The allotment in April 2009 - all my husband's love and care poured into it. Now it seems lost to him On Saturday my sister comes with her secateurs and the bolster of her encouragement - helping me to weed out the loss of him in every bed and path.....helping me to see how much I could do....how much I might grow ....fill out the skeleton of all his hard work in the past......the beds which were broken and grassy and parched ......by 5pm are restored and hopeful and waiting for seed....thanks to her magic hands and our father's guiding approval in every clod of earth turned and every spadeful of compost spread. Thank you my Garden Tribe.....
And thank you to this sweet Robin singing to us all day while we worked.
On Sunday we tackled the garden - my sister and I....tidying and ordering, emptying the summer pots, pruning and weeding and re-planting until I could see the shape it used to be....could be again.And my husband filled the car with all our de-clutterings and took them to the dump ......taking his high loud voices with him....drowning out the music on the radio....
Much later in the dusk we walked in the University parks - my husband and I and the voices.....
which seemed calmer in the quietness of the tall old trees and the towering pink of the camellias lining the path...reminding me to stay in this cold spring of 2015 and not to stray into that other county of the unappreciated past......
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