Plodding, dull but necessary work.
I had rather hoped I would be in the car at first light roaring down the valley to the plant nursery. But alas they are closed for the holidays.
I felt so thwarted. But actually I realised that the planting of trees is glamorous and fun. But clearing the pile of sand, gravel and soil from the courtyard was the necessary chore this week.
We are planning on getting the courtyard repaired around the end of February, builders willing, so we need to shift this soil.
And boy was there ever a time I could have waved a wand and put a Hogwarts education into practise this would have been today. Instead I needed to get the pile into buckets and taken down the dozen steps beside the potager and plonked the soil on the paths.
And then it was just up and back, up and back, ferrying soil.
By day’s end I have calf muscles that are singing with fatigue, arms slightly longer than when I started. But almost three paths done.
That feels great. But not as great as the first glug of beer that went down a few minutes ago.