The sun is shining today and it sort of lulls one into a false sense of security, because it is FREEZING out there. Apparently this will be the same for the rest of the week, and the weekend was Arctic.
We all - the friends who help me on the allotment, went down yesterday. I wore David's wellington boots. They are size 13. I am not a size 13. Nether is he any longer. He takes a size 14. However, there was a lot of mud and soil to contend with, and my good boots do not need this, so I clomped about like a clown, and had some interesting balance and co-ordination problems.
We all - the friends who help me on the allotment, went down yesterday. I wore David's wellington boots. They are size 13. I am not a size 13. Nether is he any longer. He takes a size 14. However, there was a lot of mud and soil to contend with, and my good boots do not need this, so I clomped about like a clown, and had some interesting balance and co-ordination problems.
I concentrated on spreading chicken straw and manure into the beds - all 4 of the new raised beds- and then tossed some compost over them and mixed it all in. The men rotivated the ground again, and Margaret did the edges, replanted stuff, dug and weeded. We were all moving, because stopping meant freezing to death.
The allotment is really looking great. Hard work pays off, and they worked hard. Me, well, I did what I could. But my raised beds are a source of great pride and, while pride may be a sin, I am good with that. They are beautiful. If you like gardening......
I still need soil. Loads of it. Compost. I have decided that I am going to request bags of compost for my birthday at the end of May. My family may think I have lost my mind, but compost is good.
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| Jean producing a delicious Easter lunch for us all |
The weekend has been a social whirl around here. I seldom go out, but we had friends for coffee on Friday, Mum and I went to Glynis and Peter's for dinner on Saturday night, to Jean's for Easter Sunday lunch after church and I was out at friends last night for chili.
I need a week to recover. We have been waddling, I tell you, not walking.
And it was really lovely.
Now if it would just warm up, I would be VERY happy.
Anyway, I have now sterilised the potato pots and they are drying in the sun as I speak. I will stack them before the sun goes down to try to protect the terracotta ones. 90% of my terracotta pots have declared their days over. The cold winter has meant they are cracking and dropping parts all over the place. They seem to drop more bits if you even breathe near them. I cannot tell you how stunning they are. Oh well. They just have to get through 2013 and we will be happy. Much though I despise plastic, the plastic pots as a) lighter for me to carry and b) last through cold winters. So any new ones in the future, will be plastic.
I was just thinking that I could use a little more artistic thought when posting to get balance and interest and whatever. then I thought to myself, hey, Linds, just keep doing what you set out to do in the first place. Find a place to write, share and record. And that is what I will keep doing. It is too easy to slip into thinking I should be someone who I clearly am not.
I don't write a great deal about my thoughts, or things swirling around in my mind. Or feelings. Or my opinions. I have a great deal of those. Opinions. I like to keep up with current events globally. I read all sides of the spectrum and try to come to a balanced viewpoint. Neither do I write much about legal battles. Nor do I write much about pain. Or my children. Or so many things. Good heavens, that doesn't leave a great deal. You see, I am made up of all those things. Faith, family, dreams, knowledge, pain, and warrior tendencies.
I don't write about what I CAN'T do. I try to focus my life on what I CAN do. But that does not wipe out the things I can no longer do. They are there constantly, a reminder. But there are new and wonderful things to try and to experience as well. And now I am getting all philosophical. I do philosophical as well sometimes.
My hands are rough and covered in cuts and scrapes. These are hands which dig and saw and cut and screw, and wash and bleach and prune and clean and crochet and cook and write and steer, and scrub and drill and sew and dust and shape and bake and plant and water and dial and hold and are raised up and support, and carry and pack and ......
These are the hands which have created the person you have come to know here at RCR. The grubby ones. The hands which transfer the words in my heart and mind to the little screen in front of me. The nails are broken, dried out and splitting. You can tell it is Spring by looking at these hands. They will get worse before Summer is over and Autumn comes. They are arthritic and swollen and stiff and dry.
But you can't see that, can you? Of course you can't. (I hate wearing gloves to work at anything. Or to dig in the soil. I like the feel of the earth against my skin.) I wonder what your hands look like. What wonderful things they have made, or touched. I wonder if your hands scribble post it notes and leave them all over the place. I wonderful if those hands look like mine?
A mother's hands. A woman's hands. A gardener's hands.
Mine.
I was just thinking that I could use a little more artistic thought when posting to get balance and interest and whatever. then I thought to myself, hey, Linds, just keep doing what you set out to do in the first place. Find a place to write, share and record. And that is what I will keep doing. It is too easy to slip into thinking I should be someone who I clearly am not.
I don't write a great deal about my thoughts, or things swirling around in my mind. Or feelings. Or my opinions. I have a great deal of those. Opinions. I like to keep up with current events globally. I read all sides of the spectrum and try to come to a balanced viewpoint. Neither do I write much about legal battles. Nor do I write much about pain. Or my children. Or so many things. Good heavens, that doesn't leave a great deal. You see, I am made up of all those things. Faith, family, dreams, knowledge, pain, and warrior tendencies.
I don't write about what I CAN'T do. I try to focus my life on what I CAN do. But that does not wipe out the things I can no longer do. They are there constantly, a reminder. But there are new and wonderful things to try and to experience as well. And now I am getting all philosophical. I do philosophical as well sometimes.
But you can't see that, can you? Of course you can't. (I hate wearing gloves to work at anything. Or to dig in the soil. I like the feel of the earth against my skin.) I wonder what your hands look like. What wonderful things they have made, or touched. I wonder if your hands scribble post it notes and leave them all over the place. I wonderful if those hands look like mine?
A mother's hands. A woman's hands. A gardener's hands.
Mine.
So often you put into words my own thoughts. Yes my own are also stained and rough from gardening. Which hands are the most beautful? (l don't mean my own)
ReplyDeleteBeauty is in the eye of the beholder
Can beauty be seen in those lily white hands
The skin so soft and unmarked?
Each nail carefully shaped red varnish applied
That the owner takes care not to chip
Round wrists and round fingers are bangels and rings
That go with the clothes that she wears
When jobs must be done that she cannot escape
She covers them up with great care
Fingers bent up, all twisted arthric and scared
Age spot marked with veins standing out
These hands they have lived, these hands they have cared
Many tasks they have done in their day
Just one small decoration a thin band of gold
Given her by the man that she loved
Who sits holding her hand, tho she no longer knows him
As she sleeps in a hospital bed.
My Mother.
I love what you are made of. The best stuff.
ReplyDeleteIt is fun to see the beds in the off season, Linds. I am picturing them in a few months time.
ReplyDeleteLove the writings about your hands!!
Your posts are the best - often surprising, always funny, so thoughtful, and very unique! I love your reflection on your hands - once again, we are alike! I transplanted tomatoes over the last few days and the dirt is embedded in my cuticles again. I think I'm going to use your prompt and do a post like this on my blog this week. Stay tuned - thanks for inspiring!!
ReplyDeleteAnd your allotment looks wonderful - you are going to grow good stuff there this year! Your Easter looks very special shared with special friends - the best kind!