No, not the poem, just a judgement on the remains of our old Butterfly Garden. We had a look while we were visiting the farm on Friday to visit Men in Sheds.
There is nobody in the centre or kitchen anymore, as things didn’t work out. This is a shame as they did a lot of work and it has presumably cost them a lot of money. It may still be costing them money if they signed a lease.
Sadly, without our (free) help, the farm appears unable to maintain the place.
Standing and looking at the place we spent five years working you half expect a tumbleweed to roll past, or a loose door to creak in the wind.
The willow work is out of control, the buddleias are going mad and the log xylophone has been torn out.
In other beds the shasta daisies, the borage and the oregano have all been ripped out.
As a result we didn’t see many as many pollinators as we should have been and there were no brown butterflies, which used to love the oregano.
It’s seven months since we had to close down (or were evicted, to be more accurate) and the negative feelings are gradually fading as we move other things.
It’s also time to re-evaluate the title and content of the blog, as it’s clearly no longer the story of a Nottinghamshire Care Farm. I’ve been thinking of this for a while, and putting it off as it seems so final.