Oh dear. Ouch! Sitting on the bench in the Wattle Woods crying my eyes out. One of the huge Wattle logs I'm shifting had rolled back out of the wheelbarrow, landing on the calf of my leg. Enter Winnie the sympathetic puppy to lick away my tears. Well, for about five seconds. Thank you so much, Winnie. Then off she scampered, returning with a tennis ball. She loves me, I love her, so I had to cheer up and throw the jolly thing, didn't I?
Wednesday 18th February
Anyway, I continued trudging around doing my gardening while my leg got sorer and sorer. So unfair to be stymied by a calf injury (am always so careful of my hands and fingers). Decided to check the leg, alarmed to see a huge baseball sized swelling. Eek! Aha! Remembered about ice treatment, so stood in the (cold) water race. Weeded for half an hour. Further checked leg. Ouch.
Remembered 'elevation', so came inside, propped leg up, and watched some TV news. Awful. Fighting, invading, killing, just plain nasty stuff. Winnie happily chewed her bone, and the swelling in my leg went slowly down. Look, I know this is small stuff, injury-wise, but I'm a pain wimp, and I hate being out of action.
I went back in the water to trim Phormiums and pull out Oenothera (Evening Primroses, beautiful self-seeding yellow flowers). I dug out a rogue juvenile Gunnera, and found several small Pittosporum seedlings which I will pot up for the Welcome Garden. Then my sunscreen started running into my eyes. Oh, woe, woe, woe. What a sorry day! I begin to realise just how much walking around I do. Oh well. Will read my book, may even put the air conditioning on.
Thursday 19th February
The leg? Fairly good today, thank you. I await a saucer-sized bruise, and expect the colours to be spectacular. And the gardening? Brilliant. I spent the first couple of hours tidying the house gardens. I dug out over-sized Anemanthele (this lovely grass always leaves seedlings behind), and pruned thorny canes of New Dawn and Compassion so the path to my front door is passable. I trimmed the Corokia and the Hebe.
A Non-Furry Under-Gardener!
Then my under-gardener arrived. How absolutely lovely! Non-furry gardening company! Our designated area was behind the pond, and the look quickly improved from messy scruff to sparkling greenery with an inviting, meandering, passable waterside path. Later I returned to continue the good work, raking up piles and piles of gum tree leaves.
- Rhododendron Spring Dance :
- In the rhododendrons section I'm busy boasting about how tough Spring Dance is. Oops.
But I found several plants behind the pond in trouble. The rhododendron Spring Dance may have stepped out for the last time - oops. I've left the watering hose on it. I dug out a rose which has never climbed, and two variegated Coprosmas which have magically stayed exactly the same size for twelve years. No, this is not magic, this is neglect!
Fifteen clumps of miniature Agapanthus which were lining the path route are now in my wheelbarrow. The poor things were smothered in gum leaves and bark, and never saw any sun with which to show off their pretty blue flowers...
Winnie by the Agapanthus
In between bursts of gardening I'd throw the tennis ball for Winnie, trying to avoid any of the pond-side gnomes. Inevitably Rusty (pulling dog-rank) would steal it. Then he'd get bored, and Winnie would reappear. 'Plop!' The tennis ball would drop at my feet. Over and over and over. Imagine if people enjoyed repetition as much as dogs do. How wonderful their gardens would look!
Near the end of the day I noticed the tennis ball hadn't been delivered for a while. Oh dear. Where was Winnie? I wandered around the paddocks and gardens calling her. No sign. Where? Winnie! After a fruitless quarter of an hour searching I gave up and wandered into the house. Aargh! I was met with the most disgusting smell, and young Winnie lying on the rug happily munching the stinky carcass of a long-dead rabbit.
Thank heavens and three cheers for 'No Vac Fresh Pet', the wonder spray-on deoderiser for carpets. And for roses and sweet peas, which I picked to freshen up the air in the kitchen. And (shame, shame) I threw the stinky rabbit downstream in the water race to float out of sight (and nose), and out of mind. Now we are off to buy an outdoor table with four benches for the top patio. Groovy!
Friday 20th February
OK. It's already afternoon, and all I've done is go swimming, go to the Charity Shop, and then wait for an AA Road Service vehicle to unlock my car (I left the keys inside). I've fed the kittens, put the hoses on, and watered the dogs, so to speak. Now a quick cup of tea to christen my new patio furniture (it's rather chunky and country-robust).
New Patio Furniture
And then - what to do first, while listening to the cricket? Continue the clean-up behind the pond? Saw down some dead tree branches in the Pond Paddock? Or stay inside and write a schmaltzy, smoochy arrangement of 'Moon River' for my jazz choir?
I've been listening to the cricket while throwing the tennis ball for Winnie while planting the miniature Agapanthus, a clump of sad Kniphofias, and a rose called Rambling Rector, AKA Non-Rambling Rector. Well, he's certainly been sluggish so far. And I've worked Moon River out (in my head). Fabulous lyrics, beautiful song. Needs good vowels, though.
The Moosey Cricketers
Regarding the cricket - England have just been bowled out for a paltry 123 runs. Yet still, as a nervous New Zealand team fan, I'm too scared to watch our run chase. So I'm recording the rest of the match, and have chosen instead to do some TV couch-cycling in Andalusia. If we win, then I watch us winning. So silly!
Fine Leg Report...
And the leg? That lucky leg which didn't break (eek) or get crushed? The biggest of bruises is just starting to show up from knee to ankle. Stand by - when the colours are more saturated I might even post a 'bruise-selfie'.