The list...

part two of gardening trauma dilemma's - distractions and accomplishments....

Details - the ‘to do’ list…

At the beginning of each half term I write a long list of all the jobs I never seem to get time to do whilst teaching. Rather unoriginally, ‘Things to do’ is the title. I try my best to work my way through each item, marking each off as I go. A time old manual system with proven efficiency and indeed when I bother to look at it, am not distracted by a certain light on a tree or a meadow, by other equally (un)important jobs or simply lose the list altogether, it works well.

For this holiday - so far - it runs as follows;

• clean animal water troughs

• muck out sheep cabin

• muck out chicken houses

• clip chicken wings

• clear winter debris (veggie patch and squash beds)

• nourish above

• clear fallen trees

• prune 2 x walnut trees + 2 x Mulberry

• plant garlic, brassicas, onions, winter salads and peas

• clear cold frames and wash pots

• sow seeds - tomato, chilli, squash

• clear all admin

• finish knitting hoodie for daughter

• transfer overloaded library on Mac to exterior hard disk

• decorate bathroom ( + hubbies den if time)

• repair sewing machine

• call aunties Sue and Lizzie

• do recycling

• take rubbish to tip

• take left over medication back to pharmacy

• try out curly cock with convicts

• check plugs and oil (brush cutter + mower)

• sharpen blades

• tidy store (cave)

• plead with hubby to clear out his hangar

The order of importance depends entirely on weather conditions!

SATURDAY : I dress without care, throwing an oversized woollen jumper over several worn out t-shirt layers and jeans - a relief from the hassle of trying to be smart(ish) for work; nothing bugs me more than having to think about clothes! I ponder momentarily about wasting time lighting ‘stove’ and decide that particular battle can wait, hubby and son will not appear for hours yet and if they do, well it will be their fight. I creep around the kitchen in a vague effort to not wake them, I know exactly where to tread to stop the floorboards creaking - everything is noisy in this old house, no matter how hard I try to be silent it speaks back at me, even the walls make sounds! In the dry summer months they grumble as they retract with the heat and again in winter when they expand in the damp. And of course, lizards and mice cause chaos in the cavities all year round, the noise is horrendous - I open the door which squeaks loudly on its hinges - there is nothing I can do to halt this, no amount of oil has ever helped - and step out into the freshness of the morning without a backward glance.

I fill a bucket with grain for the chickens, then curse my haste as I open the hatch and they fly out of the coop in a cloud of dust and feathers because I had meant to leave them until later in order to clip their wings - they’ve been escaping for the last ten days - infuriatingly, when there is a whole field of leaves and moss to scratch in they have unearthed half my bank of snowdrops… their wings will be a fiercely short back and sides job! I run back to the barn, fill the same bucket with sheep nuts, throw a leaf of hay wrapped in its sheet over my shoulder and return, running back down through the chicken field towards the tiny parcel of woodland we ‘commandeered’ during confinement and along the track to feed my woolly ladies and Rambo.

I am delighted to see they are all scatter when they catch sight of the white sheet again because on my list for later is ‘change sheep water’ and ‘muck out cabin’. I quickly banish the idea of creating a flowing white coat, its just too ridiculous…

With the animals fed I run back to the kitchen, pick up my camera, put a lead on Wolfie and flee to the slopes of the hill. A milky sun paints smudges of light through the murk of night filling the valley with ephemeral lines of mist.

It is the first day of half term and I am distracted from my list of chores already.

The distraction...

I walk for far longer than I had intended, not wanting to miss a moment of this glorious first day gift and return two hours later to find my lazy boys still asleep and a chilly kitchen, ‘stove’ stares broodingly back at me, quiet and cold. I resign myself to the inevitable and take up arms…

A second gift, ‘stove’ is surprisingly kind to me!

The day trundles on in much the same way it began with distractions and interruptions but I manage to rake up all the leaves in the yard - not on my list but probably should have been, clear all the winter debris from two herb beds - also not on the list. In fact, the only tasks struck off by the end of the day are the sheep water refill and mucking out; the mad idea of making a flowing white coat which seemed so ridiculous this morning was beginning to feel less mad… after attempting to carry two buckets of fresh water from the tap in the yard, all the way down the lane and to the bottom of the field, whilst trying to cling to a sheet and having to repeat the whole thing due loss of water, well let’s just say… what a palaver!

SUNDAY : Another murky start, this time the type that obliterates all views and makes the house feel like a boat, ambulant, in its sea of fog, I see nothing but a grey blanket with one tiny island adrift in the middle, probably, if anyone looked out towards me from that island, they would see much the same. The fog lingers, floating thick and uninspiring until midday, so I float a little with it… I do not even look at my list until after lunch.

Adrift…

After debating the sanctity of Sunday afternoons and finally motivating hubby and son into anything other than more coffee and YouTube total inertia, we all finally, address the work planned for the day. The truck is loaded, chainsaw, files, gloves, fuel and an axe. Too slowly, considering our tardy start and not until after discussing the fastest way to finish, we begin. Sectioning and clearing the four plum trees, ripped brutally from their old roots in a freak tornado that tore across our side of the hill last June, is laborious work, brambles and ivy have grown through the branches and with every new scratch to hands and arms the air is thick with ´gros mots’ - we progress at snails pace. Hubby, as the only one capable of handling the chainsaw, dissects the trees limb by tangled limb with expertise, while son and I clear. Son with the enthusiasm of someone who has been torn from his bed at an ungodly hour and forced to dig trenches in sub zero temperatures, he is as lethargic as a sloth in a slow motion mobile phone film! I say nothing and try not to worry about quite how he will survive alone in this fast paced world we live in, he is only fourteen, he has plenty of time to change his attitude to work surely,?

Winning…

By dusk, we have cleared all bar one tree but hubby cuts the engine, puts down his tool and announces something about needing a beer. He doesn’t see my incredulous look or hear my retort, which is probably for the best and the only advantage of his advancing deafness… I tell him often to wear ear protectors but he doesn’t listen… or doesn’t hear!

When finally I am sitting down, supper eaten, the dishes cleared away and ‘stove’ is contentedly crackling behind its glowing glass front, I peer at my list, hoping by some strange miracle to strike off at least a third of the listed items, as it is only 3 can be scribbled through - I guess it’s a start…

NOTE : I was going to post the entire journal of my holiday in one go but thought perhaps chopping it into shorter chunks might be better for all of you who have lives as busy as mine.