A Morning with Iris: Passing on the Gardening Bug
Hang on a minute, because if you'd told me five or six years back that my youngest would be up the plot before her own father on a day off school, I'd have laughed you clean out of the shed. This is a girl who, not that many summers ago, would only come up under protest, arms folded, wellies on the wrong feet half the time out of pure principle, moaning about the smell of the manure heap loud enough for old Pat two plots down to hear and chuckle at. And now here she is, first through the gate, camera out, quietly getting on with it before I've even had a proper mouthful of tea. I wanted to write a bit about that journey this week, because I reckon there's something in it for anyone trying to get a child, grandchild, or young person of any sort hooked on growing their own. It didn't happen because I sat her down and lectured her about the virtues of home-grown veg, and thank goodness for that, because that would have put her off for life. It happened almost by accide...
