Lunchtime already and I can’t quite think what on earth I have done so far to merit news. The delivery of sand arrived, and the cement and the metal bars. But that didn’t take long as Nicolas has set the tarpaulin in place for the delivery man. Lots of gossip from him as he hasn’t delivered here for a bit.
And then I tidied up the east lawn: all the quince prunings are now in a teetering pile in the courtyard waiting for the chipping. And picked up my body weight in pine cones. Some for the fireplace box for fire starters, some in the compost bins which are now full. And the rest in the reserve compost bin at the top of the drive where all things I can’t think how to use to go to die.
Ah yes, I gassed myself. Now I remember. Had to spray the mulberry tree with Bordeaux mix. The French farmer in the Ardeche’s answer to all things. There is a dodgy white growth on some of the branches of the mulberry tree and I suspect it’s spreading. So now the entire tree is dripping with a fine spray of bouillie bordelaise (copper sulphate) and let’s hope it halts the spread.
Although the day is utterly gorgeous and up to 9C, there was a slight headwind as I stood on the ladder and zapped every branch. So some has decorated my person, but not with too many risks to my health. Most people take in trace elements of the stuff every time they open a bottle of wine. It’s the vigneron’s drug of choice as well.
Over lunch I shall write up a huge list of things to do for this spring cleaning and then as soon as I have digested, I shall burst out the door, sunhat on head, and spring in my step to seize the day.