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Tuesday, 6 June 2023

Weh ist mir

Rare as the Mona Lisa. 

Signs of RR in a penitential  act of gardening. 

Repeat after me: Ah, that I should be so cursed.

8 comments:

  1. When we moved here, in retirement, my green fingered wife had hanging baskets and plant pots everywhere - a joy of multi flora. I contructed an arbour for climbing Wisteria to grow over and planted trees.

    Now alone and 84 I simply cannot manage all these (I was never a "gardener" anyway) All hanging baskets are gone and most trees too. But the Wisteria still performs all over the arbour.

    Your wheelbarrow looks very like the one I took over from my father, who took it over from my grandfather. But obviously much newer and shiny. Do you wash and polish it each week along with the car?

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  2. Avus: I have the physical ability (well, more or less) to do the the work, it's the will I lack. In juxtaposition with this dilemma, I hate the house and its surrounding looking squalid.

    The wheelbarrow I acquired as KDF (for cheapness). The only thing I've modified is to replace the front tyre (unnecessarily pneumatic) with a solid one. This required some metalwork.

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  3. and I love to garden, love to get my hands in the dirt, love to dig inhaling all those happy making microbes.

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    1. ellen abbott: There are some people who like warm milk, to me even the smell acts as an emetic. I eat offal, you would probably run a mile. Probably the same with Proust.

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  4. You make me laugh. Gardening is a real joy to me, but I understand inertia and dread. Hard physical work is for the young.

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    1. Colette: I suppose the acid test is what sort of thoughts pass through your mind as it happens. You: Gee, this is almost as good as sex. My Dad (shifting a heavy piece of furniture): There are people who are stronger in the arm and weaker in the head for this sort of thing.

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  5. I laughed out loud at this, as you have repeatedly moaned about green stuff and physical labor.

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  6. Sandi: During National Service square-bashing (your male relations would no doubt have called it boot camp) one was punished - regularly and without cause - with periods of extreme drudgery, often taking in filth along the way. I am not inclined to recall this militaristic nonsense; gardening would remind me. What's more there's the induced mindlessness.

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