Spider observations, and a new species for me

The garden seems to be full of spiders. The compost heap and all the paving is alive with some type of wolf spiders, and possibly more than one specie of them. I tidied the garden cupboard and evicted many 'house' spiders and most of the plant pots and trays which were hanging around on the patio have had a spider or two in them. A walk through the garden disturbs nursery web spiders. The house is still full of Pholcus phalangioides. The Golden Girl Araneus diadematus on my living room window frame survived the winter, then one day, she had disappeared, hopefully out to find food.

Strenuously brushing off some moulded plastic plant trays ready for reuse yesterday evening, their undersides full of snails, I found I'd also brushed out an egg mass in a case, which had torn. Out of the case emerged a slightly agitated female spider, so large (18-20 mm) when she uncurled, she made me jump. She was quite shy, very attached to her eggs, so I gathered them up to have a closer look.

Could this be Steatoda nobilis, the Noble False Widow? (Yes, the same one the press get so hysterical about, with horror stories of infected and necrotic bites.) I asked in the British Spider Identification group and it was confirmed. After all this time, when I'd never seen one, and if the females are this big, I'm sure I would have noticed! Come to think of it, if she has eggs, there's probably a male around, unless she's eaten him (apparently they do, sometimes). They seem to be getting more common and widespread, and this wouldn't be the first Pembrokeshire record for the species.

So, a new spider for my list. Except I don't have a list, so now I want to start one. I haven't been taking much notice of the spiders in the garden, but it would be good to identify what's here. The spider ID group is full of photos of jumping and crab spiders, to the extent where I have spider envy, as I haven't seen any here. But then, I also haven't been looking.

Meanwhile, I'll have to find this big mama a new niche, as she can't go back under the plant tray. 

Spring Steps socks

After the Hermione’s and wearing my pair of ‘Desk Drawer socks’, I decided perhaps my own ‘Everyday’ socks could be improved and that I should have a quick experiment. I didn't fancy the Stylecraft Head Over Heels 'Sugar Loaf' for a pair of my own socks (I've had enough pink for the time being from the 'Olympus' colourway used for the Hermione socks), but I wouldn't have bought the yarn if I didn't think it was quite pretty. Lovely, fresh, pastel colours would put a spring in someone's step, so I decided that this pair should go into my stock, either for sale or as a raffle prize or giveaway.

Here's the pattern:

Yarn & Needles: 4 ply yarn sock yarn on 2.75mm dpns
Cast on: 64 stitches
Cuff: 16 rounds K1P1 rib (as on the Hermione’s Everyday Socks, but fewer rounds)
Leg: 54 rounds
Heel: Priscilla Wilde’s No Mess No Fuss Short Row Heel, worked over half the total stitches (32) with 12 central stitches and 10 stitches on each side.
Work short rows back and forth, slipping the first stitch purlwise at the start of each row, leaving an additional stitch at the end of each row with a gap where the work is turned. Once there are 10 stitches on each side of the central 12 stitches, work lengthening rows, knitting or purling 'across the gap' using K2tog, then make a stitch knitwise on the RS rows, P2tog and make a stitch purlwise on the WS rows, then turning the work and slipping the made stitch purlwise to start the next row, until all the side stitches have been worked back in, and not forgetting to make stitches after the last K2tog and P2tog to end up with 32 stitches back on the heel needle.
Foot: 60 rounds
Toe: Rounder toe with a side 'band'. Decrease rows 1, 4, 7, 10, 13, 16 and then every row from 17 onwards, (or for fewer cast on stitches, 1, 4, 7, 9, 11, 13, onwards, depending on how long or round you want your toe to be) knitting the first and last stitches and working SSK on the second and third stitches, K2tog on the penultimate 2 stitches of the instep/top of the toe and sole/under toes.
When only 10 stitches are left on the heel needle, work all of the instep stitches (with the last decreases) onto a single needle and use Kitchener stitch to close the toe.

I even managed to knit a matched pair!

Verdict:

• K1P1 rib looks smart, but I think I like K2P2 rib better for the cuff. I used to do 12 rounds only (1"/2.5 cm) but think the deeper 16 rounds looks better.
• The no mess etc short row heel is certainly faster than wrapping or lifting or whatever other technique to try to tighten and gap-close short row heels, but I still find the resulting triangular heel doesn't fit me so well (although it will be fine for anyone who doesn't have big round heels like mine!) German short rows seem to give a better finish, but I prefer Cat Bordhi’s Sweet Tomato Heel, which seems to give the best finish and shape of all of them.
• I've decided I like this rounder toe better then the one I was previously working, so I'll put this on my socks from now on, but I'm not sure about the side 'band' formed by working the decreases 'one stitch in'. I wonder if it makes a difference in terms of wear.
• I arranged the yarn start for the second sock to knit a matching pair, but a variation in the yarn meant that the second toe was a little different. Best laid plans, eh?

Garden Plans - Still on the Drawing Board

I haven't drawn out neat plans for the garden yet, but had formed some definite ideas about the way the front and back gardens might look. The wisdom of living in and with your space has asserted itself recently, as my ideas have changed.

In the back garden, I had an idea for a second path curving from the left side of the patio up to the shed, which sits two-thirds of the way up the garden on the right, and branching off to (eventually) a greenhouse on the left mirroring the placement of the shed. A perspective path, it would start wider than it finished, hopefully fooling the eye into thinking the garden is longer than it actually is. However, it would have required a potager-style arrangement for the vegetable growing, and I was having difficulty envisaging how to place the fruit. Once I started sowing and planting out the vegetables, I remembered how practical it is to have fixed, rectangular beds, maximising the space to plant in blocks or rows (considering that I want lots of veg, not just the odd item here and there) and facilitating rotation and soil preparation. I couldn't make that work with a path curving through the space.

Then I became quite fascinated by the internal geometries in the garden space. The garden (excluding the patio) is approximately 9.35 x 14 metres, which is about half a standard allotment plot. The length is about 1.5 times the width, and I decided that I would divide the space into thirds; the first for the shrubs, flowers and herbs, the middle section for the veg, and the end for the shed, compost, greenhouse, and fruit (although the latter may spread slightly into the other sections). The area for the veg is going to be roughly 5.4 x 4.6 metres or approximately 24.75 square metres.  I'll need 6 beds for rotation, (1.4 x 1.7 metres to allow for narrow paths between, or perhaps 3 strips 1.4 m wide x 3.8 long, with a virtual divide halfway up each bed?)

I haven't changed my mind about having herbs close to the house, arranged in two quarter circles either side of the path. Mints, lemon balm, parsley, chives and Welsh onion on the right, where the south-side fence and the side extension cast some shade. A couple of friends have reminded me to ensure I plant the mints in a sunken pot to constrain them, but I haven't had a mint patch yet which supplies as much as I can use when I start making mint tea, tzatziki and various salads. The area is currently covered by membrane and gravel, so I hope there is soil under there, and not concrete a few inches down. On the left, in an arc around the washing line, will be the herbs which like better drainage. The heavy soil has been improved in the past as there is lots of top-dressing gravel in the soil, but it will need more grit and some horticultural sand, and probably a top-dressing of grit too.

One of the most difficult things will be choosing what to plant by way of shrubs and flowers, due to limited space. Looking at my notes, I see recurrent themes:

• sensory (primarily scent, but also colour, sound, textures, taste)
• a 'twilight/moonlight' area close to the house using white and pastel shades which reflect light and with night-scented flowers such as stocks
• richer shades between the mints and the lilac
• roses and more roses
• perhaps some dye plants?
• buddleias for the butterflies
• other food plants for insects (although when it comes to larval food plants for the butterflies and moths, it gets a bit difficult - but some sacrificial flowers such as nasturtiums might distract from the brassicas!)

Actually, that doesn't narrow things down very much, if at all! There are plants which aren't scented, which I really want to include, and excuse them on the basis of texture in terms of contrasting leaf shapes and colours, or because they attract pollinators. Things like Stachys lanata, with the silvery, furry leaves (definitely by the path in the 'moonlight' section). And although once the lime green, frothy heads are past their best and flop untidily everywhere, Alchemilla mollis (lady's mantle) is a must because of the way moisture beads and collects on the leaves - irresistible! And aquilegias, polemonium, Siberian iris, bugle, any type of poppies, cottage garden annuals such as cornflowers and nigella (love-in-a-mist). And foxgloves, Verbena bonariensis, and I might need something to continue the colour into autumn. I have lots of primulas and grape hyacinths in spring, just because they seem to like it here, but currently I have nothing for winter, scented or otherwise. I shall have to think about that. Can I make space for a small pond somewhere too?

In the front garden, I wanted to create something scented, bright and colourful which would lift the spirits of passers-by. Originally, I was inspired by Monty and Sarah Don's Jewel Garden, and envisaged bright and jewel colours (not just greening grey Britain but splashing it with multi-coloured paint!). It's quite a small space, approximately 5.3 x 4.5 metres, surrounded by a low wall on three sides and the house on the fourth side. (I've just done a double-take at those figures - it's almost the size of the veg patch!) Anyway, I thought that a rainbow mix of colour might be a bit much in the space, so decided to go with mainly shades of yellow, orange, blue, purple. Mainly, that is, because there's a crimson rose one one side of the door, which I shall pick up with a scarlet oriental poppy on the other side, and I suspect some red monarda will find its way into the planting (though I intend to keep pinks to the back garden!). A path needs to carry on across the front of the house, to the gas meter, but after that, I'll need a pathway which will give a little space and working access to the planting without being too fussy. Something based on a quarter circle, an echo of the herb arcs, considering this is almost the same size as one of the thirds of the back garden? Another thing to think about, as well as ensuring the planting has something of interest for autumn and winter.

After all the recent coverage of Chelsea and Chatsworth's show gardens, it's easy to think of gardens as things which are created, springing into being over a matter of weeks so that you can just enjoy the space and maintain it a bit, like mowing the lawn. Indeed, that's possible if you throw money and a team of landscape gardeners at the project. But, as Monty Don reminded us in this week's Gardener's World, gardening is a process. Working on my own and with next to no budget, it's going to be a long process, but between working in the garden, enjoying its produce, planning and dreaming, it will also be hugely pleasurable and fulfilling one!

Too Much and Not Enough

A drier and sunnier than average April (although only slightly warmer, and it didn't feel like it!) gave way to a drier and sunnier (and slightly warmer) than average May.  I have a 'farmer's tan' - forearms, face and V neck. I love it when my face goes freckly!

I'm still removing the blasted brambles. The patch I'd cleared about a month ago for the main lot of broad beans and peas showed a new bramble shoot the other day, so I dug it out. It was at least a foot long! I was sure I'd got all the roots out of that area, but at least it was easier to remove from the worked ground than the stuff which is coming up through grass, the shoots only noticeable when they scratch me as I walk through. I  fold and squash the bramble into and old compost bag, and then weigh it down with a brick so that the top isn't open to light and moisture. The bag is now full, because it doesn't die easily, even when it's been left to dry and wilt in the sun. Thank goodness for my big hide gauntlets!

The cats have loved the sunny, dry weather, sprawling in the grass, on bare soil, on the patio in the sun and then in the shade under the swing seat. Greebo has been poorly; he came in limping one day at the end of April, the right hind swollen and hot. He was uncomfortable rather than in pain, but I ended up taking him to the vet just in case, after he transferred the limp over the following couple of days to his left hind, then left fore, then left hind, then right hind, then left hind again. He had anti-inflammatories, and I discouraged him from jumping anywhere for a week, but he seemed happy enough limping around the place. No sooner had the limp disappeared, than he came in one morning, threw up and a couple of hours later, was miserable with abdominal pain, lethargic and growly (always a bad sign when he growls at me and won't eat!). A dash to the vets the same afternoon saw him pumped full of painkillers, anti-emetic and broad-spectrum antibiotic, in the hope we were dealing with enteritis and not something potentially nastier. A follow-up appointment the next morning saw him still a bit lethargic, but eating, drinking and purring again, so he had a week's antibiotics. He was very good about the tiny, 'palatable' tablets, daintily taking them from my fingers as if they were sweets. One morning, I was a bit slow about getting the tablet out of the blister pack and he miaowed impatiently at me. He seems fine now, although I think his old injury of his left hind when he was young (a subluxed hip and/or knee) has led to osteoarthritis, as he now sits and lies unevenly, favouring that leg.

I meant to record butterflies, but forgot, and just enjoyed seeing the first, fresh large whites, female orange tips and once, a small copper, gleaming in the sunlight. This was sometime in mid-May, I think. Since then, they have been conspicuously absent. I have also not done any moth recording. A poplar hawkmoth came into the bedroom one night, and the cats went mad trying to catch it before I managed to get it back out of the window.

The Bunyard's Exhibition and Express broad beans are flowering and are being visited by at least 2 different species of bumble bees, neither of which are Early Bees. There are plenty of those too, working over the various flowers including the thug campanula. They're not nesting in the compost heaps this year, but presumably there's another nest around somewhere.

I wrestled my bird feeder stand out of the shed several weeks ago and set it up near the pile of hedge prunings, more in order to provide a dish of water for the birds in the dry weather than to feed them (although the feed dish has been a handy receptacle for soil pests, heh heh! There you go birdies, grub up!) I put out my last net of peanuts and fat balls, more to support the nesting parents. The blackbirds didn't nest in my hedge, nor in next door's shrubbery. Mr Blackbird seemed to disappear off to a tree somewhere in the vicinity of the garages at the north end of the terrace. Mrs Blackbird was very much more elusive. Wherever the blackbirds were nesting, they came back into the garden to feed and preen, shouting at the cats if they were around. Still, Mr Blackbird is now using the hedge and the lilac as a home base to feed 2 chicks, and presumably Mrs has a chick to feed too, somewhere. The net of food didn't last long; a few of the rooks found it and one tried very hard to unhook it, pulling it up and then standing on the end to pull some more with his beak, turning and yanking it to try to get it off, but I'd made sure it would be hard to remove. The jackdaws in my chimney have fledged in the past week too. The house sparrows beat everyone to it; their first chicks must be at least a month old now. The alpha male was strutting around importantly for about a week, while guiding the chicks around. I was quite worried for him, as he was so pumped up that he almost had no fear of me or the cats, and sat cheeping with his wings spread and tail cocked, at arms length from me as I worked in the garden.  I've seen him taking bits to the nest in the corner of my roof today, so I take it there are more chicks on the way.

The buddleias from under the washing line survived their move, as did one which had grown down into the gravel bed and then fallen over, breaking its root. One of the fuchsias has still got its leaves and is putting on new growth and I thought the others had had it, but another two have sprouted strongly from the base. I'm still trying to get the washing line to stand upright. despite wedging the spike in with bits of rubble, it somehow works loose and the line itself ends up listing. It's driving me mad. No wonder people set the spikes in concrete, I might have to do the same!

The compost (presumably my own rather than the shop-bought) has volunteered some tomato seedlings and they have been growing away strongly. I've no idea what they will be, bush or indeterminate, cherry or beefsteak, but they look happy and healthy plants so apparently they're happy outdoors. There is a tray of tomato seedlings in the growhouse, but none of the various pepper seeds have germinated. I didn't really expect the older seed to germinate, but the new little tester packs of mixed sweet peppers and a couple of different chillies should have been okay. Maybe the temperature in the growhouse is a bit too variable. Too late to resow now, as peppers really need a long growing season; I might have to buy in a couple of plants. The germination rate on the runner beans was low too, but that's okay, the germination rate on the French beans (bush and a few climbing from older seed) was great. The maincrop peas also completely failed. The seed was Hurst Greenshaft from 2 years ago, and it should still have been viable, but it just rotted, so I had to buy some more seed, (Ambassador and Vivado, since the local garden centre had sold out of Hurst) and the second sowing is just sprouting now. The earlier peas have some flowers on. The courgettes, bush and climbing beans and sweetcorn are all hardened off and waiting for me to clear some more ground, the brassicas ready to grow on, and there's the problem. The monster freestanding compost heap is at least a metre high, everything is growing like mad and the longer it takes me to dig the over the space, the more compostable material there is. Soon there will be nowhere to put it. Until, of course, it has rotted down to a beautiful rich loamy soil, and then there won't be enough of it!

As is traditional for the late May bank holiday, it poured with rain. A couple of days later, there was more rain, and spectacular thunderstorms. I lay in bed, cats snuggled against me, watching the light show outside while watching the lightning strikes appearing real time on a map (courtesy of LightningMaps.org). Since then I've only managed another couple of gardening sessions (although one was really just trying to get more bramble out rather than clearing space), it's been too wet to work. Then, last Monday's torrential rain (two inches in 24 hours!) gave way to a yellow warning of high winds on Tuesday (5-6 June), since when it's back to a spot of unsettled weather. The occasional fine half-day isn't enough to dry the soil enough to be able to work it. We needed the rain, but it's a bit all-or-nothing!

Compared to what I was used to, this space feels really small, so I shall need to get smarter about interplanting and catch-cropping. However small it feels, it's taking me forever to clear and prepare the soil. I think I've managed to clear a third of the veg area so far (because I'm also attacking the area for the flowers and herbs, which is roughly the same size, plus a 2 metre wide strip which is currently a gravel bed)

A good digging session will see about a square metre cleared; the turf taken off the top, deeper weeds dug out, hard pan broken up a bit and the various stones and bits of glass, plastic and other rubbish (most recently, the remains of a shoe!) taken out. On average, I think I manage about half a square metre at a time. But I shall clear the area, half a square metre at a time if needs be! Hopefully, it will stop raining for long enough for the soil to dry a bit and allow some more digging time!

Too much and not enough seems to be a theme at the moment. Not enough rain, then downpours. An area to clear which seems enormous, until the plants go in and eat up the space. Too much compostable material, taking a long time to create compost which will disappear across the space in no time at all. Even the cut-and-come-again salad crop doesn't come again fast enough, but I have really enjoyed being able to add my own crops, including some herbs and radishes, to my salad bowl, and love adding a mixed handful of home-grown chard, spinach and rocket to wilt down with pasta.

First garden salad of 2017, 25 May

Spring Flowers without the April Showers

The April high pressure settled in and only gave way to rainy weather a few times, so it's been a dry, cool month. Ideal gardening weather, but I had to mostly sit it out for a couple of weeks to rest my back.

I gingerly planted the short rows of pea Early Onward and broad bean Bunyard's Exhibition, grown from small 'sample packs' of seeds, creating pea supports from some of the privet branches I'd stacked after hacking back the hedge in February. I found the back pain very limiting. The slightest bend, twist or stretch and my right quadratus lumborum (QL) would go into spasm. I did some seed sowing - more broad beans, peas, a trough of cut-and-come-again salad leaves, a cauldron of rainbow radishes, rainbow chard, more sweet peas, and resowed the beetroot, which hadn't germinated from the first sowing (probably too cold, and old seed). As I pottered, I reflected that if I was out of action for long because of my back, I wouldn't have the ground ready for any of this to go into.

Bed rest and gentle exercises seemed to help. I treated myself to a cheap 'growhouse' - a tubular metal frame with shelves, topped by a transparent plastic cover with a zipped 'door', it probably gets warmer in there for anything needing to be sown 'in heat' than if I put it in the house (even if I had the space on the window ledges, which I don't). Courgettes were the first of the tender seeds to be sown, along with some sunflowers and nasturtiums, more sweet peas, more broad beans and some peas.

A friend from Saundersfoot offered me a massage to help with the back. I hadn't seen her for a few years while life got a bit busy (although we keep in touch via Facebook - love it or hate it, it is good for that sort of thing!)  She was brilliant, finding and releasing lots of painful trigger points and making sure I was comfortable. What an angel! Although I still felt a bit sore for a couple of days, it really helped. Nearly a month after injuring myself, I still get the occasional twinge, but I thought I would be out of action for a lot longer.

25th April was quite a windy day when I went to Saundersfoot, and just as I was leaving, I heard a crash from the patio, and could see the growhouse had fallen over. Later, I found it had impaled itself on the buddleia. I put it upright, but it wouldn't stay up in the wind, and each time it flew a few feet and fell over, it landed on a different pot or shrub and the cover tore again. I left it for a few days (it rained hard on the 29th and was still a bit grey and drizzly on 1st May, despite a weather forecast for dry weather!) This past week has been quite nice and dry again, so I sorted out the growhouse, put it back together, mended the cover, re-potted the spilled and now sprouting seeds it contained. (Almost everything was okay, except for the peas, of which there was no trace at all!) Then I found some bubble-wrap to go around a paving slab, which I put in the centre of the bottom shelf. To hell with whatever the weight limit is supposed to be, try falling over with that weight in the base! It was tested by the extremely brisk easterlies a couple of days ago and stood firm. It now also contains sweetcorn, French and runner beans and Florence fennel.

During the couple of weeks I was 'resting', everything seemed to burst into bloom. The dandelions, which I had been persuaded to leave as an important nectar and pollen source for bees, flowered and burst into a sea of dandelion clocks with scarcely a bee visiting them. So much for that, the smart bees know there are much more interesting flowers to visit. The Clematis montana and the lilac look particularly gorgeous. The bugle I propagated last year has beautiful flower spikes. The aquilegias, which I had been digging up to pot on, suddenly put up flower spikes, and I realised how many had self-seeded across the back of the garden. They would completely collapse if I tried to move them now, and are in the way of the difficult terrain near the back fence, so it seemed like a good idea to go with the course of least resistance and clear some ground from the centre of the garden instead.

I started by digging up yet more blasted bramble, and just randomly dug around. As the dry spell continued, it has become easier and easier. The soil is still stony, so I'm still met with the 'thunk' of fork tines hitting stone, but there isn't so much of it. There are patches of hard pan, which needs a bit of work. There is also quite a lot of pea gravel, so it has been improved, probably by the original owners who were keen gardeners. Although the soil is obviously fertile, it is also obviously clay-based and could do with further improvement. I'm amazed by the amount of broken glass in the soil. I had expected to find greenhouse glass, as I'd been told panes were broken when they removed the old greenhouse with its warped frame. There is quite a lot of bottle glass too. I've also dug up more pendulous sedge, this time apparently planted with a bin bag around its roots, and there are all sorts of bits of plastic. But, on the bright side, no bones, bits of asbestos sheet, lengths of barbed wire or rusting chunks of farm machinery. Also, no stone axe heads, spindle whorls, coins, or buried treasure. But I have found a jingle-bell (which doesn't jingle, as it's full of mud), a blue seed-bead, a button and a bit of clay pipe-stem. Treasure enough!

While digging, I've been thinking about my technique. I used to be good at using both sides of my body evenly, standing square to my fork and not working to one side or twisted. Obviously I lost the knack in the few years when my knees were really badly painful and I stopped working the veg patch on the farm. So it has been good to do some mindful digging, reminding myself to correct my alignment, to use both hands. Between improved technique, less back pain, taking frequent rest breaks and lighter soil, I've found I am clearing the ground quite well. The area to be cleared still seems quite dauntingly large, although I know once I start planting, it won't seem big enough. Broad bean Express has lived up to its name and has now been planted out.

The problem with digging up all this turf and weeds (not to mention still trying to root out brambles) is that the freestanding compost heap is now a complete monster. I've been using turves to build walls to it, while loose weeds and kitchen waste go in the middle, adding accelerator every few inches.

The swifts arrived sometime around the 5th or 6th of May - I forgot to note the exact date, although I remembered thinking as I heard their excited squees as they scythed through the blue sky that they were a month later than the swallows. I'm making the most of the fine weather while it's here; I have a feeling this might be our summer!

Backbreaking Ground-breaking

The Spring Equinox arrived, and I really hadn't done much in the garden, nor been able to. Trying to hasten the end of the vile cold, and take advantage of a few fine, sunny days (high pressure and a chilly easterly wind, before the prevailing westerlies brought more of unsettled, grey, rainy weather), the garden called. Oh, the pleasure of being able to go out every day for a little garden fix! In the recent rainy weather, I really started to miss the polytunnel we'd had on the farm, where I could sit and sow seeds or pot up/on seedlings, warm and cosy while the rain came down outside.

I'd decided that, since I can't afford to deal with the structural elements of the garden, the main planning and framework could wait, since most of what I wanted to grow more or less come under the heading of annuals - in other words, vegetables. And for that, I would need to clear some ground of the weeds, omnipresent brambles, dandelions and a dense thatch of grass. Which meant that the compost heaps would need to be dealt with, ready for the mountain of grass and weeds to come.

The compost seemed like a big job, so I put it off in favour of a little light digging to clear a patch ready to take sunflowers, peas, beans, courgettes and whatever other vegetables I manage to grow. Working back from the rear fence seemed a good place to start. This is the area which was formerly under a Leylandii (probably)-topped earth bank, although you wouldn't know to look at it now and I wondered how long ago it had been done.

I found another couple of purple crocus had popped up where I'd removed a few previously, so I lifted these and potted them up for safe keeping and replanting. Last year, I'd found some gold-painted pebbles close to the patio and path, (where I'd also found a broken plastic label buried a few inches down which read 'Happy Mothers Day') and was amused to find another gold pebble with the crocuses.

