Good Friday is meant to be quiet and reflective. In theory. Our peace was somewhat compromised at 10am by the sounds of a pneumatic drill. The council doesn't stop work on Good Friday. In fact, just about everything is open, all the shops as well. Not like when I was a child!
In SA, long ago, on Good Friday, nothing was open, and the radio (there was no TV back then) played somber music all day. Think the slowest of Bach's compositions. It is still, to me, the holiest of days. Easter Sunday is a day of joy, and Good Friday a day of wonder, gratitude, and an on your knees amazing acceptance of the enormous sacrifice made for each and every one of us. Unbelievable. Mind boggling. The biggest of gifts.
The Easter Weekend is traditionally a time in the northern hemisphere when we head into the garden and start really pottering. Hah. I dug over a few large pots and the top 3 inches of soil is frozen. Ridiculous. Snow could be falling soon too, and temps are forecast to drop to -10C in some parts. Spring? Not here.
Mum needed me to set her hair - I am an improving hairdresser - and then I had a text from Jean and her friend Monika, who is visiting from the Caucasus. They were out for a bracing walk, and freezing, and about to arrive for coffee and hot cross buns. So I set the heating to tropical and they thawed as we ate toasted buns and drank the hot coffee. Monika really does feel the cold, so ended up wrapped in blankets even though the house was warm. Well, I thought it was. Jean thought it was. It was hysterical.
I love friends popping by,. I have said this many times. Mother retreated upstairs with the hairdryer and sat in the sporadic sun. She was quite happy. Not that any of us would mind the rollers and scarf at all. Welcome to real life at the Casa de la Rockign Chair.
After they headed off, I went back into the garden to see how the bird trying to build a nest on my ladder was doing. The poor thing must have been trying for hours because there was a mountain of debris at the base of the ladder and as soon as it flew off for more, what it had placed on a tread, fell off.
It was trying to build too low down. The treads slope too much there. It needs to go upstairs to another floor of the apartment building. So, in an effort to show it where to go like last year, and given that birds would not be able to read a sign post, I stuffed a whole lot of the debris (think my hanging basket liners which are now history) on a higher rung.
Hmm. It may now think that an eagle is nesting there, given the amount I stuffed on it. Oh, the angst.........
2 hours later. I dug out another 7 bags of compost from the bottom of my bin to take to the allotment. Half bags. So they can be carried. And then the top half sank gracefully down, so I opened the top, and managed to dig a bucket of good stuff from the back part, and then I mixed the rest up. Sort of. With a long handled little garden spade. I am now going to gather up shredded paper, and wait for the grass cuttings to come over the fence. My neighbours give me theirs as I have no grass. And then next year's lot should be good.
You have no idea how many worms there are in there. Billions. And I do not exaggerate, believe me. I loathe worms, but they are essential for the compost, aren't they, so I try to ignore them.
I am now feeling as though spring is here, and quite virtuous. Just because of the garden bit and the 7 bags all in a row, never mind the temps. And the pile of seed trays and pots waiting to be planted. Just a few. I need loads, of course. I can't wait for the weather to warm up!
But now I need a nap and maybe another hot cross bun. Toasted. With butter..............
And then I must check to see if the bird is back.
Missy is in the snow up in the mountains. I suspect she is having an absolute ball. She loves going to Swizzleland.
Anyway, my friends, I hope that your Easter weekend is filled with blessings and peace. And the absence of pneumatic drills.