All quiet on the north-facing gardening front

The after work gardener, Thursday 2 June.

Today I breathed a huge sigh of relief.  The wicked spell that had been cast over my vegetable rearing powers by a malicious and evil aphid has been lifted, and following this evening's 8pm plant inspection I am very proud to report that since last weekend there have been no more fatalities on the north-facing gardening front.  However, if you could all join me in silent prayer for my very sick courgette plant - snapped in two by freak high winds - it would be very much appreciated.

From reading Pippa Greenwood's crushing, but undoubtedly true words, in her Gardeners' World blog discussing dishevelled courgettes, I fear the worst for my little Squash related friend. Pippa explains how high winds and lack of rain can be one of the courgette's worst enemies.  However, having lasted in its present state since Saturday, and having also bravely squeezed out another little side shoot - albeit sadly shedding all other leaves - I am sure if we all wish hard enough, the courgette might just make it through the weekend and off the critical list.

I also want to take a moment to pay final tribute to my sacrificial strawberry. Today I have been discovering that everything has its role in the garden - rampant weeds that grow like triffids, once pulled up, have their part to play in fuelling the compost heap - and likewise, this sad little strawberry played her part, by offering up her red and fruity life in sacrifice to save her sugary sisters.

The major success of my garden so far has been my harvest of strawberries, and only this evening in need of a desperate post-swim sugar fix, I feasted on 4 ready and ripe relatives of my sacrificial strawberry, reminding me that withstanding my many failures - success still tastes sweet.  Miss Marples amongst you will be better at diagnosing how she met her grisly end,  but I am guessing that joining the aphids, the snails and the cat, is our new friend the caterpillar - or is it a slug?

After this evening's 8pm plant inspection, I watered the garden, and in one of my many attempts to remain environmentally friendly, I have been shunning the hose in favour of the watering-can.  I lose count of the amount of times I trudge back and forth to the kitchen tap in my thirst quenching duty, but judging by the collection of muddy footprints on the floor, I'd say more than 10.  I have flirted with the idea of a water butt to prevent future filthy floors, but cursed by a drought of appropriate gutterpiping, I still hold out hope for a  birthday treat of an outside tap.

Now, whilst recovering from my 30 minute watering-can workout, I had a quick check on my homemade nettle nitrogen plant food - quietly steeping in a bucket of water. Having secretly gathered the nettles for this brew from my local waste ground (no nettles in my neat little garden) I was smugly pleased to experience only one sting during the process.  Alas, one day later, and I am constantly reminded of my now rather prolific end-of-finger nettle-burn by my tingling typing on the keyboard.

Nevertheless, there is a silver lining to my stinging story.  A previous incident with a pair of secateurs, using these implements to do a job for which they were not designed - to trim the edge of my lawn - left me with a distinct lack of feeling in the end of one digit.  However, following my nettle harvesting, I am pleased to report that I now have full tingling feeling in the end of all fingers.  May my nettle feed bring equal replenishment to the plants of my garden.