61 / My Little Helpers

For F*ture's Sake!

Welcome to FFS! A half-assed attempt to live sanely on planet earth.


Reading time: 2 minutes

This post almost went unwritten. With schools shut — again! — and the homeschooling hellscape back on the kitchen table; this week, I’d hardly the energy, nor inclination to write.

It gets worse!

At the weekend, the kids and I pulled up the twelve beetroots we'd planted in October.

We were excited to meet these subterranean globes. Along with their Nana, we'd nurtured them from seeds for the past three months.

Their leafy plumage promised a generous bounty, but a toddler’s tug really dished the dirt. A dozen filthy contortions dangled from my youngest’s outstretched arms. It was the mother of all letdowns. They were each, hardly the size of a twisted kumquat. 

To add insult to injury, I had to buy proper ones; to have enough for dinner. The ultimate indignity for a wannabe homesteader.

Bite-sized gardening lesson:

Turns out, beetroot needs to be harvested, not sewn, in October. Facepalm! I made a chart so as to be better prepared this year:

Elsewhere in the garden, I also dug a hole; three feet deep to be precise. It’s the foundation for a fencing post I repaired on the garden's boundary line.

Of course, my little helpers were on hand to hinder me. There's a time and place to dig a hole to China; but at that moment, it was about to piss rain and I needed to get the job done.

For fits and giggles, and with my back turned, Reuben - the four year old - clambered into the hole, partially refilling it with muck he raked in on the way down. For good measure, he buried himself ankle deep; and wearing his new shoes to boot!

He delighted in himself. I didn't.

"Come on lads, out you get! You've plenty of time to dig a hole to the other side of the world. It'll be ten years before Fiji's underwater!"

My words went in one ear and out the other. As did I — I went swiftly in the back door and out the front. I needed a run to clear the head.

It’s been a long week.

- S