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Our England is a garden, and such gardens are not made
By singing-'Oh how beautiful!" and sitting in the shade,
While better men than we go out and start their working lives
At grubbing weeds from gravel paths with broken dinner-knives. ~ Rudyard Kipling
<Has just eaten radish leaves> That was a joke, right?
I ate a small, slightly hairy leaf. It was foul. I ate a seed leaf. It was slightly less foul.
Our England is a garden, and such gardens are not made
By singing-'Oh how beautiful!" and sitting in the shade,
While better men than we go out and start their working lives
At grubbing weeds from gravel paths with broken dinner-knives. ~ Rudyard Kipling
Ahh...that'll be it then! I wouldn't use spinach (Indian saag dishes excepted), or lettuce, or any other green leafy stuff really. It's all rabbit food.
Our England is a garden, and such gardens are not made
By singing-'Oh how beautiful!" and sitting in the shade,
While better men than we go out and start their working lives
At grubbing weeds from gravel paths with broken dinner-knives. ~ Rudyard Kipling
Well, until you've tried eating your own green stuff, it does all taste watery I agree. Get some rocket, spinch and mixed leaves going in, in a month you'll be able to pick a lovely peppery salad!
I've got some rocket seeds I can send your way, and some mixed salad if you'd like to try 'em before splashing out?
I've got some rocket seeds I can send your way, and some mixed salad if you'd like to try 'em before splashing out?
Very thoughtful, but no thanks. I really don't eat them, and I've no more space! I did consider growing them as sacrificial slug bait though...
Our England is a garden, and such gardens are not made
By singing-'Oh how beautiful!" and sitting in the shade,
While better men than we go out and start their working lives
At grubbing weeds from gravel paths with broken dinner-knives. ~ Rudyard Kipling
Our England is a garden, and such gardens are not made
By singing-'Oh how beautiful!" and sitting in the shade,
While better men than we go out and start their working lives
At grubbing weeds from gravel paths with broken dinner-knives. ~ Rudyard Kipling
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