I had thought it was only a week since I planted the sprouted supermarket garlic, but I tell a little lie – that was nine days ago, not a mere week of seven. And haven't they belted along!
The thing that caught my eye as I stepped out into the garden
this morning was the uniform rate of growth, according to
the amount of sunshine received. Closest to the camera is the
relative runt of the litter, which goes into afternoon shade
earlier than the others. And furthest away is the tallest, the
last to lose the afternoon sun.
Some years ago, as we were doing some kind of gardening
project for the magazine, photographer Brent Wilson, himself
a dab hand in the garden, said "A dead stick would grow in this
soil." And I think he's right. It is good, fertile, loamy stuff,
clay which has been improved upon by successive gardeners
living here. No doubt the warm sunshine, regular watering and
a side dressing of Dynamic Lifter (chicken poo) have helped,
but these garlic cloves seem to have a real zest for living.