English version of the original Actifit report by @amico.sports, published in Italian.
A day of small things: postcard fog, cabbages growing up (and someone tasting them before me), hens turning their backs on me and a plate of octopus spaghetti. Grab a coffee. โ๐
๐ซ๏ธ A sea of fog (without the sea)
The valley has vanished under the fog: the mountains pop out on the horizon like islands and, among the trees, a farmhouse plays the lighthouse. A sea of clouds in the middle of the Marche countryside: all that's missing is the ferry, but I'll make my own coffee. ๐๏ธ
๐ฅฌ Cabbages under the straw
Then the inspection round of the garden, natural-farming style: no hoe, plenty of straw mulch. The little plants of the cabbage family (cabbage, broccoli, cauliflower? At this stage they're close cousins and nobody wears a name tag) grow among the straw like princes in a haystack. ๐
One of them, though, has holey leaves: some uninvited guest opened the buffet before me. Snails, caterpillars, other diners? I'm not investigating. I only asked them to leave me a few leaves: no answer. ๐
 A young plant among the straw |
 This one grew well, leaves wide open |
 And this one already had a taster |
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๐ Leaves, acorns and hens from behind
Autumn has set the table in the yard: grass, dry leaves and a carpet of acorns. My ladies were the first to find out and they are scratching around as if at a themed buffet, with the air of someone who booked the best table. ๐
Meanwhile the white team (yes, the mischievous ones from the white-vs-red episode) decided to turn their backs on me: three hens marching towards the horizon, tails up, no goodbye. Where are they going? No idea, their agenda is fuller than mine. The red team, at the far right, huddles together and pretends not to know them. ๐
 A red hen strolling over a carpet of acorns |
 The red hen pecks, the white ones pretend nothing's happening |
 The white team from behind: left without saying where |
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๐ At the table: octopus spaghetti
To close in style: octopus spaghetti with parsley and a touch of chilli, caught still in the pan, with a can of borlotti beans waiting for its turn in the background. The octopus, eight tentacles and zero chance of appeal, put up no resistance. ๐
Your turn: in your garden, who tastes the cabbages before you: snails, caterpillars or hens? And between white and red, which team are you rooting for? ๐
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