Good deeds

Kneeler’s knee, bulb planter’s blisters, bramble scratches, pyracantha lacerations, aching back. Cracking day.

The village looks a little prettier.   Well, a little less neglected. The village committee assembled at 9am. And it ending up being just Jean Daniel and me.   But his enthusiasm with a pick and shovel just about makes a tribe of any fey gardeners.   We have launched ourselves into neglected beds, removed trees, cut back a forest of rosemary, and even uncovered a lost garden bed that was hidden under builder’s rubble.

I don’t know why I ever think it’s just going to be a gentle morning’s bulb planting.

Still we did some great work. And it will be a treat in springtime when the bulbs emerge.

And the fun of working at the village is just how many people are about.   There were a group of villagers working in the undercroft of the village hall preparing duck portions.

I know, wierd or what. But I peeped up from the lost bed we were weeding to see a production line of people and a huge teetering pile of duck bodies.   If I were a real journalist I’d have gone up and asked them what they were doing. I suspect there was something christmassy about the production, but I had enough to do just trying to remove the weeds.

We finished the work appropriately with a mighty bonfire. But I saved a lot of the willow branches from one of the beds to put through the chipper at home.