I had a cheese salad butty and then cycled to the office supplies place in Didsbury to get a new tape for my answerphone. While I was in the area I called at the cheese shop and stocked up. I was always overwhelmed by the choice but invariably ended up with the same tasty Lancashire, mature Cheddar and a soft Irish blue called Cashell. At the health food shop I bought tinned chickpeas, vegeburger mix, live yogurt and olives. Everywhere adverts exhorted me to celebrate Mother’s Day -with chocolates, flowers, food, teddy bears. There was even a sign attached to the lamppost pushing helicopter rides for Mother’s Day, book now! Did they get a rush on like Interflora did?
In the couple of hours left before collecting the children I decided to put some work into the garden. The first weeds were just emerging. I spent time clearing those, digging out myriad small dandelions. Then I shovelled out the compost ready for forking in round the shrubs and in the borders. Over the winter the brick box had got covered with dead wood and brambles. I raked those into a pile for a bonfire. I scraped the bottom of the box clear all ready for new waste.
We had a large garden which I’d made my own over the years that we’d rented the house. The basics had been there before, lawn, flowerbeds, rockery. To them I’d added a bower cum-patio next to the house, a suntrap for the long summer afternoons. We’d put a sandpit in for the kids and a climbing frame. And I’d divided off the bottom of the garden with lattices up which I grew clematis, honeysuckle and annual sweet peas. That area got the morning sun.
My plans included a water feature. I’d been keen on the notion of a fountain and pool but one look at the price of pumps to circulate the water had shifted the scheme from intention to pipe dream. Maybe when my boat came in… I could still go for a pond anyway.
I dug in some of the compost. In the crisp March air it was hard to imagine the scents and colours that summer would bring. By the time I’d done one border my shoulders and back were aching and my time was up. I washed my hands and face, watched the great tits on the bird nuts for a couple of minutes. I’d worked away some of the tension left from dealing with Agnes that morning. And I was thankful that the job, with its erratic nature, at least allowed me time, precious time. For weeding and watching birds feeding and for playing in the soil.