A lot of people will probably find it hard to understand the pleasure I derive from buying vegetable seeds.
The process evokes....
... visions of summer salads accompanied by your favourite chilled white wine sipped in the lingering dusk of midsummer.
...visions of voluptuous autumn harvests turned into hearty meals washed down by a luscious, stronger than I realised, red that induces a grinning stupor.
...visions of reassuringly sturdy winter vegetables ...parsnips, kale, leeks...hot, aromatic, freshly cooked, and a rib of beef anointed with mustard and horse radish...preceded, perhaps, by a glass of vintage port [sorry I'm starting to sound like an alcoholic!].
...the benign vibes of old friends present or not.
...and that sense of old the wise old country folk that have lived on this land over the centuries who left no record but can be felt in the rich soil of my allotment, their traces hinted at by shards of medieval pots, fragments of clay pipes and pieces of blue willow pattern crockery...
The process evokes....
... visions of summer salads accompanied by your favourite chilled white wine sipped in the lingering dusk of midsummer.
...visions of voluptuous autumn harvests turned into hearty meals washed down by a luscious, stronger than I realised, red that induces a grinning stupor.
...visions of reassuringly sturdy winter vegetables ...parsnips, kale, leeks...hot, aromatic, freshly cooked, and a rib of beef anointed with mustard and horse radish...preceded, perhaps, by a glass of vintage port [sorry I'm starting to sound like an alcoholic!].
...the benign vibes of old friends present or not.
...and that sense of old the wise old country folk that have lived on this land over the centuries who left no record but can be felt in the rich soil of my allotment, their traces hinted at by shards of medieval pots, fragments of clay pipes and pieces of blue willow pattern crockery...
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