Despite the wind, rain and hail, the Machinist didn't let me off the hook when it was time to go and work on the grounds at the shop. At one point, the hail came down so hard, it felt like tiny pebbles catapulted at my face. He was relentless and forced me to continue on with spade in hand, like a garden gnome; a fixture of the outdoors.
About the Machinist forcing me, that is. Truth be known, I love to be out in the wind and rain. I love the way my cheeks go from icy to hot. Even my earlobes resemble embers after working outdoors.
We were pulling down rampant blackberry bushes, which had entwined themselves in the vegetation - planted at the front of the property years ago and extremely overgrown. At one point, a thorn ripped at my ear, and it was only later, when chatting with a neighbourly couple, that I rubbed my ear, and actually pulled the thorn out. They looked at me enquiringly. "Don't worry about me, I'm just doing an Amazon woman thing..." I remarked.
Over the years, a lot of silt has run off the hill behind the shop each time we've had rain, and that, coupled with fallen leaves, tiny twigs, berries and pods has resulted in the most amazing black soil. We separated the 'good' soil from the matted couch grass, which has acted like a spider's web, entangling faded drink cans and broken bottles, as well as oddities such as reflectors, rusty petrol caps and even an odd window wiper. Motoring stuff. The trashy soil and branches were loaded on the trailer, and later in the week, I hope to transfer the good soil to the Grand's garden. It will become the marrow of their future cottage garden.
I am pleasantly tired and somewhat achy, but feel satisfied and accomplished which is a great thing. The rain is still falling gently. I'm grateful for that. After all, it would be really horrid to have to run out to the Machine shop this time of the night and start moving tools and equipment as well as sweeping out generous puddles from insufficient country storm water drains.
Still, I know where my bread is buttered. I love my home. I'm not a nabob, but I sure do live like one....