Big Plans

I've spent much of today making a scale drawing of my garden, the better to help me decide where to go from here. I stuck 6 sheets of A4 paper together, and then laboriously measured the distance between everything and everything else outside. I scaled down all of the figures by a factor of 10, and then multiplied by 2 to create a big enough shape to fit my paper nicely. I may have been influenced by Jessie Burton's The Miniaturist which I am currently reading. But the idea came from a friend who said it would help me see how to evolve the garden. She's artistic and it might have helped her. But as I proudly finished my plan and stared at it it was as clear as mud. Lines and shapes and hatching and crossed paving, all completely meaningless to me!!! I enjoyed the job but I might as well not have bothered.

I've not exactly been invaded but certainly visited by flies every time I open the back door, and have already broken two fly swats. Dead bodies litter every surface. Then I remembered the fly screen we had in Wilby, a brilliant device that attached to three small hinges and had a magnetic lock, and allowed you to leave the door open in summer, and then be put away for the winter. As in that house, I have masses of storage space here. So I rang the company that makes them, conveniently located in Fram, and they're coming to measure up. How wonderful it will be to have air in the kitchen which is currently stifling. The door can stay open all day and the flies can peer through the screen but not have access. There's always a solution if you just try to think laterally.

A magical light

The barley field is still intact. Last night the light shining on it was so extraordinary that I took a photo, but even with my new camera I haven't captured the sheer brilliance. Every day it remains uncut is a bonus for me but it can't be long now. Should I start fretting about the dust that will settle on my gleaming pond when they begin the harvest, or just let it happen? D'you know what? I think the latter.