The fruits of Labour!

Remember I said I'd made a pile of rubbish? Here's all that dead stuff waiting to be burnt or shredded or whatever we decide to do with it - this is the stuff that didn't go in the wheelie bin, now crammed to the brim. Here is where all the edible stuff will be grown one day, with a base for a greenhouse in the right hand corner for magic propagation mysteries. Just beyond is the badger's dell where, this morning, had you been watching you would have seen three middle aged ladies peering dolefully at Badger Citadel from whence a mournful deep underground barking was echoing! "Oscar", a very important name for a rather small and grubby (when he finally emerged) West Highland terrier from several doors down, had been expeditioning beyond both his territory and his ageing hearing. I was alerted to his presence when an increasingly desperate wailing, which had been going on for some time, finally penetrated my absorption in my new hobby - of which more later! Having established that Oscar was far from home and causing his owners some anguish, a rescue party was assembled and said Oscar, after some more piercing shouting and whistling, finally appeared, with a great heave and struggle, from the deep underground, thoroughly pleased with himself and no longer very white!

Since I had been drawn from indoor pursuits, I spent several happy hours in the garden. More winter detritus was cleared and more little sprouting things found. As the sun slowly moved down in the sky I lay on my sun warmed seat and soaked up those rays, really warm despite the occasional chilly breeze. Then did a slow walk round with my camera, taking note of the lovely things that are appearing everywhere.

 

It is such s pleasure to scrape back moss and thatch, leaves and scruff, to find little pockets of geranium, primrose and crocus,

while the soft shell pink of the bergenia just needs the evening light to bring out its beauty

This ground has been neglected for some years, yet still underground there were roots, bulbs, corms, networks of living matter silently waiting for spring.

The vivid green shoots above are nestled under this rhododendron whose moss covered bole gives me such pleasure I want to stoop down and stroke it each time I pass. there was one solitary snowdrop at its base earlier last month.

But before I went out, this is what was so deeply absorbing me

I allowed myself to try the weaving class and am fascinated.