Setting up a Children's Gardening Club

 Why did she ask me? Well, I’d been her gardener for over a year and she must have thought I was doing something right by turning her garden into a place she liked.  I said ‘yes’ immediately, before even seeing what was to be done – there you go, yet again my impulsive streak had landed me into giving up every Saturday afternoon to run what is now our gardening club.

I wondered how I was going to tackle this – I’ve never done anything like it before and I needed to find out if anyone else had done something similar. Browsing a well-known book site, I came across Dominic Murphy’s The Playground Potting Shed. There are lots of hints and tips, but the main difference is that this gardening club isn’t school based, so I wondered how it was going to work out. I’ve since come to the conclusion that it’s trial and error for each and every such venture – so remember that if you have any inclination to have a go yourself.

I was driven over to see the site and, to my surprise, it wasn’t that bad.A path had recently been laid from the rector’s house to the gate and the land either side of it was an eyesore. Ok, so the soil wasn’t up to much – full of clay and rubble that the builders had left behind – but I could see it had massive potential. I was so enthusiastic that I had to reign myself in a bit in case Linda thought I was a hysterical blonde – a side of me she hadn’t seen before. I was like a kid in a sweetshop, a pig in…woops, watch it…

There was no topsoil to be seen, so I suggested that we first incorporate some compost or get some topsoil to make it more friable. The main bed was south facing, with an eight foot white-washed wall behind it – and the opposite bed had been filled in with gravel – great for raised beds and a work area – was situated against the church hall. The builders were still on site and the church committee thought it would be a good idea to get them to dig the beds out. So did I – made a change for someone else to do it. I agreed to draw scaled plans for the builders to follow after the paid gardener had said how long the south bed could be (he didn’t want to get involved) and wanted a ‘tidy area’ incorporated. You know what THAT means don’t you? – an area where he could chuck things UNTIDILY. Hurrumph! We all know that a spare room inevitably ends up as the ‘junk room’.

After some wrangling with them [the builders] over the price (I’ve already penned that in my journal so I won’t go over old ground…sorry couldn’t resist that!) we now finally have what are six perfectly set out beds with access paths between them.

Now for the reality of what I had taken on. I was so furious with the contractors for wiping out the entire budget, and more besides, I blurted out that the church could have two hours of my time every Saturday to get things going. ‘Get things going’ has now turned into ‘Gaynor’s in charge!’ Oh those words…I forced my mouth into a smile to cover up my frozen terror underneath, when Linda announced that to all the parents and children who’d turned up for the first time.

The opening day started out a beautiful spring-like day – warm sunshine, blue sky and air smelling fresh. I said started out spring-like. By noon it was grey, cold and absolutely chucking it down. I’d asked the local television weatherman for a promise of fine weather, but due to the lack of any response from him he obviously felt that it was a promise too far.

I arrived at the garden to meet Linda, With her was five-year-old Dafydd – a typical boy who ran manically all over the neat would-be veg plots and immediately started digging holes. Well, I knew it wouldn’t stay neat – it is a children’s garden after all. Another little girl, Charlotte, arrived full of enthusiasm and we decided to make a start. First, we planted a long row of brightly coloured primroses along the length of the path. I know kids love colourful things so I’d bought in sixty of them – enough for one each to plant should they all turn up. Well, you never know... Four more children turned up and it wasn’t long before Dafydd got bored of planting the flowers and started digging a massive hole in the centre of one of the six beds.

‘Why do girls always pick PINK?’ he shouted, as Charlotte chose a pink primrose.

He then proceeded to dirty his hands and left his paw prints on the newly painted white wall of the church hall.

‘Don’t do that Dafydd!’ Linda shrieked, ‘the reverend won’t like it!’

I suspect we will hear a lot more of ‘Don’t do that Dafydd!’ - and he will also be lots of fun.

He was getting bored and the others had finished planting the primroses. It’s slightly early to plant potatoes, late March would be better, but needs must. I’d brought along some ‘first earlies’ – six ‘Swift’ and four ‘Rocket’. They all wanted to plant a ‘big’ potato – lucky there were six big ones. They each dug a hole six inches deep (that’s about 16 cms in new money) and six inches apart so there’d be room enough to grow.

Finally, the last job was Dafydd’s. He was to dig the biggest hole he could so we could plant Rhubarb. He can dig for Wales that boy! He reminded me of a little Jack Russell dog digging and scraping the soil to bury his bone – soil going everywhere…over the wall, up in the air and on the path. We forgot to take a brush – and there was a LOT of mess on the path. Ooerr, the paid gardener for the rest of the grounds will have a hissy fit if he sees that! Luckily for us, the reverend came out and brushed it up for us and brought cans of water with her to swill it down.

By now there was nothing else do and we were cold and soaked through. Funny though, why is it kids don’t notice the cold and wet? We called Dafydd to leave the worm alone now, to which he was giving a ‘shower’ underneath the down-pipe, and to come and have some chocolate fingers and some squash. He ran into the hall – wellies still on, caked with thick wet mud…never a dull moment!

If you’re interested to see how we’re getting on, you can read more in my journal.