A rescue memory

You may remember that we have been having one or two minor cosmetic little changes major reconstruction work in our garden. And regular readers may also be aware that the chances of getting these finished any time soon are pretty slight. Imagine then, if you will, my delight at hearing these words "Hello, this is the photographer. We'd like to come on Sunday afternoon, and we'll be taking photos in the garden if it is fine". Oh deep and lasting joy.

Here are the alternatives. One, it is fine weather. We all troop outside to take photographs amidst a sea of mud, empty flower beds, dessicated shrubs and some nearly-but-not-quite finished decking. Two, it is wet. And we will have photographers roaming freely inside, looking for the perfect picturesque spot.

With that in mind, we set to to do some serious tidying. The sunroom has now doubled in size. Twirly curly which hang in the wind things have now found their permanent home in the apple tree. Spare furniture has been shifted around, we can now sit all three of us in the playroom so that all three can see the television at the same time. One day I'll find that freeview aeriel we were given and Mog will be able to watch her beloved Balamory again. Meanwhile the ever-growing stack of videos wobbles in the corner, threatening to concuss small children.

Hmm I wonder if I could make use of that? An accidental concussion might just keep Little Fish out of the way for a while. She's keen to help - over keen. I may have mentioned that one of her more regular jobs is putting the cutlery away. She knows exactly what to do, and after a fortnight without the dishwasher, she's even accepting spoons straight from a teatowel, rather than the entire cutlery rack. As it turns out, she has overgeneralised the concept. Seeing me tidying up, she rushes to help. I return to the kitchen to find Little Fish helpfully emptying the sugar bowl into the cutlery drawer. Excellent.

Meanwhile, a mysterious message on my mobile phone: "Stay in this afternoon". Tina has come to the rescue. When Goldy died, Tina offered a rose bush in her memory. We were going to collect this in March. Hearing about our plantless garden, Tina has converted this rose into something far more immediately useful. Mid afternoon, a van from our local garden centre pulls up, and four large wheelchair-proof pots are delivered, full of the most beautiful spring flowers. Daffodils and pansies, moss and ivy and conifers and undidentifyable (by me) little mini bits of shrubbery. All green and living, in stark contrast to the many pots of dead trees dried herbs currently scattered across the remains of the garden. Beautiful and practical and enough of them that I can't possible kill them all of can I? Or at least, probably not before Sunday. Whether the plants themselves last or not, the pots will remain and I can fill them with different disposeable plants according to the seasons. And will remember Goldy every time I do.

So thanks, Tina, and I hope I haven't embarrassed you too much by mentioning them. No photos just yet; I have computer issues and no chance whatsoever of staying connected long enough to upload them.

Tia