This time of year is all about life innit? New life, the creation of life, germination. It’s a time for seeds to be planted and lambs to be born. It’s a time for buds to shrug off the green sheaths that have housed them and burst forth with colour; it’s a time for chicks to batter their little beaks against the inside of their shell until they see the light of day; it’s when Jesus woke up after his nasty ordeal.
This Easter I’m even more aware of it all – as the proud new owner of an allotment and the unsuspecting new owner of a two year old cat called Kajagoogoo. The allotment has always been a dream of mine. The cat just appeared one weekend. I’m a dog person me, but you can’t turn an animal away can you? And you can’t seem to rename one either, no matter how hard you try. It’s a girl cat but surely ‘Limahl’ would have been preferable to Kajagoogoo whilst retaining the connection which I assume is something to do with the fact that she’s quite a timid little cat – ergo, “Too shy shy, hush hush, eye to eye.” Of course I don’t often use her full name. Except yesterday morning when I was greeted by an elephant sized poo in the middle of the dining room floor. Where did it all come from? At first I wondered if it was a little Easter prank. A little chocolate treat. Then I breathed in.
She only seems to do it when we are in the house alone. In other words when I’m the only mug around to scoop it up with my t shirt pulled over my nose and carry it at arms length out to the garden, screwing my nose up and muttering how disgusting it is and how if she was my cat she would never do that. She’s not my cat though. I don’t own a pet (except for the imaginary dog that comes everywhere with me.) No, I don’t own a pet and yet this Easter weekend I seem to be responsible for the little lives of two cats and two goldfish. It’s actually quite satisfying. I feel all nurturing and maternal. Not so much for the goldfish but it was nice having a cuddle with my neighbour’s cat, Mittens this morning. (They call him ‘Mittens’, his street name is ‘The Nailer’.)
And now with my allotment I am also responsible for the lives of 64 red onions, 58 musselburgh leeks, a cherry tree, a pear tree, a gooseberry bush, a strawberry patch, a raspberry bush and more beans, potatoes, and squash I could possibly consume between now and the next harvest. That doesn’t matter. I shall gift organic produce to my neighbours, my friends, my postman. Of course, I‘ll save a fortune on fruit and veg…and on tea bags (lemon balm or spearmint – just clip off the top leaves and dunk.)
Ah yes, spring is in the air and I’m feeling all earthy. Don’t stuff your faces with chocolate – get out there and get your hands in the soil. Dig. Plant. Grow. Nurture. It’s good and natural and life affirming.
Oh, no…don’t dig there. That’s where I buried the cat poo.