Friday May 3rd 2019Tim
Your gardener is
struggling a little with an industrial action. A demand
for better working conditions and a much, much closer
adherence to work rules. None of this kneeling on gravel
paths without an adequate and functioning knee pillow.
Correctly tied shoe laces, no flopping around without
proper arch support. Nor is the spine without its
demands, and here things might have gone a little
further than "for god's sake lift with your back, you
idiot." All of which means a rain day was met with
almost religious fervor.
Kind of no wonder
back in the Middle Ages we gardeners lingered at our
peril, we became dispensable and were returned to the
blissful tilth at a rosy age, preferably before the
middle of May while Spring still feels hopeful, before
the onslaught of Hoppy Bug, and whatever dishonorable
cowardly creature it is that nibbles little Chards in
the dead of night and then completely disappears. It's
Cossack behavior of the worst kind, and I'm far too old
to dodder around at night with a lantern, stress out the
Mockingbird nestlings, probably trample the Spinach,
trip and end up in the emergency room..