The Garden That Is Finished Is Dead

We’ve lived in our house for nearly a decade.  It has been almost ten years since we looked round the house, noticed that the garden was huge, had a holly tree and a rhododendron bush and thought it might just be the place for us.

Since we moved in we have experimented, designed, dug, planted, mowed, weeded, changed, adapted, moved plants, removed plants, pruned and sowed.  We also brought in a greenhouse some five years ago, with the intention of using it once we had built the new shed, removed the old shed and made space for it.  The greenhouse was a bargain; a friend wanted £50 for it so we had it even though we were nowhere ready for it.  And I really wasn’t ready; I’ve blogged before about how I  have not enjoyed the physical work of gardening but in the last couple of years it has started to appeal to me a lot more, and I am ready for that greenhouse now.

Anyway, last summer, the new shed was built. This weekend we have taken down the old shed, lifted the crazy paved patio and moved the greenhouse into the spot that is to be its home.  It now has the beginnings of a concrete base and as I write, the bloke is putting the glass in.  In almost no time at all, we’re going to have a usable greenhouse!  I am unbelievable excited about this and already have a number of trays of seeds ready to find their home in there.  The greenhouse will soon be finished, but I feel like my gardening life has just begun!

More Garden Visitors

I have had the loveliest day today.  A bit of a lie in, Marmite for breakfast, lunch with a mate, a bit of shopping then home to watch the birds in the garden.  Today’s spectacle was provided by these two.  One blue tit arrived, checked out what was on offer, had a taste of everything, chirped and flew off.  After about a minute he was joined by another blue tit, and one watched while the other ate (they definitely had their beady little eyes on me) and then they swapped over.  I also saw a heron go over this afternoon, as well as the ubiquitous pigeons, gulls, magpies and sparrows.  See what I mean about urban wildlife?

Watch the birdie!

I sat for the best part of an hour this evening watching the sparrows and then this robin feeding.  Urban wildlife is so fascinating – these creatures are cautious, but not timid.  The sparrows  are, we think, the birds we watched as fledglings last year, and they are perfectly happy going about their business with us around.  The robin is an opportunist who appears when the feeder has been filled up or when gardening has taken place!

Mothering Sunday

I found it hard not to be sad today.  I woke up and picked up my phone, as I always do, and saw the stream of tweets and Facebook updates about Mothers’ Day.  My lovely women friends, describing their gifts and cards, their breakfasts in bed, the handicrafts brought home from school and pre-school in sticky fists and handed over with love.  Those didn’t make me sad. I smiled, and clicked ‘like this’, and rolled over and relished the fact that a lie-in is pretty normal here, with no babies or toddlers to wrench me from my bed. I made the right choice, it suits me.

It’s the things I didn’t choose that make me sad.  I miss my Mom.  We sent flowers to my Mother in Law and I was happy that she loved them, and I don’t find myself having panic attacks in card shops when I choose a card for her these days.  But there’s a weird sort of limbo about Mothers’ Day when it doesn’t really touch you.  As a woman who is not a mother and no longer has a mother, I felt a bit…well,  out of the loop.

I mused on this throughout the morning, and when a series of unfortunate events (i.e. a phone call from The Bloke’s work) meant our plans to go out for a walk were scuppered, I took my camera out into the garden to see what was happening out there.  It seemed appropriate that a clump of Forget-Me-Nots have come up, presenting their first flowers of the year as a tiny, perfect posy; and this, and the fact that I will NEVER forget, is my token of appreciation for my Mom.

A Weighty Problem.

I am.

I am weighty.

I have spent the last decade on a diet, or gaining weight having been on a diet.  Before that, I was the bonny baby, the chubby child, the kid who was never picked for the team, the one who ‘would be really pretty if you lost a bit of weight.’

And since last September I’ve been on Slimming World.  I have lost a stone, one measly stone,  and that frustrates me.  As of yesterday, I’m back to Weight Watchers, which works for me  (when I work at it), and to celebrate the decision I made pizza, Weight Watchers style, for dinner.

