My mother is the proud owner of an endless supply of what some might call “pearls of wisdom”. Over the years these have mainly been addressed to her long-suffering children and are generally incomprehensible. What is slightly unnerving is that as I approach my zenith many of these sayings are beginning to make sense, one of which is “you do one job and make half a dozen more”. This particularly gem was generally aimed at me and always concluded with a sigh. In the past I always thought this a little ungracious; I was helping, I did my best and it obviously was not good enough (pout). A case in point: I made a delicious cake. So all utensils, pans, surfaces, ceiling etc may now be dirty, all the eggs used up and the dog covered in flour but weren’t you paying attention: I made a
Over the last couple of days Superbaz repaired/rebuilt the wall behind the pastel border. It was falling down and subsequently was a restricted area for myself and Hero. This meant that the edge of the strip bed and back of PB were particularly weedy and unloved. Before work started I relocated some of the more vulnerable plants and pointed out some of the immovables. As usual SB has constructed one of his beautiful walls and when he presented it to me with pride I couldn’t help but look down towards my beautiful soil. With my face frozen in a rictus smile, I promised him that I understood that he had been as careful as possible and I would tidy up the detritus. Then I stuck my head in a bush and wept.
Today I have been trying to rectified the compacted, rock strewn soil. I cleared off as much rubbish as I could and forked it all over, removing the lost souls below, apologising and replanting before finishing off with a blanket of our best leaf mould. Whilst I was there I moved the wrongly sited Campanula persicifolia and dug out as much of that thug in ballerinas clothing, Physostegia virginiana “Rosea”, as I could manage. After all that fuss it was a happy ending after all.