What a miserable couple of geezers. These po-faced blokes adorn a pair of our authentic greco-roman urns (that is what Bossman told me anyway). “Cheer up it may never happen!” – don’t you love it when someone says that. No, me neither. Their grumpyitis might be something to do with the biting wind that plagued us today and the rock solid ground which limited what we could achieve in the garden. There are only so many layers one can wear and still be able to function. At the moment I am at critical point, any more clothes and I might just roll down the hill like a giant ball of wool in some kind of bizarre pin ball game. So we tried to keep warm by huddling in the less windy corner of the garden and cranked up the shredder to full power. We made some good mulch and cleared some of the pile of fuchsia cuttings. It could have been worse; we may have had to do star jumps again.
Thank you!
Ah, winter gardening. Cold and wet. Heavy, heavy soil. Squashy sounds of boots on soggy grass. Mud. Biting winds like the one you describe. Ick, ick, ick.
It is only the promise of spring that keeps us going, soon, soon!