a greenhouse, and I spent most of last summer desperately wishing for one, as my tomatoes sat growing, still green, into September. I have tried to convince ‘himself’ that a greenhouse needs to go to the top of the priorities, but unfortunately he didn’t agree. (He said something about making sure the new bathroom was fitted, or something. Pah!)

So, I decided to invest in a temporary measure – a plastic greenhouse. There are plenty out there, with many different sizes and structures, but I went for one closest to what an actual greenhouse would be like; a few metres square with a sloped roof. It came with shelving and was perfect for the few bits I wanted to do to ensure a longer growing season.

As I placed the order online, I did have a slight twinge. Vague memories of my parents’ polytunnel disasters started to surface, but I reassured myself with the thought that they had lived half way up a mountain, where gales abounded. And this was a much smaller structure. It would be fine. (Even my subconscious didn’t sound that convincing, I know.)

It arrived, I put it up, after working out the various joints, and pegged it down, similarly to a tent. This can only go well, right?

It stood there, proud, and warm, for a few weeks, until I decided it was time to actually use it. I got out my squash seeds, basil seeds and onion seeds (thanks for that challenge mother, no onion sets here!) Carefully labelled, they were placed in the yummy warm greenhouse. Excellent job, I congratulated myself.

Of course, this was the day before the night of the worst storms we have had so far this year. Brilliant. The greenhouse was scattered in its pieces across the garden, as were the seeds. If I find a squash growing in my lawn I will be cross. Although I can’t guarantee I wouldn’t leave it there – better than no squash, I guess. We did recover the bits from round the lawn. Worst treasure hunt ever. I haven’t brought myself to put the greenhouse back up yet, as I’m now concerned about every stiff breeze.

Maybe one day soon.

No doubt just before the next storm.

Timing, after all, is everything.
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