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...