Miracle

I ran out of time to write my blog yesterday, but it was just as well. The superlatives would have flowed fast and thick had I jotted down my thoughts when I came indoors from a long day in the garden. Twenty four hours later my emotions are somewhat muted though my memories still dazzle me. It was a fabulous day, hot with little wind, but when it did whisper across the fields and over my labouring body it was cooling and welcome. A far cry from earlier in the week when it had a frosty sharpness to its edges. But what really boosted my spirits was that, after staring with a petrified bleakness and helplessness at the weeds in the bottom bed just two days earlier when I despaired of ever getting in control of the garden, suddenly it was virtually all done. Val came on Tuesday for two hours and that helped but hers was more moral support than actual work done. I've been battling with those weeds and, much worse, the grass that still grows thickly there from when that area was part of the lawn, for several weeks. I've made progress, huge progress, but the work is horrible and I've wanted to get on with other jobs. Was this to be my fate every year, plucking renegade, tenacious clumps of grass out of the soil? I seriously wondered if I'd made a mistake taking on a donkey paddock and trying to turn it into a garden. But hey presto! the area was suddenly mostly clear and for the last hour I was able to go back over the other beds I cleared several weeks ago and root out the strays. I was exhilarated, thrilled. The rest of the work I enjoy, dogged garden creature that I am. It will be normal service from now on.

By 7pm I was tired but I wanted to reward Hugo for his patience over a long day so we drove to the woodland walk for a run. There's an ease to walking after being hunched over a fork or a hoe all day, and I enjoyed striding out and having a stretch, watching the boy having fun. Back home again I was only interested in a glass of cold Sauvignon. The sun was still a way off setting, so I took my drink down to the summerhouse and lay back on my lounger, admiring how far I've come in the garden. It's still only 7th April for heaven's sake! The beds are clear, the dahlias are potted and in the summerhouse waiting for growth to appear before being planted out, the roses are all pruned, the pond is planted and clear. I've cleaned the bottom area and just have the two terraces to do. All I need now are some greenfly and a few slugs to make the situation more normal. I took great sips of chilled wine and sighed with pleasure, Hugo asleep and twitching at my feet. It truly felt miraculous to be exactly where I was.