A big clump of pendulous sedge came out easily enough, and appeared to have been planted with a plastic bag around its roots. Everything else was hard graft, and after an hour I had only managed an area approximately 1 x 0.5 metre. This is a heavy, stony soil, so I'm not digging in the usual sense, using a spade and making decisions about whether to double-dig or not (I wish!). I could scarcely get the fork in 10 centimetres (four inches) before hitting stones and it soon became clear that it was not just natural stone. Bits of concrete, broken brick, glass (lots), tile and pot, odd bits of plastic - basically, household and building rubble, which I removed as I found it, separating the glass from the rubble into a separate pot. Oh dear, it is going to be a long, hard job.

The last Sunday in March, when the clocks changed to British Summer Time, spurred me into a flurry of garden activity. I bought a load of bagged up, 'bare root' style perennials very cheaply from Lidl, bought bags of compost and potted them up. Then, since I had already had a few attempts at getting the buddleias out from under the washing line, I had another go at them, determined to get them out before the weather broke, as the soil would get wetter again. The soil is so claggy, it sticks to everything and seems to pull against the thing you want to dig up. It has been getting drier and easier to work, but it was hard work just getting the smaller of the two buddleias out.

After much digging and cussing, I wrestled the larger buddleia out, leaving broken bits of root somewhere in the depths of the earth. I had to cut the roots back further to get it into the enormous pot I'd prepared for it. It remains to be seen whether the buddleias cope with the move.

I continued to tackle the ground-breaking in small steps, gaining less than a 50 centimetre square patch for an hour's work, ending up with more by way of weeds, rubble and glass than seemed possible for the area cleared.

On 2nd April, I decided that the compost really needed to be done, so most of bin 3 was emptied into 3 empty compost sacks and a selection of pots, ready for use. The contents of bins 2 and 1 went into the emptied bin 3, and then bin 1 got a mix from the top of the free-standing heap, while bin 2 got mostly slightly older stuff from lower down the free-standing heap, which cleared most of the heap, but left a layer of perhaps 20 centimetres. Oh my, the number of worms in the heaps now is wonderful! (I even disturbed some making more worms, oops, sorry wormies!)

7th April: the first week zipped by and I had still not got some good clear space to plant the first batch of peas and broad beans. I had another go near the back fence, then tackled a large dock in the grass nearby. despite dry-ish weather, it was like digging into a wet sump. I didn't manage to get the whole root out, but hopefully enough of it to put it off growing again.

The weather was lovely, and it was a pleasure to work outside with the occasional peacock, small tortoiseshell or orange tip flitting by and a red kite flying over for the second time that week, much to the disgust of the local seagulls. I potted on and tidied up the lemon and olive trees, taking off the first two lemons and reflecting that small things like that make me so happy.

I dug up and transplanted the fuchsias which were coming up out of the grass. Where the wet grass had lodged against the main stems, the bark just sloughed off as I tried to separate them from the grass and bramble which was coming up through them. The three plants I thought there were turned out to be five, though whether any will survive the move ...?

I keep finding bits of plant label for the garden thug campanula. (How many of the wretched things did they plant? One is more than enough! The same goes for the crocosmia. I'd toyed with the idea of interplanting something with crocosmia in the front garden, but I can see it doesn't grow like that - it spreads to form dense patches. Anything planted with it wouldn't stand a chance, even the campanula!

All this exertion called for a sit down with a glass of water, and I watched Mr Blackbird attacking a pot's contents. I went to have a look at what was so interesting. The primula in the pot was not looking well, and there was no sign of the hyacinth which was supposed to be in the pot with it. Emptying the pot out revealed several vine weevil grubs, which were duly squished and left for the birds to clean up, should they so desire. Blasted things.

I went into the front garden to have a dig there. I started attacking an area of old grassy thatch and peeled back the 'turf' to find loads of grubs and caterpillars. Each bit of grass I got up revealed more. It looks like I have an infestation of vine weevils and cutworms, with the occasional chafer grub thrown in for good measure. Much as I love moths, this number of caterpillars is excessive and between them and the weevil larvae, nothing would grow. Something will have to be done.

As I tidied the tools back into the garden cupboard, I wondered when the swallows would return and though my mind might be playing tricks when I heard 'chi-deep, chi-deep!' I looked around, but saw nothing. Then again, an excited 'chi-deep, chi-deep!' and a couple of swallows tore past. They're back! Poor things, it's still quite cold.

A couple of days later, and some more digging up near the back fence, slowly but surely a couple of metres by perhaps 1 metre, large enough to put the first few peas and beans in. Such slow and heavy work, my back really ached and I had to have a hot bath and early night. Around three in the morning, I awoke in agony, my right quadratus lumborum, (the square-ish/rectangular muscle which connects the top of the pelvis to the bottom of the ribs at the back between spine and waist) was in spasm, and I found I was doing involuntary hip lifts as the contracting muscle lifted my hip up to my ribs. I'd obviously strained it while digging and reaching mostly with my right hand, and it was rebelling. Cursing, stretching, massaging it and doing some mindful breathing, accompanied by concerned, purring cats, got me back to sleep again, but it's been a really painful three days of rest since then.

It looks like gardening might be unwise for a while, just when a spell of nice April high pressure, dry, sunny, cold weather is forecast. Perhaps I should somehow find a catapult, collect some of the vine weevil and moth grubs and fire them into the air for passing swallows, although they haven't been much in evidence since their appearance last week, because with the cold wind, they could surely use the extra food after their long journey back to us.

Still, I have fresh lemons for my favourite drink, so it could be worse.

Impatient to Get Gardening!

What do you do when it's too cold, dark and wet to go out into the garden and Gardener's World hasn't started yet? (It starts this week, so I won't have withdrawal symptoms for much longer!)
Do some garden planning, perhaps?
My preferred way to do this is in a hot bath with a mug of herb tea, a notebook and pen, and a stack of seed catalogues, but I don't seem to have received any catalogues at my new address, despite sending change of address information. It looks like paper catalogues are now by request, which is sensible, and I failed to request them, which is not.

