Saturday, 1 August 2009

Minor winds, sick tarps, holes blocked

So this is how I started the day: 10pm.

In lovely sunshine Hubs and me went round all the squashes-type plants and harvested all the provender. Melons, courgettes, and other thingummy's which I haven't the faintest clue about.

Last year a huge mixed box of squashes and similar were donated to us. HG / Hubs kept the seeds but not separately. All were bundled together in an envelope, some of which were duly planted by Under Gardener (UG) aka moi.

The original seeds were obviously F1 hybrids because none of this years crop match their parents. That is why I have not harvested them. Quite simply, I don't know what they are or what to do with them.

But today, HG was in a raring-to-get-self-sufficiency mode, so off he went with UG in tow with the wheelbarrow.

A few hours laster, and this is how I fetch up at the end of the day!

Looking more than somewhat frazzled. And wet.

In between:

HG out mowing the 'garden'. Field actually. Hard ground. Could hear lawn mower clanging on stones and things. Thought to myself, 'That lawn mower is going to come out on strike in a moment.' Sure enough, it did.

Not to worry. Cup of tea. Bit of cake. Lawn mower decided to play the game, and start up again. HG off on his lawn mowing patrol. Round the perimeter of the back field he went. Everything looking good.

Lunch a bit late. Siesta delayed. Visit from someone who lives in Paris. On hols here. Met her last year on her annual visit to this region. This year: she is not so good. Wanted to offload all her troubles. Tried to listen. I did, I really, really did. But in truth all I could think about was the advancing hour, and that if I didn't get into the kitchen caravan and start cooking lunch sometime soon, that I wouldn't be able to because it was going to be too hot. Made a mental note not to offer cups of tea and cake to visitors who arrive after 11pm in the morning. Feeding them makes them want to linger. If they linger I swelter because lunch is delayed. Plus we are used to eating between 12 and 1 now, so hunger pangs start to grab at us.

Siesta done. Sun cooking everything outside. So into The Hut and onto our PC's for the afternoon. Me to work on Dreamweaver again, and Lester to do Lestery-weekend things.

He disappears. I disregard his absence for a while. Then suspect he has been up to something or other.

A while later: through The Hut door he comes, looking mortified.
"What have you been up to?" I ask of him, knowing full well something has happened because he is not a happy-chappy.
What had transpired was this: Upon washing two nectarine seeds in preparation for adding them to his ongoing project of growing trees from seeds, one had got lost. Well, not 'lost' as such. Just misplaced. Down the plug-hole actually. The plug-hole of the sink in the house, which is a huge hole and has often had us wondering what sort of sink warrants such a huge hole. And despite numerous investigations, no outlet for the plug hole can be found. I mean, where does it empty out?

But what Lester has found out is: that it is deep. That one can poke a stick a half metre long down it, so it must drain somewhere. Unfortunately the seed could not be retrieved. The seed which was now inside the draining hole which had fallen into the plug hole of the sink, and which has now acted as a plug hole to the draining hole.

Which means that the sink is blocked.

Not to worry. Since the seed is made of organic material someday in the future it will either rot and disintegrate, or sprout and grow up through the plug hole in the sink and make us a nectarine tree. It will take quite a long time to either one of those things. We may or may not have a roof on by then. Two years Lester said, that's how long it takes to sprout a seed hidden inside a hard shell.

Meanwhile, it means the sink has lost its capacity to be a proper sink, but is instead a go-slow sink which means that it drizzles it's water slowly away. Ah well. I will let you know if we are to have nectarines from our own tree growing out of our sink, inside the dining room of our house, which may or may not have a roof on by the time the tree gives us some fruit.

And then a gust of wind sprang up out of no-where.
We have been lax.
The tarps on the kitchen caravan have been slowly dying from the baking they receive each day from the sun.
The tarp protects the caravan and awning from the weather.
Inside the awning are our precious boxes: Books and clothes. Everything else is under the tarps outside.
I look at the tarp on the kitchen caravan and see the wind pull a gap in it.
I rush to get the brown sticky tape, the same sticky tape that held the tarps onto the gazebo all the winter long. It is packing tape. For boxes.
I grab another old tarp, pulling it behind me as I race the wind across the courtyard, berating myself for not organising a new tarp for the caravan. After all, this one had been giving a warning that it was nearing the end of its life.
Lester hears me. Comes out.

And fetches up on the roof of the caravan, trying to fix the tarp to the roof.

It didn't work. As fast as we tried to get the replacement on, which was smaller than needed, so the gusts of wind tore apart the original tarp even more. We got windswept and wet.

So we went inside and had a drink from a bottle I had been inspired to buy yesterday. Sometimes, just sometimes, needs must.

Actually, it wasn't much of a storm really. Just enough to make us want to retire from the presence of tarps, having wrestled with them for over a year.

Things I have learnt today: That keeping busy on other projects can keep one's mind off the concerns of the moment which one can find no solution for.
That saying the Hope word really does work. The house stayed intactus and no walls fell down. Neither did the chimney pot, which for some reason has managed to stay complete despite howling storms, the old roof being taken off, and the new roof being prepared for.
That visitors who feel the need to offload all their sorrows need to be discouraged from doing so for the moment. Without fail, they all have roofs but seem to be minus the ability to hear anything to do with the Hope word.
That one should really listen when one has thoughts about certain things needing to be doing. Putting off these thoughts will only make things harder in the long term. But not to worry. Those thoughts will be listened to eventually, because there will come a point when they have to be acted on. The fact that I acted on my thoughts about the tarp on the caravan just at the point when the wind had decided to come play with it, is neither here nor there!
That the storm brought some rain which did the garden good.


DUTA said...

I just love that picture of yours with the little wagon of veggies!

It appears you depend quite a lot on Nature's whims. A little wind sends you and your hubs to great work, but you two seem to handle these situations fine.

Vera said...

Yes, Duta, we are at the mercy of 'Nature's whims' mostly because we are living outside all the time so we are more aware of the temperaments of the weather. And, yes, we do handle these situations well. Our saving grace is that we can always find humour from within the experience.