It was like that time when we travelled from Kent to Gloucestershire to collect our first nucleus of bees. You might remember, dear Reader(s), that we were instructed by the bee seller to meet him in a lay-by off a main road, and to follow his LandRover (with assorted toys attached to its front grille) down a beaten track into the wilds of nowhere, and Lord M. and I genuinely feared for our lives. Fortunately, the Road to Certain Death emerged onto a huge concrete area upon which stood an industrial building, and we collected our nucleus of bees and beat a hasty retreat.
Yesterday, we travelled down a similar rough track in order to find the Shropshire Shepherd Hut Company. We ended up in a sort of dishevelled-looking yard, off which was a camping site, a fishery and many ramshackle buildings that looked like the kind in which you’d store your many failed attempts at taxidermy. There wasn’t a soul to be seen. It was raining. There were too many sinister-looking trees for my liking. And pot holes. And zombies watching and waiting for the best time to lurch forwards and scare the bejeezus out of us. Probably.
Anyway, we parked and wandered, and eventually found the large green workshop which smelled of carpentry and contained two cheerful, polite and helpful chaps. Turns out they merely rented this workshop from the weirdo farm/camping site/fishery/ zombie landowners and were, themselves, quite sane and normal.
We were given a guided tour of the shepherd’s hut they were currently building, and our questions were answered well. Everything in the hut was very solid and well-constructed. We were, as the young people say these days, ‘Well impressed.’
Back home, after an uninspiring lunch at the nearby garden centre, where the VERY stressed lady employee clearing the tables told me she was trying not to cry and I resisted the urge to get up and help her, I went up the garden and marked out the space for a 14' x 8' hut. It was still drizzling rain, but I stood under the oak tree and imagined how the inside of the hut would look. And then I came indoors and contacted the hut company with my ideas. The ball is rolling.
Here is climbing rose - The Lady of the Lake - meandering her way up, through and around the hornbeam hedge. I only noticed her travels when I happened to glance upwards this morning when I was walking through the arch.
The swallow babies are making themselves heard and I’ve seen a little line of beaks resting on the rim of the nest. Mr and Mrs Swallow are very busy with feeding duties, but not too busy to dive bomb Nell if she goes anywhere near the laundry door. Today’s gardening jobs were: planting out courgette number 3 (I know - I’ll regret it), potting on the nasturtiums and geraniums to their final homes, tying the tomatoes to their support canes and sowing some coleus. The recent heavy rain showers have brought on the radish, beetroot, green salad leaves and herbs, and the purple sprouting broccoli and French beans are looking very robust and would probably break the beaks of any pigeons that tried to tackle them. But I’m not removing the protective cages, just in case.
I received news that I had passed my latest assignment which was to send a voice recording of me leading a meditation into silence. It’s the only assignment that has caused some bother as I’m not overly keen on the sound of my voice and Nell kept coughing when I was trying to record it, but my tutor said it was ‘Excellent’ although maybe a little too detailed. I thought, well, make up your mind, please. Either it is excellent in which case no further comment is needed, or it’s good but could have been less detailed. Sheesh. Anyway, four more assignments to go. The end is in sight.
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KJ