The Saga of the Sore Finger...
My day started off wonderfully, painlessly. A beautiful waking-up, drinking a slow cup of tea on the cottage verandah. The garden gently drenched from yesterday's steady rain (27mm), the sun shining, the birds swooping low over the pond, the gnomes going quietly about their business. Speckles the stray cat sitting with me, the fur down his back spiky and wet.
- Speckles :
- Meet Speckles, the stray feral cat I've been feeding for over a year.
But he is definitely not a Catholic cat. Decided to practice a Kyrie I am singing soon in a concert. 'Ky-ri-eee, Ky-ri-eee' I crooned, in what I thought was a beautifully smooth and tuneful voice. Speckles's eyes widened in alarm, he jumped off the verandah, and ran away. Oops. That bad, eh?
Campion in the Hump Garden
I will wear yesterday's gardening jeans, which are filthy and covered in biddi-bids from the forget-me-nots. Great idea! Let's go then. Oops. Am not moving. I need a coffee?
Six hours later...
Oh boy. Got a small puncture wound from picking up horrible spiky branches of Gleditsia. Ouch and ouch again. Should have been wearing gloves? Yes and no. They'd have to have been leather gauntlets.
Later - Non-Gardening Partner has just arrived home from flying around up in the skies. Grabbed him to help tie a silly rambling rose back up in the Gleditsia, then sent him off for take-aways. Now it's rest up in a chair time and wait for the food to arrive. Maybe go on a Youtube train - lots of fun and no need to spend any money, hee hee. My spiked finger is sore, and will hardly move. Eek! I am supposed to be a pianist.
Campion in the Hump Garden
Next day, lunchtime...
After a fitful sleep with my swollen right hand pointy finger, I ate breakfast, took an anti-inflam pill, and went back to bed. With a headache, what's more. Am so cross with that nasty tree spiking me. Silly finger! Rude tree.
Later I sat on the patio table nursing 'The Sore Finger' and reading a big RHS Gardening book. It was rather lush and British, and told me that vegetables in a garden have 'a certain charm'. I'm thinking more that they provide good food. I don't need charm. I need to plant my dwarf beans.
Decided to take the whole day off. Impossible for a right-handed gardener to do anything worthwhile out there without a fully functioning right-hand index finger. Seems pathetic, I know, but one can hardly hold one's cup of tea!
Tuesday 15th November
Today I sat down in the garden and (almost painlessly) cleared Alkanet from the side house garden. I planted Scrophularia, pink Lavatera and red Atriplex. Also sprinkled some bean seeds along the edge of the flower border. Am pleased to report that the sore finger was a one and a half day wonder. Went on about it a bit, though! Oops.