I’m not one of nature's rebels. The sad truth is I make Gloria Hunniford look like a wild child.
I’ve always been this way. I can still remember spending two hours hiding under my brother’s bed in tears so shamed was I at taking an After Eight mint without asking permission first (pretty crazy behaviour, I think you’ll agree – not only theft but also trespassing on a sibling’s territory).
So, you can imagine my trepidation at the idea of making bombs with the kids in the kitchen. Before MI5 decide to make a surprise visit to my sleepy Cambridgeshire village, I should probably clarify that these were seed bombs. I’d been sent a packet of this from Hen & Hammock. To be honest, I rarely review anything on the site but I rather like the stuff H&H sell and, quite frankly, it’s something to do with the kids inside (which is becoming quite important given the recent deluge).
So what did I think?
Well, first, the packaging is far too tasteful for kids. This sat on the kitchen counter for a couple of weeks without any of my three children saying “What’s that?, No, not that, that! Is it for us? Is it a present? Can we eat it? Can we open it? Let us open it! We want to open it NOW!”.
However, it has the world ‘bomb’ on it, which does give it a certain appeal to the destructive nature of most kids, plus, the chance to get messy. You empty the clay pellets and compost mix into a bowl, sprinkle on the seeds and add water. Then it’s simply a case of moulding your mix into small balls ready for hurling, and finally….
So, OK, that ‘…’ may have gone on for some time. The truth is I’m rather easily distracted and a little forgetful. Having first left the ‘bombs’ overnight to dry, I put them into an old margarine tub (just to keep them safe) and then promptly forgot all about them. It doesn’t help that, in our house, old margarine tubs are used for pretty much keeping anything in – screws, beads, bolognaise sauce, Sylvanian accessories – in fact almost anything except margarine, so it kind of blended into the background.
Two weeks later I opened it, found half the seeds had germinated, felt guilty and, rather than doing anything about it, just put the lid back on (it was the After Eight incident all over again, except without the marathon blubbing session).
Another week went by and I saw the margarine tub once more (I may have been looking for bolognaise sauce at the time… or a Sylvanian stethoscope – I can’t recall) and this time I took action, decisive action. I handed it to my daughter and told her to fling them in the playground – or maybe in that garden which looks a little bare (but make sure no-one was looking in case she got in trouble).
So yes, this is a lovely present to give to a child (and not badly priced at £6). It has no garish or excessive packaging and gives children the chance to get messy, throw bombs and, hopefully, look out for the bee-friendly species that will arise in their wake. Just don’t give it to anyone who is forgetful, too cheap to invest in decent Tupperware or who finds stealing wafer thin mints a guilt-ridden nightmare.
PS If you want to have a go at making some homemade seed bombs, there are some instructions all over the internet (just make very sure you include the word 'seed' in your search) - such as here or here.








Your life is so like mine it is frightening...
Posted by: The Constant Gardener | July 04, 2012 at 01:53 PM
Oh no! I thought you were a rebel and a wild child.. so it's down to Ann-Marie to carry that torch then?
Posted by: Arabella Sock | July 04, 2012 at 02:00 PM
I AM one of life's rebels. No. Don't roll your eyes in that *tell me something I don't know* way. This is a fab way to spend a rainy day - and another, even with the memory lapse problems. Sylvanian families can drive you bonkers. I've banned them.Everyone should make seed bombs. Lets have a party. Guerilla gardening rules! Balaclavas at the ready....
Posted by: twitter.com/countrygate | July 04, 2012 at 02:18 PM
CG - the margarine tubs, the forgetfulness or just the kitchen table bomb making?
Ms Sock - To be fair, I'm becoming wilder with age. By the time I'm 80, I'll be unstoppable.
Cally - I know I like a good fancy dress party, but even I draw the line at balaclavas...
Posted by: Dawn | July 04, 2012 at 09:59 PM
All three... dreadful, isn't it.
Posted by: The Constant Gardener | July 06, 2012 at 09:57 AM
Great idea, lovely for guerilla gardening plans!
I have a load of flower seed sent to me as a tester to use up, and this would be perfect.
After all what else is there to do with over 2,000 antirrhinum seeds!
Posted by: Gaz@AlternativeEden | July 10, 2012 at 05:18 PM
The title alone makes this post. You could use it for your next book. I suppose it's a good idea - but it seems a long way round to do it when you could simply through the seed . . . couldn't you?
Posted by: Esther Montgomery | July 11, 2012 at 08:22 PM
Gaz - is the world really ready for 2,000 antirrhinums?
Esther - I think the point is the clay gives it enough heft to enable you to throw it into some inaccessible places in need of beautifying - as well as giving it something to germinate into.
Posted by: Dawn | July 13, 2012 at 02:36 PM
Gloria Hunniford was a right one in her day.
Ann-Marie has a poster of her in her wild-women shrine area surrounded by candles, joss sticks and anartfulmarrangement of full ashtrays, Rizzla packets with mysteriously torn edges and empty tumblers
Posted by: James A-S | July 26, 2012 at 09:35 PM
James - Gloria Hunniford always seemed remarkably relaxed on TV. Now I understand why.
Posted by: Dawn | August 01, 2012 at 10:51 AM
Also, I think you'll find Ann-Marie's wild woman shrine contains nothing more than a mirror.
Posted by: Dawn | August 01, 2012 at 10:52 AM