There is nothing quite like the impetus garnered from knowing that the warmer weather is coming, to get you cracking on jobs around the garden.
And I can tell you there is no shortage of jobs – evident from the significant lack of posts this month.
And last month.
And the month before.
The last decent day of weather that coincided with being able to get into the garden was the 11th of September when I buried the majority of our tree off-cuts into the main garden bed. There has been a lot of work going on, and after a decent bit of input into the garden yesterday, it still appears like not much has changed. Disappointing and not very inspiring. After another burst of energy today, things should start to look a little different.
Since the start of September I have watched as each day the willow tree in the park across the road pushes out a little more green from its buds. It is now fairly well covered in new leaves and as they lengthen it will once again shade the play area beneath it. It is an amazing phenomena for me, to be able to watch on a daily basis as it transforms.
The one thing I have noticed that is remarkably different this year are the freesias. Normally, in previous years they are out by mid August. This year it was mid September by the time I noticed the first ones coming up. This past week they are up all around town in great quantity, though oddly enough, not in as many varied colours as other years. Mainly just a light cream colour. Just an observation.
Yesterday we sold the old trailer. One of the last, large relics of ‘days on the farm’. It went without much of a hitch (Pun intended Tony T!) – and how awesome it felt to have this large object out of our front yard. Previous to this it had been stored with furniture in a friends shed. Gradually, we have removed these things from our life.
Last Friday I also took on the unenviable chore of sorting out our garage. It was one of the last frontiers of STUFF. Generations worth of tools and bits and pieces. I did the one thing I knew I should do – and gutted the whole inglorious pile out onto our drive-way for the passing world to view in all its dusty, cob-webbed crappiness. I then sealed the concrete floor with several layers of sealant and set up shelves and work benches. It was a race against the clock. The weather was perfect for the job and by sundown I had most of the stuff back in the garage, having roughly sorted it into piles and filling the back of the car full of stuff as well.
It’s been a really tough two months for me. The Little Fellas have been bringing home all sorts of wonderful medical challenges from school. Bugs and viruses and things that make your skin crawl. Gran has been on a bit of a medical roundabout again, which we seem to go through on a cyclic basis. This has taken up a fair bit of Mrs P’s time, plus Mrs P is also putting in a huge amount of time towards her Guide unit. Plus a bunch of local guides are heading to an International Jamboree in Sydney very soon, so there has been a heap of time go towards the preparation for that also.
I took out my old guitar one afternoon after about seven years of child-raising and it seemed that no sooner had I made acquaintance again, that the friendship was slipping away. There was house work to do and bugs were taking over our children and Gran needed days upon days of blood tests and doctors appointments. It is called, I believe, the Drama Of Life. The guitar sat in the corner again.
Frazzled, I took a much need break for a few hours to a friends place to take in the scenery and hear the bees buzzing and catch up on conversation with an adult that doesn’t talk kids, or drop in and out of topics like Gran. Gran can talk in kind of a train wreck-style of conversation jumping about and causing collisions in conversation and thought processes. I think it’s part hearing induced, part laziness. Part not remembering. Sometimes I think back to the before time when adults used to say that ‘television will rot your brains!’ Sometimes I think Gran has become a part of a large social experiment.
But I came back inspired, and a little more equipped to keep on keeping on. Pushing out like the willow tree. Keep the chin up and the humour happening.
So I’ve really only managed to tread water it feels. Frustrating, overwhelming and feeling very much powerless against these things. The one thing I can do is just keep going. So I keep going.
Doing what I can.
When I can.
Where I can.
Not in any particular order. Not even by any particular priority anymore. Ten minutes here. A half hour there. Relentlessly it seems.
And in my spare time, I go to work.