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Who pruned all the fruit trees, to which Genesis refers?
Don't you just hate those jobs that develop into multiple jobs as soon as you start them, like some sort of housework-hydra ? For instance, you go to clean out the fridge, notice the floor needs mopping and before you know where you are it's three days later and you're concreting the drive.
This morning, I set out to play a little car-chess. This is the game that's necessary to get my car off the drive,![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
hendybear's car onto the drive, and mine back on again in such a way that my car remains accessible while he's away on holiday.
With two cars on the drive, the overgrowth of the smoke bush (Cotinus coggygria, I think, commonly known in this house as "that bastard plant") meant that you couldn't reach the front door without interacting heavily with a tree. So I went to the shed to get the secateurs.
On the way up the side-passage to the front garden, I paused to cut back the honeysuckle which was preventing me from opening the garden gate easily. Since I had the secateurs, I also hacked down quite a lot of the hydrangea in the front garden. It had grown across the side path and when you're, for example, taking the bins out it attacks your legs. If it's been raining (which it will have been) it also showers your shins in water.
I got round to the smoke bush, and hacked quite a lot of its branches off. Then I remembered that we probably have visitors who are taller than me, and hacked off some more. You'll notice that I'm not saying "prune" at any stage. Pruning suggests jugdement and careful trimming. It suggests something which is done for the good of the plant. This was straightforward horticultural massacre in the interest of the residents.
While I had gloves on, I thought I'd deal with the dandelions, willow herb and other miscellaneous weeds which are growing in between the paving slabs on the driveway and giving the house such an air of wasteland chic.
Once they were grubbed up, it became obvious how much damp litter had drifted onto the drive, so I picked all that up, and then went to find a broom, and swept up the bits of leaf I'd scattered around. And put all the trimmings into the recycling sack so the council can take them away and melt them down to make new plants, and carried the sack back into the garden to wait for the next collection. I only went out to move the sodding cars.
I then tore myself away from gardening, ignoring the windfall apples that need collecting, the creeper-and-bindweed combo that must be quelled before it eats the shed, the lawn that needs mowing (no chance of that: see Deluge, Great) and the further incursions of weeds between the slabs of what we laughingly call a patio. I resisted their blandishments, so I could get back indoors and... hoover the stairs, put things in the attic, get some washing on...
Wasn't being big meant to be more fun than this ? Stay up as late as you want, they said. Ice cream every day, they said. Bah.
This morning, I set out to play a little car-chess. This is the game that's necessary to get my car off the drive,
hendybear's car onto the drive, and mine back on again in such a way that my car remains accessible while he's away on holiday.With two cars on the drive, the overgrowth of the smoke bush (Cotinus coggygria, I think, commonly known in this house as "that bastard plant") meant that you couldn't reach the front door without interacting heavily with a tree. So I went to the shed to get the secateurs.
On the way up the side-passage to the front garden, I paused to cut back the honeysuckle which was preventing me from opening the garden gate easily. Since I had the secateurs, I also hacked down quite a lot of the hydrangea in the front garden. It had grown across the side path and when you're, for example, taking the bins out it attacks your legs. If it's been raining (which it will have been) it also showers your shins in water.
I got round to the smoke bush, and hacked quite a lot of its branches off. Then I remembered that we probably have visitors who are taller than me, and hacked off some more. You'll notice that I'm not saying "prune" at any stage. Pruning suggests jugdement and careful trimming. It suggests something which is done for the good of the plant. This was straightforward horticultural massacre in the interest of the residents.
While I had gloves on, I thought I'd deal with the dandelions, willow herb and other miscellaneous weeds which are growing in between the paving slabs on the driveway and giving the house such an air of wasteland chic.
Once they were grubbed up, it became obvious how much damp litter had drifted onto the drive, so I picked all that up, and then went to find a broom, and swept up the bits of leaf I'd scattered around. And put all the trimmings into the recycling sack so the council can take them away and melt them down to make new plants, and carried the sack back into the garden to wait for the next collection. I only went out to move the sodding cars.
I then tore myself away from gardening, ignoring the windfall apples that need collecting, the creeper-and-bindweed combo that must be quelled before it eats the shed, the lawn that needs mowing (no chance of that: see Deluge, Great) and the further incursions of weeds between the slabs of what we laughingly call a patio. I resisted their blandishments, so I could get back indoors and... hoover the stairs, put things in the attic, get some washing on...
Wasn't being big meant to be more fun than this ? Stay up as late as you want, they said. Ice cream every day, they said. Bah.
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I spent part of today sawing the bottom off our bathroom door, which was fun until I hit a knot and the blade went "wonk!"