Blooming Springtime

I'm beginning not to cope. The start of May when Havran Cottage's gate is open once is looming closer. I'm tripping over holes that I have excavated and expected to have filled again by now. With no sign of rain, transplanted grass needing constant watering from 40 metres of hosepipe cumbersomely being pulled to different areas of the garden. Trips to the woodlands at dusk without any neighbourly eyes watching (all glued to the primetime 7pm news channels) to pick cut branches to form decorative wattle fences. The garden thankfully has Jana working full time to yield our annual needs. One less thing to worry about maybe but adding the imminent arrival of hens* to our compound has created my own full time employment of hammering their home together. Screws would have been easier than nails, but a stuttering drill has put away that thought. I don't think there has been an occasion since we have lived here that everything has worked properly at the same time. 
At least this year an investment in a semi-decent lawn mower has eased the possibility of last year's muscle pains with it's self-propelling rear wheels. Grass cutting has suddenly become boring.
Gravel is staring back in a pile outside our gate. More building material, this has to stop. Enough is enough, as my camera gathers dust. It needs to start clicking soon for me to relax again. 

*Initially we waited for chicks from our local farmer, but I wasn't ready with the henhouse. Then we have waited for a farmer's market, but then I wasn't ready with the henhouse. Then another market, I wasn't ready still. Now we are waiting for the last market on the calendar, if I am ready with the henhouse...

To kill a ladybird

The awakening of our mixed ladybird collection to the bathroom window ledges, desperate for escapism to the outside world. But most don't make it when a finger presses gently to disable their little bodies. A dustpan and brush clears any evidence. 
This all might sound a little bit cruel, but then there is no sentiment when you are cleaning all their little dirt marks on the glass of the windows.  
    

April arrival

The unlikely arrival of snow showers and mud has marked the first days of April. Slipping on sloppy ground, bringing into the house large clumps of sloshy mud from our boots every time we had to put some more wood in the stove to keep the house warm. Overalls now with a faded dirt colour, soaking wet woolly hat and gloves with more holes than fingers. And all for the sake of preparing for chicken arrivals in another week's time. Our neighbour (the one who didn't move our trailer, gossips but we have to remain friends with when we need repairs on chimneys or drill bits..) has already judged that the local wildlife will have easy pickings on our new flock. It's so nice to hear that sort of feedback. He did offer us cake though when we saw him, so we let that remark pass.  
One week earlier I was back in Prague for a couple of hours work. 8 hours there, 8 hours back. At least the sun shone there, which brought out the camera clicking tourists in their droves. Easter colour with all it's eggs and shiny material and a chance to see english acquaintances in groups of matching t-shirts with wording or pictures to help me distinguish who the lucky groom will be. 
And these days it is fun seeing how the self-portrait photograph has developed with straining arm and neck muscles. I don't understand why they can't ask a passing stranger to take their picture instead like before. Then again I was starting to charge for this service.