Lamentable

That was the mot du jour among my French pals at the market this morning. Lamentable weather. It’s the same word in any language. And it’s very tahsome.

You could be charitable and call it sunhine and showers. But we aren’t seeing enough sunshine to feel benevolent towards the showers.

It rains every day.

I managed to tick a few things off my list: I weeded the steps in the courtyard. And it involved digging out festuca glauca grasses with fingernails and knives.

And then I thought I’d wander down to the plum bank and weed the thyme. That would be a nice quick job before lunch, I thought.

I love these plants.  Thyme balls which do as they are told and never need watering.  But they are growing so lushly in all this unseasonal rain they are flopping.  Were I not trying to keep them for a potential photoshoot, I’d give them all a severe haircut and dry all the leaves.

As it is I’m trying my best to prop up the worst of the floppy plants with stones.

And then I weeded. And weeded. And weeded. I didn’t mind pulling out the unwelcome weeds in among the rosemary and perovskia on the second bank.  But it was when I stood back to admire my work and looked aghast at the stone wall above.

To say it was festooned with brambles is not an exaggeration.  They were piling out of every crevice.  And the bad news is I have only one glove left in my possession that can take the bramble onslaught.

And with heavy showers every half hour or so, the leather became wet.

And so did I. I was disheartened. And dirty. Wet jeans, wet gloves, and worst of all, discouraged. And believe me, I rarely get discouraged.  But this season of cold weather with rain feels endless.

I was away for the blessed and glorious ten days of sunshine. Everyone tells me about that. Instead I get the bad stuff. And my To Do List grows ever longer.

And what of his royal highness?  I swear he did not move for 14 hours today. He took one look at the weather and retreated to the potting shed.

The temperature in there was 20C  and steamy. Were I not on the clock I would have joined him.  Well, not on his fleece. but I could easily have curled up on the chaise longue with a book.

But no. I trekked back and forth with wheelbarrows full of weeds.  I helped Jean Daniel with gravel, I did the first vacuum of the pool. It’s green.  And yearn to start tomorrow with a cheerier story to tell.