Since I last wrote in January I’ve been 1,000 miles north and back. Like many migrating creatures I do this yearly, usually in late spring and early fall, but ended up going for a midwinter break also. I imagined I would spend my time listening to the cold wind whistling outside while I curled up with a pile of books in front of the woodstove, with occasional trips to a comfy chair in front of the library’s fireplace, or to meet up with friends in a café for a chat, my hands warmed by a mug of caffeine.
Not so much.
Instead, there was relentless sunshine (outside two brief snowfalls) provoking me out into the garden. So, I planted these lovely hellebores, a peach tree, an Italian prune, and one of those fancy cherry trees with four varieties grafted onto the trunk. I’m not normally in favour of multi-grafted trees, I did it for efficiency since I also had serial disasters keeping me from my books, including a truck falling through my bridge.
The return drive found the fiendish hounds crammed into the little bit of space not occupied by the new (used) Eglu. The family selling it needed a bigger coop, and before I left the daughter played a few beautiful tunes on the harp then demonstrated how she could balance a (live) mauve chicken upside-down on her head. Such talent!
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