Seedbomb, seedbomb, you’re my seedbomb

You can give it to me when I need to bomb along
Seedbomb seedbomb you’re my seedbomb
And baby you can grow me on

Let’s sing along, all together now…. tee hee.

My lovely daughter Rhiannon Cara reminded me this weekend that I wanted to call her either “Fang” or “Blind lemon melon”, until sense and Fleetwood Mac prevailed.

Anyhoo we have just spent a pleasant afternoon throwing away her Christmas present to me, three hand grenade shaped clay seed bombs (see exhibit 1 below M’Lud):

Seed bombs

The clay bombs are filled with flower seeds and rye grass and are designed to be thrown into areas needing some colour – perfect guerilla gardening tools. They are deployed with aplomb:

Guerilla Gardener number 1

The result is shattered clay which will dissolve as soon as there is rain and a great spreading of seeds:

I’ll keep you posted as (hopefully) the seeds germinate and this little derelict spot gets lively! Gizmo looked on in disgust from a tree as this was all rather interrupting his afternoon gallop:


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