It feels like the first Saturday we've had to ourselves at home for a very long time. We had 'GARDEN' in the diary. The builder told us, before the kitchen work, that it would be 'mullahed'. He could have meant 'mullered'. It was definitely a reference to either a terrorist bomb site or high priced creamy yoghurt, I'm not sure which one. Either way I took it to mean that the garden would be a mess at the end of the work. It is. It was a lovely 'spring' day to be out trying to get your garden sorted out. (The 'spring' is in inverted commas partly beacuse I have a bit of a predeliction for them and partly because I will not believe spring has actually arrived until we've had another spot of snow for good measure). But it was quite depressing work - lots of digging, lots of pulling up roots, moving heavy things around, getting stuff ready to take to the tip, treading mud all through the house and not really ending up with anything that looked like we've spent a whole weekend on.
But then, as I looked up from the spade and glanced across the dirt landscape, I noticed that the roots had been leant up against various items for the tip and had suddenly formed, all by themselves, a nice little art installation. Made me remember that starry journey we took at Advent and how the beauty's usually there all along, but sometimes you need to open your eyes a bit wider.
beautiful x
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