HOW DOES YOUR GARDEN GROW?

Pearl, my great friend is about to be off on her travels to places .. exotic. I must admit to being somewhat jealous as she follows the sun around the world; however I am hopeful that we will be following shortly. Anyway, as she is packing up and shipping out I am the grateful recipient of all her pot plants. Early on Saturday morning Americo and I dragged ourselves out of bed to collect our hire van and then onwards to Pearl’s. The morning dawned, grey and cold, with our TomTom refusing to registering the morning light as daytime, preferring to stay on evening colours!

We arrived, on time.. a concept Pearl is unfamiliar with and consequently she was still abed! I am sure she was only too thrilled to find Americo & I on her doorstep. Well.. I believe the actual image that greeted her was me squealing and running for cover as Americo stood like king of the hill, pelting me with snowballs. The minute she unlocked the door, without a hello or by your leave, I stormed the house! Surprisingly we did actually manage to load the plants into our van albeit with the odd snowball flying wildly. I have to mention here that in snowball fights my aim, generally rubbish, is even more impaired when under pressure. I was thrilled therefore when I managed to wallop Americo with a snowball that glanced off the van and down his shirt. JUSTICE!

It was a very slow drive home, by which stage the weather had deteriorated to a constant icy drizzle. The two of us, looking very woe begotten, unloaded the van of what seemed like millions of plants then surveyed our garden and wondered… what the hell do we do now?? I suggested that they looked perfect where they stood, kind of arty. Americo (as always!) had other ideas, no time like the present, so we set about recreating our patch of yard.

I am happy to announce it looks lovely the hours of toil paid off, but by the end of it we were drenched, muddy, cold and numb. When all was done we both stripped off at the door and ran, naked, upstairs into a steaming hot bath, curious neighbours be damned!

HOME IS WHERE THE HEART IS...

I have been inspired! Whilst perusing my way through cyberspace, I popped into one of my regular blog sites – not the marrying kind. Marty, the writer, focuses her blog on wedding ideas that are homemade and creative, obviously my wedding planning has long since been and gone, HOWEVER I came across this wonderful idea. [Don’t be surprised when you all get potted gumboots (wellies) for Christmas!] When I read Marty’s blog I imagine her home to be a hive of creativity, filled to the brim with innovative and bright designs.

This got me thinking (always a bad thing) and I realised that our home is not very homely. We have the most amazing wedding pictures, but nothing on the walls, we have lovely photo frames but they still have the original ‘Kodac Family’ in them. Our home, in essence, is transient; it is ready to be packed up and shipped out with minimal effort and fuss – the realisation of which has come as quite a shock.

Don’t get me wrong, I love our home it is just not the focus of my life. There always seem to be something more important that needs attention – friends, family, finances .. LIFE! Subconsciously, I think I have been avoiding creating a homely home here in the UK. It feels as though by hanging that picture I am making a commitment to permanence. I am accepting that we will never return to Zimbabwe.

I know – it is completely illogical and unreasonable! Luckily Americo never expects me to be either logical or reasonable, in fact I believe that life would be rather disappointing if I was..

Anyhow, now that we are discussing family .. Calm down parents – it is only a DISCUSSION! I am beginning to undergo a change of heart. That picture frame does not represent eternalness, what goes up can still be taken down. In the end, my biggest realisation is this… My home is where Americo is. Everything else is just stuff, pretty but unimportant.
Still .. curtains would be nice!!

GRUBBY HANDS

Yes – I was gardening this weekend. Although whoever says that this is a therapeutic past-time is lying through their teeth! There in nothing enjoyable about scrabbling about in the dirt with all kinds of creepy crawlies lurking in the shadows. It was a ridiculous idea and would you believe that I actually initiated proceedings? No? Nor can I.

It all started like this..

As I mentioned Americo has been harassing me about leaving a weekend free to do all kinds of energetic household things. Obviously with this kind of incentive I have attempted to keep us thoroughly occupied doing other, more pleasant activities! Anyhow I eventually acquiesced suggesting that we utilise the glorious weather we had over the weekend to clean the decking and generally get up to date with our outside chores.

Saturday dawned and with it a certain regret to being so compliant! Anyway off we went to Costco to buy a power hose in order to beat our decking into submission. Oh my living! What a day. I was already over it half way through watching Americo try to connect the pipes to the contraption. However, being the delightful wife that I am .. I put my book down, changed into my bikini and scrubbed and sweated alongside my husband. I did not even complain (MUCH) when he stood behind me criticising my deck cleaning technique. Finally, after hours of busyness the decking was clean (not so Americo and I!) and we sat back, cigarette in hand surveying our hard work.

Sunday, yet another spectacular day, we sat eyeing out the horrid apple tree that grows in our neighbour’s yard. It may grow in their yard but due to sunlight issues actually spreads its branches all over our patch dropping bitter, hard green apples, creating a bit of an obstacle course. So having discussed with them (the neighbour) we hacked down the offending limbs, now ruining or cleaning efforts, and spent Sunday chopping up the branches for disposal. Americo, now well in the mood then suggested we tackle the front garden.

Here is where it all goes horribly wrong! Our front postage stamp is prolific with weeds, one has actually grown so huge it has raised it’s head above the windowsill and has been enjoying all kinds of night-time viewing with us. Clearly this had to be sorted but with my contempt of dirty hands I ask you.. was I really the person for the job? All is well that ends well though as our garden now looks lovely with all the weeds having been ruthlessly yanked out of their earthen home.

To end here is a funny little something that I got in an e-mail – had me chuckling for ages!!

FRIDAY!

Good news – the Windy One is to be moved as of next week; and not a moment too soon I might add! In the last fortnight things have gotten to a frustrating level where I find myself debating the sense of making it into the office.

Unfortunately now that I am a committed married lady I cannot be quite as flighty as I once was. Where as before if I found myself “surrounded by idiots” (in the words of Scar from the Lion King), I would simply smile smugly, safe in the knowledge that I could walk whenever I had had enough. Unfortunately now that I have a mortgage I have to be slightly more circumspect although Americo does, on occasion, have to remind me of this. It is true, I don’t have much of a work ethic but in a perverse way this actually makes me a better worker.

It would take an age to explain the twisted logic of my comment but it goes something like this… As I am never particularly desperate to be in a job, my work is always of the best standard for the simple fact that I have CHOSEN to work here! Simple, really.

This weekend is about to be the start of a (hopefully) glorious summer. We are celebrating this beginning, with much hard work… Americo has been harassing me to keep a weekend free to attend to the garden. So tomorrow is fully dedicated to cleaning, scrubbing, pulling and generally getting grubby! I am trying to contain my enthusiasm but finding it a bit of a struggle…

SPRING

At last Spring has Sprung! Sunday was our first day, this year, to sit outside in the sunshine and have breakfast. As Americo sat there eating a hearty meal he was blissfully unaware of my mind taking in the garden. Or what will shortly be a garden…

I have grand designs for our little patch of earth and am eager to put my husband to work. Unfortunately, with things related to dirt, I have a slight phobia … I hate my hands getting dirty.

This poses a slight problem, as how can you garden without getting in amongst the muck? Gloves! I hear you say .. but you would be incorrect, I have learned from experience that once my gloves get dirty I still need to start in and wash my hands and so the cycle goes on.

Luckily all is not lost, as I chose the most understanding of men who fully appreciates my dilemma, and does not mind one bit that I shall be directing operations from a safe distance…. Preferably with a PIMMS in hand! Perhaps a little bit of wishful thinking on my part!