Some days I know what I’m going to do, and some days I don’t. Today was a ‘don’t know’ day which had the potential to become mediocre and dull BUT just before lunchtime I had a rush of the proactives, took myself off to the greenhouse and sowed some runner beans, marigolds, sage and tarragon, and watered my hundreds of little flower seedlings. The greenhouse is filling up now so I can’t sow anything else, not in there anyway.
After lunch I decided it would be a REALLY good idea to sort out the shed at the top of the garden. It’s a big shed so, theoretically, it should be easy to walk in there and find exactly what one wants when one wants it. However, this has become not the case of late and the shed resembles what I call a clutter bucket, and for someone who likes a bit of order in her life, this will NOT do.
And what with the return of the sunshine, I decided to empty the contents of the shed onto the grass, give the empty shed a jolly good sweep out, evict a few spiders and reinstate some proper order.
About an hour after I started my ‘Sort Out the Shed’ project, just as I was putting things back and thinking I probably shouldn’t have bothered washing my hair that morning, what with all the dust and cobwebs and stuff, this arrived…
…800 kg of plum slate, ready to form the pathways between the new raised beds at the top end of the garden. The delivery driver deposited the bag of slate as far up the driveway as his Health ‘n’ Safety guidance would allow, and then had a bit of a titter when we said we were going to move it, bit by bit, with buckets ‘n’ barrow up the rest of the driveway, through the gate, across the courtyard, up the steps, through the middle garden and to the very end of the top garden i.e as far away as we could possibly be from the current position of the dumpy bag.
Personally, I thought that was a bit rude. If I’d been the delivery driver, I’d have wished the middle-aged couple well in their endeavours in the blazing hot sunshine. Words of encouragement and admiration, that kind of stuff. Strictly no tittering.
Anyway, moving on…
…we started moving the slate, kilo by kilo, up the garden at 1.45 p.m. Every 40 minutes or so we stopped for a breather. We laid the rest of the weed suppressing membrane and positioned the rest of the raised beds. Andy took a call from an acquaintance who wanted some advice regarding their dog who was unwell. Calling Andy is cheaper than taking your animal to your own vet for advice. And we stopped for a brief chat to our neighbours who were curious about the trudging back and forth with buckets and barrows of slate and informed us that when the lorry arrived to deliver it, their living room was plunged into darkness.
At 5.30 p.m, the slate bag was empty and we high-fived each other in triumph as we staggered, hot, sweaty, aching and tired, back down the garden. We had done it! Me and him, aged 58 and 53 had moved 800 kg of slate a not inconsiderable distance, and most of it uphill, too. Bloody marvellous!!
I find days like this very satisfying. It’s good to be busy and to feel like you’ve achieved something.
Seeds sown, shed sorted, slate shifted. Hurrah!
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KJ