According to yesterday’s blog today was declared a day of rest, relaxing by the pool with a good book and topping up my vitamin D levels. But is that what happened? Nooo. Instead I spent most of the day elbow deep in compost and lovely black soil, gardening.
With the house on the market we’re seeing the property with new eyes. Aspects that we barely notice have become stark staring eye sores in need of immediate attention. So while the MOTH (man of the house) has been busy scraping, painting, fixing, banging nails, blowing leaves and doing all manner of buff boy stuff, I’ve been tiddling about in the garden breaking nails, bumping into garden sheds and leaving skin hanging off prickly shrubs. Hardly a comparable effort but it does make him feel like he’s achieved more.
In between breaking nails and shedding skin I made time to enjoy the pool and finished my book The Paris Wife. Drowsily contemplating the cloud formation in 30+ degrees celsius heat I thought about how gardening had taken a hold and found myself planning tomorrow’s tidy-up cause.
Not realising that today was destined to be hijacked by ‘the garage garden’ I didn’t take a before photo. Just so you know I’m not cheating, here’s the before photo of tomorrow’s project. All going to plan it should look a lot tidier if not quite different this time tomorrow.
Gardening is such a rewarding activity. Apart from being able to see results fairly quickly it’s an outdoor activity with exercise as an (almost) subliminal happening: win-win. With a trowel in one hand and a recalcitrant herbaceous shrubby thingee in the other my mind is focussed on what to do with either hand leaving little headspace for cognitive wittering … and that’s a good thing. After a day in the garden I’m almost ready to take on the world again, providing it goes my way this time.