The Good Life

Whilst on our way to our walk to Letheringsett, B and I diverted to our local allotment.  I'm not really a gardener, but even I can sense that there is something very special about allotments.  Maybe the contentedness of the gardeners pervades the air, or it's the evidence of the care and nurturing that takes place, or maybe I just enjoy the higgeldy-piggeldyness of all the sheds, enclosures, netting, canes etc. but I think it's probably the joy of seeing things growing, which must be especially satisfying if they end up on the dinner table.

I wish I could catch the gardening bug!