1. All the best woodwork plans are covered in blood stains, right? (The tape measure got me.)
1b. After hanging out with the chickens for a bit, Kaufman follows us further down the garden. He meows, telling us a story, then takes far too long digging while having a wee.
1c. We have a number of pieces of wood in varying long lengths, a number of vegetable beds to edge (in a priority order) and a limit to what lengths will fit in the car. I love it when life is like a school maths puzzle (especially one that works out with very little remainder).
1d. That we don’t have to be exact or perfect in our angles or workmanship – that good enough is good enough and the beds are finished quickly without any problems.
1e. I whisk away the weed protection and underneath there are rows of little green shoots. Elsewhere, the plants in the green house are heavy with mange tout again and my late beans have managed a crop too. Both give me hope for next year.
2. I am rendered lethargic by the cold. A cup of tea starts the thaw; a shower finishes the job. Afterwards I double-sock for the first time in winter 2014-2015.
3. Strange bats at the conrod joint as the treadle bounces it up and down. Tilda explores the log bag, prompting a series of obvious jokes. And Kaufman watches over them from his plinth, freshly giant and stately.
Leave a Reply