I have been dreaming of compost. I’m not sure why.
After the recent winds came the rain. Slowly. But it really hit this afternoon and then settled in. I heard the tank pump working this morning and I’m sure it would have pumped more water up to the header tanks by this afternoon. The neighbours confirmed about 6-7 mm yesterday (Sat 26th, 20019) so I’m sure this afternoon delivered a good deal more.
I know it’s only the coming of winter, but so far we’ve done ok. In as much as, so far the house has done exceptionally well at keeping us comfortable. Gran has not made comment yet on feeling the cold unless she has been out and about.
I’ve enjoyed our autumn this year, though I feel much of it has been spent as an observer of the beautiful sunny days as I’ve worked, rather than getting out into it. But anyway, there will be time for this later and the glimpses of beautiful weather has not gone by without appreciation and gratitude.
The Muse is happy also. There is a small stockpile of deciduous leaves, mulched tree branches, saw dust, cardboard and assorted other piles of waste paper and cardboard items ready for the raised garden beds. Plus there was a little bit of progress with moving sand recently (in amongst everything else) so the promise of the first bed being completed some time soon appears eventual. Happy Muse. These resources lay in waiting. Small pots and containers of edibles are greening up and thriving. The compost bins that we started early in spring are shut down now, simply sitting and maturing. Ready also for their addition to the alchemy of what will be the raised garden bed soil.
So I am eager to get some further progress on the beds happening so that we can move the rabbits and compost bins and tidy up more of the awaiting, bulk resources that lay piled up around the place. There is the sound of rain on the tin roof as I lay in bed. The whisper of a breeze, the restlessness of a rabbit in the winter dark. The frogs are starting to sing. The Muse is happy. Finally, the rain has come.