Gardening

An icy wind blows. The sun is shining. I’ve got my washing out & it seems to be drying fast. So much for the weatherman’s prediction of rain!

We’re once more without a gardener. Di has decided she’d prefer the security of a regular job at the power station rather than the insecurity of a rather seasonal job as a self-employed gardener. I can’t entirely blame her. However, it does mean we’re once more without a gardener.

Last week, as it was milder & I was coming to the conclusion Di wasn’t going to manage on her own, especially if she was going to end up with phases of 12 hour nights, I got out & did a bit. The Fox was impressed by what an impact I’d made. We’re now wondering if, between the two of us, we could keep on top of it. After all it is supposed to be low maintenance.

My anxiety is if I have another spell of ill-health. The garden was immaculate when we arrived here. Then I went through a phase of ill-health (cancer) & we had to support parents through the loss of my brother, dementia & subsequently all their deaths. By the time I was up to venturing into the garden, a few years later, it had already become a jungle, with self-planted trees, rampant weeds such as couch grass & mare’s tails. It would be a pity for the same to happen again & I can’t be confident my health will keep going. For that matter I’m not even confident about the Fox’s health since his stroke (even though he’s more or less got back to feeling like himself again at last). We also must accept the fact we are both in our 60s now. Time’s chariot is winging its way this way fast. The Fox becomes a pensioner next month. Another few years I will be joining him. Neither of our energy levels or fitness are what they were.

 

An unexpected caller

The man came round to measure up the windows & doors, getting an idea of the styles we fancied & give us a price.

We were in the bedroom when the strange noise happened. At first I thought I was imagining things. Was someone knocking on the front door? I slipped off to see.

I couldn’t believe it. There, sitting on the window sill of the kitchen was a huge herring gull, tapping away at the window. For all the world he looked as though he wanted to come in.

I returned to the bedroom, half-laughing. I was soon told I shouldn’t keep the sugar-coated worms inside but leave them outside for the birds to get at them easily.

By the time we got to the kitchen, the gull had flown off. White marks smeared the glass where he had been tapping. Today it has been raining most of the morning & the marks are finally washing off.

All of a whirl

This afternoon we’re expecting the first man to come to give us a quote for the new double glazing/uPVC doors.

Different designs keep whirring through my mind. Do we want stained glass or cut glass in the window of the door? Frosted glass or plain? How about a stable door at the back? I love to look out of the window there & look down our back garden. To do the annual bird count I just sit at the back door in the warmth & look out. Then there’s the style of window. Tilt & turn? Sash? One large opening window across the top? Or two smaller ones? The possibilities seem endless. They just keep whirring away.

It’s a sunny day once more. Maybe I will get out in it & do a bit of weeding. I find working in the garden satisfying, even if back-breaking & knee-aching. It is hard reaching down to the ground all the time when you cannot support yourself comfortably on bent knees.

I am pleased to see the daffodils have finally got to the stage of standing tall & starting to yellow up. There seem to have been so many around, along the streets & in other people’s gardens & yet ours are still in bud. I suppose that’s what comes of living in a frost pocket as we do.