Despite my lack of planning, I'm feeling impatient to get out into the garden again. There were a couple of mornings with sunny spells recently. On 24th February (or 23rd, perhaps?), I even ended up in my T shirt at one point, and could hear a bumble bee somewhere in the hedge. The cats thought it was great, sprawled on the patio or the swing seat in the sun. I was transplanting aquilegia and crocuses which had popped up in the grass. I found a bag of compost leaning against the shed, and wondered where I'd got this wonderful, rich, dark brown, crumbly compost from. Then I remembered - this was the bag I used to hold the almost-ready compost from one of the bins last year! Oh my! It's now possibly the best compost I've ever made! I only managed to transplant half of the aquilegia and ran out of appropriately-sized pots, so need to buy some more - and some more compost. The more I dig in the garden, the more I realise how stony and claggy the soil is. It could do with a lot of improvement. And in the meantime, I also have various roses, buddleias, fuchsia and whatever else needs saving, to dig up and plant in pots while I sort out where things are going to go, and create some dug-over soil for them to go in.

Having run out of pots, I had another go at some brambles and retreated indoors just as it came over all cloudy, in time for lunch. And then it started raining. Again.

March 1st - St David's Day - saw me cutting back the buddleia which needs to come out from under the washing line (I started trying to get a garden fork around and under it, but that will be a big job!). Mrs Blackbird decided that nest-building was the order of the day. Mr Blackbird just posed around on the top of various sheds while she frantically chucked leaves and bits around, taking beak-fulls of grass, small twigs, moss and so on back into the hedge. I think she might be in a bit of the privet hedge behind the camellia near the patio. She went crashing through the camellia several times when I was out there, despite the fact that I was working just a couple of metres away. I warned the cats to leave her be and they happily complied. I think they sensed that if they got too close, she would just go berserk and attack them. She carried on nest-building in the pouring rain the following day too, and I haven't seen her since, although Mr Blackbird has stopped posing so much and now just sits on the hedge or in the lilac, singing away. A dunnock has been providing some competition. He has such a lovely song.

Since then, I haven't managed a proper gardening session. I managed to prepare a couple of pots and made first sowings of beetroot and spinach. The sun came out the other day, and I got my shoes, gloves and coat on, only for it to start spitting as soon as I got out there. Within half an hour, it was coming down really hard, leaving standing water on the horse field on the other side of the garden fence.

The spring flowers I have in pots are really pretty, and the hellebores, which appeared as seedlings in the edge of the gravel 'bed' the year I moved in, have large, dusky pink flowers. Buds are breaking out all over - the first of the camellia flowers are opening, it won't be long before the Clematis montana flowers, and I can see colour on the tips of the lilac flower buds. I want to get out there, but there's little point when it's so wet. The birds and flowers are putting me to shame - they're getting on with the business of early spring, whatever the weather!

Back into the Garden

It seems unreal that I have now been here for just over a year. And I am still unpacking, cleaning and sorting (albeit with varying degrees of energy and dedication to the task!) Now that the weather has improved and, in meteorological terms at least, it's Summer, I've been getting back into the garden. I am enjoying even the smallest fix of pulling a weed, potting on or emptying the compost trug and watching things grow.

I started digging over the front garden on a fine day in March, but the soil was still wet and claggy. With the amount of soft rush, pendulous sedge, milkmaids and buttercups which have volunteered themselves as I've left the 'lawn' to grow, (not to mention the way that water pools on the farm fields behind me), it's evident that this was once damp meadow. The digging being way too heavy going, I contented myself with pruning and tying in the rose by the porch. It had been pulled down by some of the winter winds, and I thought the roots had been broken, but only one root was damaged. It responded to this rough treatment by sending up another strong shoot from the base, which is now over a metre high, with lots of flower buds and great big triangular thorns. It may not be scented, but it's quite a tough rose.

As everything started to grow rampantly, I decided I had better transfer my attention to the back garden. I have lots of herbs in pots, waiting to go into the 'herb garden', which is based on a roughly half-oval arc, the base of which is the patio wall, and centred on the rotary washing line. (The fight I had restringing that line is a saga in itself!)

The lilac flowered beautifully in mid-May and the scent was lovely. Every time I took a trugful of bits to the compost heap, I held an armful of branches and inhaled deeply. I went out to cut some for the house, but got a bit distracted by its colours. Looking down from the bedroom, it looked mid-purple in bud, opening to a paler lilac, but close to, the buds had a dusky pink tint as well. It's a shame it's so out-of scale and in the way for any work to be done on the hedge and fence.

The drifts of strap-shaped leaves are up again. The sharp, keeled leaves which I thought were pendulous sedge (because sedges have edges) are indeed that and are all over the place. As I started digging, I found some of the strap-shaped leaves looked different to the ones I've decided are probably Crocosmia, and end in tubers rather than corms, so it seems likely that these are Day Lilies. Of the two oriental poppies which managed to send up leaves last year, one has flowered already and is red, and I am waiting impatiently for the buds on the other plant to open. At some point, I will need to pot them up. It would be better to transfer them to their new home, but I just can't do (or pay to have done) all the necessary work right now. Also to be saved are the Aquilegia. The seedlings skulking in the grass last year have grown into a lovely selection ranging from very dark purple to palest pink. A very small geranium behind the shed has developed a cluster of very pale pink flowers - so I need to look it up as well as pot it up. One of the roses which had been scalped to almost nothing, but grew strongly last year, has clusters of little buds. I thought last year it looked like R glauca, but I'm not convinced; this year's leaves are a fresher green. The first flowers are just opening and they are semi-double, pink, very pretty; I don't know yet if they're scented.

As soon as I started with a bit of daily weeding, compost bin #3 became full and now has about as much as it can take. The contents of bin #1 having sunk down from full to about 30cm/1' of mostly composted stuff at the bottom, I decided to dig it out. Rather than trying to dig the compost out through the little hatch at the bottom of the bin, I just lifted the bin off and removed the top few inches of unrotted stuff into the top of bin #2. (Oh look, there's still some of the woody bits of that rose by the porch, from where I pruned it last year! And lots of seedlings trying to grow - it obviously didn't get as hot as I thought.) A buzzing noise attracted my attention, and I gingerly removed another clump of compost to reveal a bumblebees' nest. I stood still as a few bees came out to see what was going on, then gently transferred the nest to a piece of roofing felt which had come of the shed, folding the rest of the felt over to make a loose tube to keep the nest dry. I put it behind bins 2 and 3. The move seems to have been quite successful; they settled down and are still there. I've taken to saying 'it's only me!' if I disturb them, and they start to buzz and whine. They seem to pipe down again. I spent some time watching for individuals to come out to visit the flowers. Facebook was full of exhortations to allow dandelions to flower as a food source for bumblebees, and this year I had hordes of dandelions (the soil is probably full of seeds!) and didn't manage to dead-head all of them, but noticed that the bees couldn't care less about them, and visited any other type of flower first. Now the garden thug Campanula poscharskyana is flowering (and I have some C. portenshlagiana as well) the bees love it, so I've managed to get a good look at them. They are Early Bumblebees, Bombus pratorum, small and sweet. However, several individuals today were covered with mites. I don't want to disturb a nest whenever I dig out a compost heap, so I'm wondering about some sort of pre-made nest site for them.

