Frankly, less than nothing has happened on the patch. I use that cliche correctly; I'm having doubts (if I was a catholic they would be deemed good doubts) about the grand and promised vegetable patch.
I'm conflicted between the lure of the ripe purple beauty of an aubergine and the continuous attention and effort required to grow the thing.
The doubts began on Monday (much like Graham Greene's 'Whisky Priest' in The Power and The Glory it began with a struggle)...I was struggling hopelessly in the afternoon in hay and sodden earth with a stubborn sprinkler when Emily came to my rescue, adjusted the faucet, fixed the hose pipe, put the horrid thing in the most suitable position, and then said "Do you really want to do this?"
It really penetrated my thick pumpkin when we were driving home and Emily said "I fixed it wearing heels - you hate getting your hands dirty and have a breakdown if you get mud on your shoes". Don't you just hate it when the truth is punched into your 'that's-not-me' way of thinking?
So, born-on-concrete Londoner that I am and on wise advice I'm now leaning towards a more stable, less hands-on, solution to The Small Green Patch.
Perhaps something like this - but incorporating plants that withstand the brutal difference between summer and winter in Eastern Pennsylvania - the late Derek Jarman's garden in Dungeness, Kent, in England (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Derek_Jarman).
Mr. Jarman had a decent eye.
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