I am no garden expert. I wouldn’t even say that I particularly like gardening, but I do love being in the garden. And the work does give me feeling of having done something good and useful.
Breaking for a cup of coffee to be drunk outdoors while reviewing the work done and to be done. Holding an impromptu picnic by the pond, wrapped up in our wellies and fleeces. It feels so good. It tastes so good.
Yesterday while cutting back lavender and sage and ripping out dried up marjoram, I enjoyed the scent they gave off and left on my hands. Raking up walnut shells and leaves revealed vibrant green moss beneath. The clumps that got stuck in the prongs of the rake got set aside for decorating with and for the children to play with.
That’s another one of the things about the garden that makes me happy – us all being together, but doing our own thing. Working, playing, getting creative or just sitting down for a snack outside. Easy, unforced, old-fashioned family time.
As the Bavarian chopped branches off the kiwi tree in an attempt to tame it (it grows 4m long tentacles in summer), I gathered up the ones that had become intwined in one another and separated them, carefully twisting them apart and ending up with curly wurly lengths of branch, perfect for a wreath or some Easter decorations.
Ah, full days outdoors, at last.
I suppose it is not so bad after all, gardening.
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