Is it just me? Gardening and maths don’t mix
MY weary shoulders are throbbing. Biceps, calves and thighs each, in turn, emit a dull ache. This past week I have done more bending and twisting than a 1980s aerobics instructor. Thankfully, no Lycra was harmed – or worn – in the making of this column.
Rather, I have been getting my sleeves rolled up and gone out into the garden. Every spare moment (when the rain isn’t lashing down or the wind blowing a hoolie) is devoted to building raised beds in a tricky, neglected corner beneath the trees.
It has been one of those projects that seems straightforward enough yet, every so often, throws up a gargantuan problem requiring the mental agility, stamina and physical heft of undergoing several rounds of The Krypton Factor.
Previous owners had laid bark chippings between the gaps of a small, criss-crossing section of paths. The bark looked nice enough and helped keep down the weeds, but I fancied giving the space over to some wildflowers.
Each of the raised beds will be a mini meadow. It has been back-breaking work at times, lugging planks or trundling to and fro with a heavy wheelbarrow filled with compost. I hope the butterflies, bees and other pollinating creatures appreciate this Herculean effort.
The layout necessitates that the raised beds be built in an assortment of loosely shaped triangles. It did fleetingly cross my mind that this might present a long-awaited chance to finally use Pythagoras’ theorem.
Some readers, I’m sure, can relate to the tears and fraught handwringing of trying – and failing – to grasp the basic concept of this mathematical formula (something about the hypotenuse of a triangle) at school. My poor teacher. I recall being urged to persevere as
“one day it will come in handy”. Had that glorious dawn finally arrived? Not a hope. My attempts were such a muddle that I feared my melted brain would start dripping like molten metal. I also had to fight the urge to snap a pencil with my teeth.
Perhaps a better opportunity will present itself in another 30-odd years? By then, I suppose, we could all be living on Mars and I’ll suggest giving Pythagoras’ theorem a whirl when constructing raised beds in the gardening pod.
Or more likely I will throw open the gardening pod door and step out into the bleak, unforgiving terrain of the Red Planet and let the oxygen be sucked from my lungs. I know which option sounds preferable.
To be honest, I’m not sure Pythagoras’ theorem would have worked with these “triangles”. I’m not just saying that because at 43 I have even less of a grasp of it than I did at 13. The raised beds need to fit within the existing paths which, when laid some years ago, were clearly gauged by eye. Badly. Then again, it is possible whoever built them was simply rubbish with numbers and equations like me. Maybe, I have found a kindred spirit reaching a hand across time. That’s a comforting thought.