These days I’m too old for the team and too mature to be pretty, but I am hoping that I might at least be fitter, healthier and in smaller clothes by the time the summer comes.

On Marriage

For Clive, on our anniversary.

On Marriage
Kahlil Gibran

You were born together, and together you shall be forevermore.
You shall be together when the white wings of death scatter your days.
Ay, you shall be together even in the silent memory of God.
But let there be spaces in your togetherness,
And let the winds of the heavens dance between you.

Love one another, but make not a bond of love:
Let it rather be a moving sea between the shores of your souls.
Fill each other’s cup but drink not from one cup.
Give one another of your bread but eat not from the same loaf
Sing and dance together and be joyous, but let each one of you be alone,
Even as the strings of a lute are alone though they quiver with the same music.

Give your hearts, but not into each other’s keeping.
For only the hand of Life can contain your hearts.
And stand together yet not too near together:
For the pillars of the temple stand apart,
And the oak tree and the cypress grow not in each other’s shadow.

Saint Valentine’s Day

We don’t bother much with it here – it’s the day before our wedding anniversary and I am of the belief that it’s cliched and over-commercial. I’m a lover of stories though, and the tales that led to the rather odd custom of sending anonymous cards intrigues me.

There’s no real evidence that any of the people known as ‘Saint Valentine’ were romantics in the sense we think of.  There is one lovely legend, however, which says that a priest named Valentine married young Roman soldiers to their sweethearts despite a decree from Emperor Claudius II which forbade such things.  Claudius believed that single men made better soldiers. When he discovered what was happening he had Valentine arrested and jailed, and sentenced him to death.  Some versions of the legend say that this Valentine sent the first ever Valentine’s card to a young girl.  She may have been the jailer’s daughter or she may have been someone he’d previously healed (she may have been both), but the words on that note were familiar to us today: “From Your Valentine.”

Welcome to 2011…

This should have happened 6 weeks ago, I know, but I’ve been busy.  I’ve been being 40!

Anyway, now that’s all done and dusted I’m updating and reviving my blog, so hello, and see you soon… I promise!

In Search of a Simple Life

I’ve found blogging very difficult this year.  There are several entries where I simply fly by to say ‘I haven’t forgotten’ and I’ve gone weeks and weeks without posting.  Life just seems too full, too complicated, too busy.

What I yearn for is a simple life.  I do love my job (most days) and in the past when the conversation has arisen I’ve always said I would carry on doing it even if I didn’t have to make a living for myself.  I don’t think that’s the case any more.  I’d love to have more time to keep chickens, take photographs, learn new skills, and quite frankly my working life gets in the way of that all too often.

Actually, my whole life needs a damn good declutter.  I write this at a desk which has barely a spare inch on it;  it pretty much represents my life.  There are bottles of nail polish, rolls of sellotape, crumpled paperwork, pots of pens, boxes of small change; all manner of bits and bobs which clutter my life.

Yesterday I sorted through the piles of clean laundry in the spare room.  I have perhaps 15 black t shirts.  They’re not all the same; there are v-necks, round necks, short sleeves, long sleeves, 3/4 sleeves, fitted, drapey and slinky, but really, who needs all of those?  On the stairs there are 3 pairs of my shoes.  I probably have 30 pairs altogether, and 2/3 of them are not where they should be, i.e. put away tidily.

So, what to do?  I’m going to keep this blog short, then I’m going to tidy my desk.  When I’ve done that I’m going to put away my shoes.  Then I might do some ironing, and take a few more steps towards achieving a simpler life.

Then I’m going to dream about writing a letter of resignation so that when my numbers come up on the lotto I can embark on the simple life I think I really deserve.

For Dee

“A true friend is someone who thinks that you are a good egg even though he knows that you are slightly cracked.” — Bernard Meltzer.