It’s a gorgeous spring day – overcast with a hint of cool, but too warm for a fleece jacket. Mother’s Day was wonderful. I’m still basking in the glow. The birds are going mad with joy and so am I. I’ve overdosed in the garden this weekend, pruning bushes and fruit trees, getting dirt under my nails, revelling in being able to bend and dig and haul stuff around with a minimum of aches and pains.
Being outdoors always reminds me of my Dad – he was such a farmer, happiest when he was ‘mucking about’ as he called it. I’m convinced he could grow plants from seeds of stone! I still use some of his old tools. When I turn a clod of dirt or snip an errant branch from a tree, my dad is in my thoughts. I had Hub cut some huge branches form the old apple tree and it doesn’t look pretty and well-shaped the way the gardening books tell you you to do it. But last year, the crop was so heavy the tree literally got bent out of shape. Some of the branches are so low we can’t run the tractor under them to mow the lawn, so it was tidy-up time.
The grape vines are tangled and budless this year.I think the weeks and weeks of brutal cold have killed them down to the roots. My roses, even the hardy climbers, are in a sulk or else they’d gone roots-up as well. I’ll give it a few more week. If nothing happens, I take that as a cosmic hint to buy some different, hardier flowering shrubs.
The wooden furniture we got at Ikea a few years ago is looking ratty, despite the layers of semi-permanent stain I’ve diligently applied every year. This afternoon, I sanded off the stain. Six chairs and a big table. Smooth as a baby’s bum. I’m trying to convince Hub to layer on the primer so that I can apply some weather-resistant paint. Who needs to see wood grain? Too much work having to maintain outdoor furniture as well as all of the stuff inside.
Another day on this earth. Family, friends, good health. Life is wonderful. We are so blessed.