Nothing to do

For the first time since I started my first full gardening year I seem to have nothing to do. Oh, there's the odd bit of weeding now and then and the daily watering in the greenhouse, but all the big jobs have been done now.

After the spring flurry of potting, seeding, repotting, encouraging, eventual planting out and subsequent nurturing, August brings time to sit and contemplate and, of course, eat.

Last night I feasted on home grown potatoes and broad beans. Tonight I'll be stuffing a huge marrow and roasting it alongside beetroot and swede, flavoured with my own garlic.

The ponds have produced a bumper crop of froglets, the tomatoes are starting to ripen, the monarda are keeping the bees in buzzy happiness and quite simply, for now, the garden no longer needs me.

If I was to ask, I think it would reply, "Look, I know what to do, I've been doing it for years. Just let me get on with it. OK?"

How can I argue with that?