Even before we'd bought our finca on Mallorca, I'd imagined being able to go into the garden and pick a lemon from our own tree, for our evening gin and tonic. By the time we'd bought the place and begun to plan The Big Move, my imagination had turned that lemon tree into a small grove of citrus fruit trees.
We bought a pile of books about Mediterranean gardening, and The Boss - a bit of a whizz with a spreadsheet - created a multi-page document detailing what would be suitable to grow in the mallorquin climate, mindful of the water situation.
Our land is quite a reasonable size and comprises a rectangular field, a small rock and succulents garden (created by the previous owners), and a steep valley completely overgrown with wild olive and typical shrubs of the garrigue. To this date, I have still not 'walked' our entire land, not being deft enough with a machete to hack my way through the jungle. One day.
When we moved in, the rock garden needed only a serious session of weeding to transform it to its former glory - but the large field where we'd envisioned planting neat rows of vegetables and fruit trees was waist-high in weeds.
A mallorquin neighbour explained that these were asphodels, and very common in the valley. Sure enough, the field on the opposite side of our lane was also in a similar condition. What he perhaps didn't feel he could bring himself to tell us what that asphodels usually grow in very poor quality soil.
Wading into the sea of flowering weeds, The Boss made a decision. If only he had realised that it would take more than buying a brushcutter - the first of his new "boy's toys" - to rid us of that little lot . . .
Copyright Jan Edwards 2008
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