heritage

I have read some lovely posts recently by people celebrating the significant others – mostly mothers and grandmothers – who taught them to knit.  Fridica and Karie in particular got me thinking about how much we owe the people who pass on to us the skills we often take for granted. My mum was a fantastic knitter until the evil arthritis got her hands and some day I may post about the stunning aran sweaters she made for everyone in the family. However, the best thing my mum handed on to me was compost-making.

Mum was years ahead of her time. She was gardening organically well before Pat and Tony Archer. She was an environmentalist probably before the word was invented. She has ensured that my sister and I are physically incapable of putting even a sliver of potato peel in a regular bin. Yet for all that, I can never remember her barking instructions about where to throw things away: it was just something you knew in our house.

Thanks to my mum, I now garden completely successfully on heavy clay, something that would be impossible if I didn’t have a regular supply of rich home-made compost. And even though I have seen this transformation over and over again, I still get a thrill from knowing that this

will one day turn into this: