Ducks away 001 Wm


Signs of the times


Metal pheasant 002 Wm[fusion_builder_container hundred_percent=


All tucked up ready for winter




 It’s injury time again.

Extensive google research suggests that I might have sustained a metatarsophalangeal joint sprain. Turf Toe to you and me. I followed one of those diagnostic flowcharts that starts off with.. “have you had the disability since you were born?” proceeding through several alternative causal scenarios to “did you fall down some steps and stub your toe?” Sadly, yes. It’s so called because apparently footballers are prone to the same condition. Rugby and baseball players too as it happens. Beats housemaid’s knee eh. There is no mention of extreme gardeners but henceforth they really should be included, don’t you think? At the time all I thought I’d done was bruise a knee. The toe problem didn’t manifest itself for at least another hour. It’s a bummer because there’s an event at Rosemoor this weekend and I really want to go. At the moment, as it stands (or not), I can barely walk.

The solution, from above mentioned exhaustive research, is total rest and I have five days. This of course means that I’ll have to be waited on hand and foot (no pun) until healing takes place. Mike is slowly getting into the routine. He climbed the stairs with a medicinal Pinot twice last night and fully expects that the coffee rota will be all his now too. Nor will I be attempting the 84 steps to meet the grocery delivery man.




But we did achieve a lot yesterday until disaster struck.


Plant creche 001 Wm[2]


The days are getting shorter, temperatures have dropped, autumn rains have arrived and it’s unlikely the clay soil will dry out again until next Spring. The end of the season is fast approaching for any major advancements in garden redesign. So, having cleared the veggie raised beds, all my purchases still languishing in pots have gone in there. Hopefully they will be happier for it and it will save me hurtling round the garden plucking pots from far flung corners after each and every gale.


Alpine shelter 001 Wm[2]


Bulbs are all safely ensconced in the ground, buried in wire mesh cages in a bid to defeat the mice. It does seem to be working, at least until the new shoots poke up above the soil. The alpine trough covers are back in place. Assorted pots of tender perennials have booted the tomatoes out of the greenhouse.

It’s a good feeling to be ready for winter. If we do get balmy days and the ground dries out sufficiently there’s no shortage of weeding to keep me meaningfully employed. But, toe or no toe, nothing that can’t now wait until Spring.


Autumn leaves 013 Wm[1]


Autumn in the woodland