They're gone. Am I capable of running my life
without them? Helen did 3/4s of the shopping and cooking while they were here, and all of everything else.
We had a grand time, in grand weather
except for a brief, apocalyptic thunder storm. The boys were on their
way up to Whitefield
at the time. While they were sheltering as best they could under a
tree, Archie saw lightening strike, a few yards away. A flash of
flame in the grass. The other two were looking in the other direction
and missed it. They heard it, all right. Fergus threw himself to the
ground. I have never seen such a thing in a long life.
But otherwise, the sun shone. I got a
bit of gardening done, rescuing rhubarb and some unproductive fruit
bushes from the weeds and mulching them. How rapidly nature reclaims
a neglected garden! It was sad to see. However, the Good King Henry
flourishes, we even ate some, and I had had our new gardener put in a
few potatoes. They look very tidy. I've now dug about half of them.
They taste delicious, too.
Alas, the birds got the summer pudding
again this year. Helen had seen it the week before, and decided that
it was securely netted and that the fruit would hold for a week. But
no. The bush was bare. I bought some red currents at the supermarket
and we had a pudding, but it wasn't the same.
Not much knitting. I did finish the
first full pattern repeat of Carol
Sunday's Oak Park scarf. That means that all
the yarn is at last wound into balls. Things should go faster
henceforth. We will be back fairly soon, for the Games. I suppose
after that I'd better bring it back here to add to the Guilt Pile.
...That much I wrote yesterday morning,
and then Sunday took over as it tends to do. Helen and the boys are now safely back in
Athens, and James Miles of Cairndow (who has been in the UsofA)
restored to Loch Fyne. Nothing to do now except wait for A-Level and
GCSE results – most of my grandchildren seem to be involved, this
year – and look forward to the Games.
We've been back here in Edinburgh for
three evenings by now, and I have weakly allowed myself to knit Unst
Bridal Shawl edging. But today I will Take Hold of Life and get back
to Rams and Yowes.
I hope to have some better pictures for
you when Helen and Alexander send me theirs. Here are some to start
off with.
My husband wanted the blackthorn
subdued. It flourishes in the wild bit just beyond our garden fence and is rather lovely when it blooms but he is implacably opposed to it. Helen kept her boys hard at it. Here am I, next to a pile of
subdued blackthorn.
Mungo and Archie, pausing in their
labours.
There weren't enough clippers for all
three, so Fergus was put to work scything the grass between the front
lawn and the burn. He did brilliantly.
You can see what I mean about the weather.
Such a pleasure to have you back in touch.
ReplyDeleteAll are home safe, some garden tidying done, yarn wound. All's right with the world, so have at the shawl, I say. Nature is reclaiming our garden faster than we can weed, these days. I've mulched heavily where possible, but the perennial beds are a sight. (She says, looking out the screenhouse window and knitting another row.)
ReplyDeleteWelcome back! You were truly blessed with the weather. Glad you enjoyed your time there and had a chance to enjoy the company of your family.
ReplyDeleteIt must have been a very nice break from meal preparation for you while you were away. Your Helen and my Rebekah would get along well I think. I looked up blackthorn to see if it is the same thing as blackberry, and it's not, although they both have nasty thorns. How nice that you had so many helpers while you were at Strathardle.
ReplyDelete