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| Weeded but worrying. The three gravel beds |
Had the weekly Skype session last Sunday - VR, me, our two daughters. I opened with a provocative invitation: “Yesterday, and the day before, I engaged in an activity you’d least expect of me. Guess what.”
One daughter (I’ve forgotten which) said, “You went to Dunelm.” Dunelm sells soft goods and I’ve posted about it before. Entering the Hereford branch is like diving into a swimming pool filled with cotton wool. Or taking a triple dose of Nightnurse, an over-the-counter pill for those who can’t sleep. I begin to yawn uncontrollably and this does not end until I pass through Dunelm’s exit.
In fact, as I key the above words, I start yawning.
Everybody laughed; they know my little ways. But the actual activity was even more atypical. I weeded the three gravel beds that form the heart of our back garden.
Weeding is gardening and I avoid gardening. But not suicidally. If I notice a problem which will get horribly worse (Not that I’m good at this.) I do the necessary. Albeit, very reluctantly.
But I’m not good at bending. And weeds – hoe-ed from the gravel – need picking up. Which means bending. One solution is to use a stool and pick from a sitting position.
But notice “gravel beds”. Have you ever tried to move a stool you’re occupying with its lower supports sunk into the gravel? Theoretically it’s impossible – you cannot lift yourself. But you can slightly extend your knees, briefly reducing the load, and shuffle the stool six inches. Farcical to watch, cumulatively wearying and unforgivably inefficient.
But there is a worrying sequel. Work done, I found myself returning to the gravel and finding solace in its weedlessness. Purged, as after a visit to the toilet. This cannot be healthy for the mind.
Re[lied by email with link to litter picker on Amazon.
ReplyDeleteSir Hugh: Thanks for that but I doubt they would be delicate enough. Some of the weeds are a mere 2 cm tall. Which means I can't even wear gloves. Which means that cleaning my nails afterwards takes ages. Gardening can be a real bastard.
ReplyDeleteWhen I'm pulling weeds I am enjoying that small act of violence against my enemies (the weeds), and I'm not playing tired loops in my head about external reality. It's hard work, so there's the exercise aspect. But the feeling of accomplishment is so worth it for me. I've never weeded in a gravel bed, though. That sounds rough.
ReplyDeleteColette: I don't enjoy combating weeds. Simply because they're always going to win.
DeleteThere are wearable stools available in many styles and colors. Supposedly developed for milking cows - some have only a single leg. Cough up the $50 - and by all means show us a photo of yourself wearing it.
ReplyDeleteMikeM: I googled these devices, all had intrinsic faults. The wearable stools had the advantages of straps and would, I think, work well with a walking stick (you call them canes) as an aid to rising prior to moving; however, they were all too low. The one-legged stools were tall enough but they didn't come with straps.
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