By / 6th June, 2014 / Homegrown / Off

Pondenhall_planting_potatoes2
When I was about 38 I read a magazine article that claimed everyone past the age of 40 got interested in gardening. Everyone. Not me, mate, I thought. I will never be interested in gardening, and that is a fact.

I still can’t claim to be interested in herbaceous borders or hardy perennials, but I must admit I have been doing a bit of daydreaming recently about growing vegetables. To the point where I’m actually doing something about it. Mainly because they are free food. It just makes good economic sense that if you have a spare patch of soil, you could be raising things in it to feed your family at next to no cost. Plus I remember the glorious smell of my grandfather’s homegrown tomatoes and runner beans. And maybe old age is catching up with me after all…

Pondenhall_planting_potatoesSo now the thinking has finally converted into some real action. I bought two packets of seed potatoes yesterday, and today I actually found a spade, got myself out to the garden, dug up a long patch of flowerbed, and planted them, 20cm apart, as the instructions told said I should. According to the packet I’m right at the end of the time for planting, but fingers crossed they’ll still take.

I’ve chosen potatoes for my first foray into vegetable gardening purely because so many people have told me they are idiotproof – anyone can grow them. And planting them certainly seemed straightforward. I’ll let you know how they go on.

As an added bonus, while I was out there I discovered a lavish crop of wild garlic, which is definitely something I’m interested in using in the kitchen. My 14-year-old daughter recently ate at the luxurious Cliffemount Hotel, in Runswick Bay, North Yorkshire, while she was out for the day with her friend Tilly – and ordered a soup she raved about for days afterwards – spinach and wild garlic.

I have spinach. Now I have wild garlic. Watch this space…

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