The Bulb Wars

Readers of this blog probably imagine me living in a sort of bucolic (if somewhat damp) paradise peopled by gentle country folk raising pints in the pub and dancing picturesquely(?) around a maypole. Well let me tell you, out here in Exmoor it is 'gardening red in tooth and claw'. Oh yes. Here I am trying to develop another little revenue stream by dint of producing cut flowers and potted plants for next years market and suddenly it's The Bulb Wars! ]

The outbreak of hostilities was quiet and understated at the beginning. Propped up against the bar on 'my stool' I happened to mention to Keith (friend, neighbour and landlord of hostelry next door) that I had spent an entire day planting bulbs of various descriptions. He commiserated with the physical hardship I had suffered and mentioned that he was planning to plant a few of his own. He then refilled my glass and we moved onto other things.

Over the following days and weeks I noticed increasing numbers of bulbs in their little net bags accumulating at the back of the pub. On my occasional visits (must support local business after all) Keith would casually enquire as to how many bulbs I had now planted. On hearing my response was it only in my imagination that a tiny cloud flitted across his usually sunny brow?  More bags of bulbs appeared at the back door of the pub. Slowly it dawned on me that every time there was a break in the clouds and I rushed out to shove another few bulbs into the cold and sodden ground... there he was, bulb planter in hand. So! That's the way of it, is it? Young Keith has issued a challenge which cannot go ignored!

This morning I planted allium and some of those gorgeous little gladioli. Naturally my nemasis was out there too.  There was a brief lull in activity whilst we pontificated on the preponderance of rocks as opposed to soil around here but then we got back to the serious business of outdoing each other. I am glad to say he went in long before me. His excuse, presumably, that he has a pub to run. He is, quite obviously, overconfident, possibly believing that the depradations wrought by my dogs and chickens will leave him victorious come spring. Foolish boy, does he not realise the fire power of goat pooh?

Oh yes, he may have fenced in chickens and a dog free zone,but I have mountains of well rotted manure which oozes nutrients, provides organic matter to a soil composed mostly of rock of varying sizes and generally does good work in the growing department. Come spring I confidently predict a garden bursting with colour and scent, gladdening the eye and possible making a tiny contribution to the holding finances.

Of course, there is still the significant lack of sunshine and the overabundance of precipitation to contend with, but that applies to both sides of the fence..... Just wait until spring young Keith, as one of my birthday cards said, 'Age and Treachery will triumph over Youth and Skill!'