Lovely Husband needed to go to Bunnings on the weekend for plugs or washers or some-such. I kissed him good-bye at the door and trotted off to the garden centre, wandering amidst the wet, earthy racks of herbs and veggies and the long rows of pots and trellis and stakes. I picked up a handful of bulbs, luxuriously purple irises, to bury in the front yard as a surprise for spring. I had picked up a packet of garlic bulbs before I realised ...der... garlic bulbs. I could get a whole head of those for a buck at the supermarket.
I got these instead: cramped little punnets of broccoletti. Not sure what the difference is between these and broccolini, but it looked similar on the tag. Some bug has taken a little nibble from a few of them already, so I sprayed them with our noxious-smelling mix of soap, chili, onion and garlic.
I also picked up punnets of peas, probably out of season, but those little tendrils are irresistible. That brick wall was calling for something that climbs. So I have sweet peas starting to push up their little heads in the bed and, hopefully, these eating peas will cope in their pots.