Wednesday, 25 March 2009
Where have all the hours gone?
It feels strange to be posting on this blog again - it has been such a hectic ten days with hardly time to draw breath. But here I am back online and anxious to greet new followers (hello), and also to apologise to everyone else who reads about the oddities of my life for lack of postings.
A few days ago, I noticed the first greening of the hawthorn, and rather than feel a lift of the heart at this first true sign of Spring (appropriate to greet last Saturday's equinox), I experienced a definite feeling of dread. Of the seasons inexorably walking forward, overtaking me. Morbid. I cannot keep up – there is so much to do, in the garden, the house, work, my ‘book’ ….. it is as if I am on a treadmill. Not that I don’t enjoy the things I am doing; I just don’t seem able to accomplish all I know I must, in the time there is available.
Maybe the feeling will pass when I get my hands in the earth again. It’s been a long hard slog, completing three little garden keepsake books to accompany an unexpected craft article (which I will document in due course in my journaling blog), but they are done and away to the editor, along with the instructional feature that I was commissioned to write.
In between writing and making sessions, I walked my garden, recalling the good things that uplift the spirit – hearing small birds sweetly twittering in the tall old wild-apple tree in our hedge; looking up, it was a flock of linnets, sounding like so many bright canaries. Seeing the shape of our elderly ‘Bramley’ (cooking apple) – now 120 years old; we have lived here for one-third of its life! Oh, the blossom in Spring, the apples it still showers us with each Autumn, the thought of apple pie, tarte tatin, apple-sage-and-onion compote to accompany an evening roast, let alone the cider or apple wine. Am I wishing the summer away?? !!!
Writing all this brings me back to earth (literally): reminding me how much I love to be in our garden, despite the slave it is to keep it ‘nice’ - and the misery of three years of neglect whilst we were barn-raising.
I recall the happiness of two weekends ago when I spring-cleaned my greenhouse, installed a bench of herbs in readiness for a photo-session, sowed some seeds, some of which a field-mouse subsequently ate!
Then last weekend, I created a herb terrace between my 'square-foot' vegetable beds and the 'cider-apple' garden (I give names to all the small sub-divisions of our acre of ground), and spent a morning back in early February surveying all that needed attention; horrifying and shaming. The square-foot beds need a makeover, or rather a vigorous de-weeding session, but the tiny terrace is now furnished with table and two chairs for when I have the time to write outdoors (when ????), plus a wooden planter that Raymond made me some while back which I unearthed from amidst the wilderness of dead nettles, and numerous pots - all now planted with culinary herbs.
Tomorrow I must withdraw again whilst I write a magazine feature to accompany the herb photos we have been taking for another commissioned article; and I must sow the peas that have been soaking by the sink - and catch up on all the blogging news I have missed.