|compost area sorted|
2013 has been all but written off from a gardening point-of-view due to the demands of building Waxwings and Goldcrest - our two beautiful Eco homes. This pattern will remain as we continue to work on our bungalow and chip in our time on Judith and Rogers to get them in for Christmas. Christmas 2013. Yes. Exactly.
So, it's been a holding year for the garden in many ways with the sowing of our lawn, the completion of the Cedar Walk circular path and Judith and Roger creating the amazing 'Stumpery' feature being the main additions for 2013.
But gardening plays to one of my strengths, the plodding, the routine, the everyday. And we've had insufficient time in 2013 for basics beyond keeping the worst of the weeds down.
|getting a garden tool is no longer like a game of pick-up-sticks|
Over half way, then I ran out of petrol in the mower. Dagnabbit. Petrol nowhere on site. That's it; into the shower with the mowers anchor dropped, left marooned in the wet green sea of the lawn as torrential rain beat down over it. Lovely shower, changed, then a text to say that the builders had borrowed our petrol can and not returned it. Grrr. So, dried off and up in the rain to get the petrol which was when calamity befell. On the way back, my crocked feet shot from beneath me on a slippery part of the sodden drive and I dived into a pile of wooden pallets. That smarts. Another shower to wash all the mud off. Rest Ice Compression Elevation. Frozen peas. Wife home - she's lived with Mr Accident-Prone for too long. 'If we need to go to Accident and Emergency let's do it now, not at half past two in the morning'. Typical overreaction.
Anyway, it got me out of stuffing the loft with insulation, so there we are a few days later with a little time for gardening.
Not much to non-gardeners, but Jill spent a productive day clearing around the compost bins. She was shovelling manure when The Great Man drove by. He wondered where I was while my wife was shovelling manure into a wheelbarrow. She told him I was in the house making jam. Reputation in the world of men already rock bottom and now ruined.
I didn't answer his phone call. I knew what was coming. And it was soup anyway.