April visit 6

Garden progress!

After about 35 hours, I’d got the garden weed-free, and David spent about 8 hours weeding the paths and spraying the drive. We’ve reluctantly taken the decision to spray weed-killer on the drive (and maybe the edges I can’t get to). If we can get the garden under control, and mulch it once it is weed-free for a couple of weeks, I may be able to control the weeds on the drive by hand, but at the moment it is just too much. And if we don’t control them somehow, all the weeds on the drive will just spread seeds all over the garden! I’m not happy about it, but regard it as a short-term emergency measure rather than a permanent solution. I don’t know what else to do…
Every time it got difficult (I got either hot or cold [depending on the time of day and strength of the wind] and tired/achy) and I was demoralised, I reminded myself of Troy Baylis (I often try to be more like him). That guy is an inspiration: generally he seems to be the hardest working chap you can imagine, never complains, doesn’t blame anyone (even when he so easily could) for mishaps & generally finds a smile. The piercing blue eyes and cheeky grin probably don’t hurt, but that’s another story!
His latest exploit was trying to race in the second round at Donington. It was only being forbidden by the race boss & paramedics, who insisted that he go to hospital, that prevented him. He’d ground away most of his little finger in a crash and had to have two bones amputated. I think I’m quite a lot hardier than footballers, but Troy’s a role model and a half!! A weeding blister seems small beer!

Being English, I thought a jardinière was a plant pot stand… And preferably a nice example by Minton or Moorcroft! I found out that I’m a jardinière by accident. When M. Lorin was having his vide-grenier to clear more of his “stuff” out after we’d bought the house, there was a little boy playing with some gardening tools his grandparents had bought, so I mentioned that he was going to be a gardener when he grew up. Thankfully they laughed at my bad grammar! How much worse if I’d had to explain that I thought their little “jardinière” was a boy rather than just getting the feminine wrong…