Where the weeds grow . . . the scene of the action this afternoon.
Ye Gods. Why is that you could lay down and sleep on the head of a pin when you've spent the morning in the garden? I'm just having a well-earned break as my back would rather like to be straight for a while, after being crooked over as I emptied pots and potted on Aquilegias (dozens of the things) and dug up self-seeded plants from the garden to pot up and sell. Weeding and seed sowing after lunch.
As per usual I am over-stretching myself, but after a winter indoors it is so good to be out in the fresh air again. It also comforts me to think that if I can sell some plants on a regular basis this summer, it helps to keep the wolf from the door a bit. So I have been digging up Aquilegias, Foxgloves, Pulmonaria, Welsh Poppies, Cowslips, scented leaf Geraniums etc.
Every now and then my husband will call me and I have to trot across and hold a bit of wood for him whilst he saws it up for his next project. I would quite like to take a walk, but don't think I have time. Tea will be . . . hmmm. I'll deal with that when we come to it.
In the meantime, it's the start of the eight hour days in the garden . . .