Meanwhile, the compost from the bottom of the bin filled a 60 litre compost bag and is now the base compost for the tomato and courgette plants. The courgette seedlings looked so wimpy that I sowed some more seeds, but after a week or so, they seem to have got their roots heading down into the rich stuff and seem to be creating a new leaf a day.

About a week ago, it was a lovely day, and I spent about six hours of it out in the garden, including plenty of stops to sit and have a drink, surveying my realm from the swingseat (although I still really ached the next day). I managed to dig over a strip 50 cm x 2 m; not very much really, as I found a hard pan about 10 cm down and really had to lean on the fork and wiggle it back and forth to break through. I'm hoping that it's not like that across the garden and only because it was near the path, where it may have been walked on, but I was told that the ground had been compacted a bit. There were also little pockets of compost, where things had been planted at one time (I found a buried label which read 'Happy Mother's Day'), but otherwise it seems to be quite a stony clay-based soil. Given the rampant growth, I would guess it's quite fertile, but there are altogether too many slugs and snails and too few earthworms for my peace of mind. I was expecting the compost I dug out to be full of brandling worms too, but they were very few and small. I'd brought some in some compost from the farm, to give my compost bin a headstart. The latest issue of RHS The Garden magazine came with a card for a New Zealand Flatworm survey. I haven't noticed any, but I shall have a decent look for them, in case they're the cause of the lack of worms. That would be a bit worrying.

Having had a week and a bit of dry weather, it's become changeable again. Oh well, it's nicer to dig on an overcast day than in the blazing sun! The trouble is, compost bin #1 is full, although it will settle down a bit. The bins are (I think) the Ecomax 220 litre type, but only 4 or 5 tub trugfuls fill a bin and they get all my veggie kitchen waste as well as the weeds and the weed-upon wood-based cat litter, which should act as an accelerator. Bin #2 still has quite a lot of work to do. Bin #3 was only started in mid-April and is quite nicely warm. In the meantime, I need to look into some compost accelerators and perhaps start a freeform heap. And carry on digging!

Seasonal Update

Time is doing its thing and I haven't written much yet this year - busy with other things, I suppose.

We often have a period of cool but fine weather in Spring, but it doesn't seem to have happened this year.

It was a mild winter, but although there were only a few frosts (probably because I'm now closer to sea level and the sea), it has been a relatively cold Spring. Storm Imogen in February damaged the garden shed (and those of my next-door and next-but-one neighbours) and tossed an empty compost bin across the garden. Storm Jake at the start of March continued the shed damage and tossed the compost bin across the garden again. We missed the worst of Storm Katie at Easter (an early Easter this year, soon after the equinox). We've had some other very windy times which have not been named storms, although with yellow weather warnings. The Met Office criteria for naming a storm is where there is expected medium or high impact of high winds. The vicious easterlies in the first week of April should have qualified, but strangely, not so. Apart from being very cold, it was also strong enough to move the garden store cupboard, turning it 180 degrees and tossing it onto its side a couple of metres from where it normally stands against the wall of the extension. Fortunately, only one of the ceramic pots stored in the bottom was smashed, although others now have chips in them. At least it didn't take long to pick up and return the rest of the scattered contents.

There were a few fine days in mid March, when I was training as a LIFT leader with Age Cymru and was either inside or otherwise too tired to do much else. One day after training, it was much too nice to go home straight away, so I went for a little stroll down 'Fortune's Frolic', a path by the River Cleddau between Haverfordwest and Uzmaston. It was a sunny but still chilly evening, with happy, smiley people walking happy, waggy dogs. As I got to the first viewpoint, there were a pair of Small Tortoiseshell butterflies flitting around, and a flash of blue as a Kingfisher disappeared up Merlin's Brook.

The river Cleddau is tidal here. It was quite low as I walked to the end of the level riverside path, and sat on one of the benches to enjoy the river. A pair of swans made their way upstream, and a group of 50 or so ducks descended out of nowhere and started to preen and dabble near a shingle bank further downstream. Without binoculars, I couldn't see what they were; I wondered if they could be Widgeon, but they were more likely to be Teal. There was also a pair of Mallard, just getting on with business. Unusual ripples in the water close to the bank below me attracted my attention. The shallows were seething with small fish; the last time I had seen so many was in the river Cèze, in the Cévennes.

April brought a few more sunny but chilly days. I happened to be out and about on the 9th, so took sandwiches down to Gelliswick Bay and was rewarded with the sight of a very low tide.

It wasn't as warm as it looks in the photo! At tides this low, the wooden remains of some wrecked boats can be seen (although not from this photo!) on the rocky point just in front of the oil jetty on the right of the photo. I didn't walk out that far, not having brought footwear (let alone knees!) which could deal with the mud and rocks. I'm not sure what the angular concrete block, whether it's a gun emplacement left over from WWII or some sort of mount for some other bit of ship-related kit. Some visitors use it as a bird table, dumping a pile of stale bread on it and retreating to a safe distance while the gulls descend in a mob to squawk and squabble over their bounty. The other (east) end of the beach has the slipway and yacht club and is overlooked by Fort Hubberston. Built in the 1860s and last used in WWII, it is now disused and derelict. The tide was still retreating when I arrived and after a couple of hours, just before it turned, a JCB with a block and chain in its bucket trundled down the beach to a small cluster of people, and proceeded to put in a new mooring buoy.

Pottering in the garden on the 13th, I saw Peacock, Small Tortoiseshell and Orange Tip butterflies, one of each just passing through the garden, since there's still nothing much of interest for them here. I also saw my first Swallows, although I'd seen a post from a garden centre the other side of Haverfordwest that they had seen their first the week before. Poor Swallows, arriving back in such chilly weather! It occurred to me that perhaps the first sighting of birds, butterflies and so on each year could just be a matter of luck; they happen by when you happen to be looking.I didn't do the Big Garden Birdwatch this year; every time I looked out, there were no birds to be seen!

