This is the small bed in the greenhouse that I am trying to get usable for early seeds. Two days ago, when I removed bags and rakes and plant pots from here, then the substrate of garden equipment that my predecessor had left, I found a flimsy layer of powdery soil with a few tenacious weeds trying to struggle through. (A bit like the bed on the left that I haven't started on yet.) This morning I barrowed sieved compost from the heap and started digging it in.
Last June my mum and I dug a staggering quantity of ironmongery out of my new garden. Over the weeks there was more and more and in August I registered as a scrap metal dealer. I really didn't expect the same in the greenhouse soil but on this bit of A4 are the screws and nails I dug out of just this small bed this morning. A little of the non-metal rubbish that has surfaced today (china, glass, wood, and the teabags that blighted my own composting until I realised two years ago (text here) that they do not biodegrade) is in the 10cm-high round pot to the left. There is more to extract before I put any seeds in.
My predecessors were clearly keen gardeners and I'll forgive them the indestructible teabags but why would they fill their garden with all the other rubbish?