The second season started well - our potatoes were frosted in late May, but undaunted we carried on, cultivated the areas we had left fallow the first year and planted crops - which subsequently failed.
Last year, I determined to get to grips with the plot that was by now threatening to go back to nature. I gave in and used Roundup on the most stubborn weeds, something I had promised myself I would never do. Our little patch of paradise began to resemble a derelict building site.
I started to lose sleep over it. I started to feel like a failure.
So, we have decided to give it up. I went up last night to say goodbye and thank you and to collect the last of our tools. I felt nostalgic on the long trudge up the path to the middle of the windy hillside, and wavered for a moment - until I saw that something had broken down our fence and there was a rabbit lolloping about in it.
I picked the last tulips, hoisted my barrow and headed back to the car. And breathed.