Where did May go? Ah, yes, I picked up a vile cold in the last week of April and was still trying to get rid of it in mid May! The weather picked up a bit throughout the month, and various boats and yachts have come out of their winter quarters and onto moorings and marinas. It's all starting to look quite summery. Suddenly it's the end of May. I've now been in my 'new' home for a year. And I am STILL gradually unpacking, cleaning and sorting out. Incredible!

The Spring is Sprung

The Spring is Sprung

The grass is ris

I wonder where the birdies is?

The birdies is upon the wing!

Don't be absurd!

The wing is on the bird!

My Dad taught me this when I was a youngling and it stuck with me, popping up to the top of my memory every spring. It's the idea that spring suddenly leaps up which I like the most, because it always seems to me that one minute, everything is still dormant, or at least drowsy, and all it takes is a little sunshine and warmth, and boinggg! Everything is awake and growing like mad. I'd never really thought about the grass 'rising' until I studied small-scale livestock management and found out about 'first bite', when the grass starts growing again after winter. When you have stock to turn out, having enough grass for them, and that it has indeed started growing, is important. In fact, it becomes something of an obsession. We had sheep on tack this spring (Lleyn x Texel x something else perhaps) and they seemed to go quite well on what grass was there, even before it started growing away. The lambs have been totally cute, pronking and butting one another, several of them forming a temporary creche before running, bleating, back to their ewes for milk and comfort.

I know exactly where the birdies is because they are all flying around and showing off, singing and eating like there's no tomorrow. The jackdaws have rebuilt their nest in the false chimney on the main house, and Mr Jackdaw sits on the stack providing a running commentary about something, presumably telling his Mrs what she's missing as she sits on the eggs. ('Those chickens are in the yard again, and that mad woman who talks to me all the time ....').

It has officially been Spring for just over three weeks now, since Ostara/Spring Equinox. Even so, it has only been in the past week or so that things have really started to flourish. The weather on Good Friday was abysmal, heavy rain and high winds. The chickens were not very impressed at having to stay in all day. Greebo insisted on going out, getting soaked, complaining and sulking about it until he was dried off, and then going out again. I don't know what he's going to do when I move; I can't persuade him just to use a litter tray (although he has taken to spraying more frequently, including in the house, the little &*%%£$!). After the horrible weather had blown through, the usual April high settled in for a few days of warm sunshine, chilly winds and brilliant blue skies. I saw my first butterflies the other day, a Small Tortoiseshell and a Peacock, and have noticed growing numbers of moths at night, but haven't yet done any trapping to see what they are.

Glorious spring weather notwithstanding, it never feels like spring to me until the swallows start to arrive. I had to pop into St Clears yesterday to run various errands, and as I was enjoying the drifts of primroses, daffodils, wood anemones, wood sorrel, violets, the first of the bluebells, stitchwort and red campion, there were the first few swallows overhead.

Yes! The sun is shining, the birdies are upon the wing, and spring has truly sprung.

Full of the Joys of Spring

Spring is well and truly sprung here.  The first daffodils, which were out in time for St David's Day on 1st March, have faded unnoticed in the later-flowering clumps still spilling down the hedgebanks, punctuated by hummocks of primroses, gleaming lesser celandines and starry stitchworts.  The first hedge parsley flowers are starting to sprawl into the road already. Furry willow buds have opened to reveal catkins and the blackthorn is in flower, turning lengths of hedgerow sparkling pale green and white.

As I whisked into St Clears to stock up on cat food from the farmers co-op this morning, I cursed myself for having left my camera at home, although I would have had to stop frequently for the photo opportunities.  As I drove, I kept saying 'Ooh, look at that!' to myself as I passed drifts of wood anemones and cuckoo flowers, and old cottage garden walls dripping with purple Aubretia. Swallows are zipping everywhere. In the town centre, a large, old magnolia tree completely covered in flowers dropped drifts of petals onto the crossroads.

The month started strangely for me.  I had to wash sand off my windscreen when I went out to teach, and then found I didn't have my camera to take pictures of the spectacular sunset.  The following day, I saw on the news that the sand had come up on the wind all the way from the Sahara, and that in some English cities it was mixing with pollution to create poor air quality.  That night, I watched a programme on the potential survivability of a volcanic eruption and subsequent tsunami on La Palma, and woke to news of a magnitude 8.2 earthquake and tsunami warnings in Chile. A couple of days later, I was looking at patterns for cotton yarn and came across a sweater for ferrets. That night, I had to do an emergency stop on my way home, to avoid a beautiful (yes, really! sleekly plump, furry and gorgeous!) polecat who had decided to stroll across the road.

Since those few creepy coincidences, things have settled down a bit.  The cats and few remaining hens are enjoying the better weather.  In the past couple of weeks, one of the hens has even started laying a few eggs, an unexpected gift as they are all getting on a bit. The hens have settled down to being without a cockerel since he and another hen died within a week of each other during the wet weather in winter.  Red succumbed after a series of strokes which left him paralysed on one side. Although he was a good, well-behaved cockerel, he didn't like being touched and I would not have tried to pet him for fear of losing a chunk of flesh while he freaked out.  After his second or third stroke, he gave up trying to go up to the perch, but chucked happily away and tucked in with gusto when I put food and drink next to him in the run, and became a real tickle-monster, crooning when I stroked his neck and back feathers.  I would have had to cull him if he hadn't been so apparently happy, poor lad. Fudge had been badly hurt during the dog attacks a couple of years ago, but she came through with some sort of granuloma where the feathers and skin had been ripped on one leg. It affected her walking a bit, but she was fine otherwise. So she lived an extra couple of years, then went downhill very suddenly and died the same day, a few days before Red.

In the last set of gales, the tree which held the sparrow hawk nest came down.  At least one of the sparrow hawks is still around though, and seems to make a daily visit to the bird table next door. I was watching a little warbler hopping from branch to branch in the elder tree in my back yard and wondered if it was a willow warbler or chiff-chaff. Then it started to sing - chiff-chaff-chiff-choof-cheef-chaff-chiff-chaff. Sweet, but not as entertaining as Mr Jackdaw, who sits either by the nest-chimney or in the tree across the road, chattering away and preening in the sunshine.

We seem always to have a period of fine, dry weather here in Spring.  I so hope we have a sunny summer again.  I think I missed the best of last summer, unable to drive and spending a lot of time sleeping after the operation on my foot. I want to make up for it this year, but in the meantime, I'm full of the joys of Spring!