No, that’s not a typo in the title. Just the one bean this year.
Despite having planted about 15 plants.
It makes me laugh so much because its lonesome self is so very sad and pathetic and, well, funny. Who grows one broad bean?
At least the kids were able to have a few good jokes along the lines of “hey mum, I just ate the whole crop of broad beans” etc etc. Garden fail hilarity.
And the rest of my productive garden is going equally well.
I think this was once a lettuce. The other lettuces are desiccated beyond recognition. They are crispy my friends.
(Don’t you love the way the garden fork is stuck in there like I’m a serious gardener who actually tends my plot or something. HA).
Who knew cavaolo nero had pretty yellow flowers when it went to seed.
Well, I hope it is at least reassuring to other failed gardeners out there.
To be fair to myself, I’ve had productive years – and they are the ones when I have time to properly tend our postage-stamp-sized plot. This year our fortnight away fell during a dry spell and, well, that’s my excuse and I’m sticking to it.
I’m going to replant with hardy herbs in the next few weeks. Let’s see how long it takes me to kill those. Get set for potential world records.
All the leaf litter on the plot comes from the now ENORMOUS olive trees that are starting to fruit with what is gearing up to be the biggest crop we will ever have had. The trees have once again shot up so high that they desperately need lopping by an arborist. But we have decided to get one in once they’re in full fruit so we can pick the crop from the highest branches that we would otherwise not be able to reach.
And my secret to flourishing olives amid the rest of the sad, dying stalks? Well, I do sweet FA to them so your guess is as good as mine. Perhaps the roots are tapping into the sewage.