Well, for those of you who might have missed me 
, I’ve been busy in the garden the last two days. Rotting stakes had to be replaced around raised flower beds and across a stepped pathway. Not that I’m talking about anything big, you understand, but just fiddly because it’s all crammed into such a small area. We have clay soil here which tends to hold anything is comes into contact with in an iron grip, making stake replacement a strenuous, backbreaking task.
For those who might be interested, my tools are a rubber mallet for whacking the stakes sideways and downwards, a trowel for general digging, an old metal knife for the tricky corners, secateurs for cutting away unhelpful roots and knee pads for support and to relieve pain. The use of feeling fingers is an unfortunate necessity for some operations. This inevitably results in soft hands becoming blistered and cut while peeling layers of clay from stakes that, apart from one or two friendlier types, have no intention of being removed. All in all, not really work conducive to the fermentation of literary ideas.
I’m taking a break today to recover before continuing. A few more stakes have yet to be replaced and a portion of a somewhat sunken tiled terrace has to be raised. Getting the six sided tiles together and in a horizontal line, of even height but sloping gently downwards to carry rain water away, is the tricky part which has captured my imagination lately. I wonder how I did it last time but that was so long ago and the information is apparently buried deep. I seem to remember long planks, sticks with string attached and a spirit level of course, or in this case a spirit almost level . Oh, and some luck.
Although my own career has been in meteorology, a largely theoretical pursuit, I somehow mostly manage to make a good showing when working with the hands in and about the house, not that I’ve had any formal training but possibly because of something hereditary I always like to think. My grandfathers, whom I unfortunately never knew, were both builders. My father was also successful as an engineer in heavy industry, climbing eventually on merit into management circles. So something might have rubbed off, as it were. Who knows?
The sunlight has been very strong here lately, partly because it’s midsummer but also due to the high ultraviolet content. The authorities are saying that more than fifteen minutes direct sunlight can be harmful to exposed epidermal layers. The northeast wind we now have is bringing relatively cooler air from Scandinavia which is very clear due to its passage over largely non-industrial terrain or water. So shade seemed imperative and to this end I employed an old portable parasol which worked fine.
I would have preferred to have carried out the work in the later spring but somehow the weather just didn’t play ball. Lands with a sea climate, such as ours, have exceedingly changeable weather, rarely remaining dry for more than a few days at a time, except in summer when the garden really needs it . Then it can remain dry for three weeks at a time.
Well, the garden has a renewed fresh look about it already, which makes all the work and pain worthwhile. I hear showers are underway from the south this evening and tomorrow so it might be a while before operations can recommence.
Have a better one!
