Ffynnongroyw progress

Two days gardening after each other? Is there a better way to spend ones springtime?

Today we planted a small willow coppice (about 80 whips went in) the hedge went in last week.  That should give us enough willow for building structures and craft work in years to come, and soak up plenty of the boggy ground!!

On the dry patch the raised bed is coming along nicely – despite there being a small road’s worth of tarmac which had been dumped many years ago.  The beans are itching to be out of their pots, but they will have to wait a week or so!!


I know it’s lent, but a whole morning spent on hands and knees in a field near Kinmel bay is a bit much even for Lent. Coppicing willow however is a much better way to spend one’s time. These lovely bundles are destined for the community garden at Ffynnongroyw…

You got up at what time?

This time two weeks ago I was on a train near Carlisle. Not an inspiring place to be, but on the way to a far better place… Glasgow , after that Oban (for a night) and eventually later the next day to Iona.

Getting up at stupid o’clock to catch the early train to Crewe was not my idea of fun, neither was lugging 150 willow whips on a trolley 2 miles through Cardiff at 3.30am but these things had to be endured for the sake of the students who would be on Iona.

Many amusing conversations later, (mainly around the willow trolley!) I arrived in Oban, met up with old friends and settled into the quiet life. You may not think of Oban as quiet, a busy harbour and port to the Hebridean islands, but the quiet life it most certainly is. Time runs at a different pace there, the further out to sea you go the slower it gets and the slow pace of island life infects the port.

Two American tourists found out to their amazement once when boarding a bus on Mull that there really is no need to hurry and certainly no need to fret! They had put their rather sumptuous cases at the back of the bus where the driver was loading them into the belly of the elderly coach and were standing watching them earnestly as the driver loaded other boxes and bags. ‘Yer in Scotlan noo, nay need tae bother bout tha, you think folk ar gonnnae wan yer bags?’ came the brusque island voice admonishing the tourists. I still wonder if they ever got the point!