In the winter my backyard sees only a glimmer of the morning sun. My neighbour's tree has grown too tall, as the sun traverses east-to-west my yard sees very little of its winter-ly rays.
My clothes dry inside now, the clothes horse gets moved from lounge to tiny bathroom, back to lounge to bathroom, depending on weather... and if it is bath night, or shower night, or shower morning. Which means it gets moved at least twice a day.
I swore I'd never chase the sun or warmth with this clothes horse, after it shut on both my hands and pinched so hard on one finger two years ago. I pried it open with my only free body part, my boot. I cursed Ikea and its dumb clothes horse.
My finger was numb for two months after that, yet still I move the thing from room to room, one corner of the yard to another. How I have hated thee clothes horse, but bloody oath you dries my clothes. During the day I close the door of my bathroom, the dry warm air hits you when you slide open the door. I could dehydrate fruit in there.
When I can have dry clothes in one day, why would I bother changing my ugh boots for crocs to bring in washing at the sight of the one dark cloud that always looks like it is right over my house. Even in the summer I have a bad habit of being unable to leave the washing the heck alone, I move it from prime morning sun spot to blazing burning hot afternoon spot by the rendered wall that radiates a singing heat.
These days my only backyard repertoire is a mad dash at lunch or dinner time to pick some coriander, which is growing beautifully, may I add. I check my bulbs, which are also looking fine. I sigh at the drifts of fig leaves collecting in my yard.
But then I spy the happy wanderer. I rescued him from my front yard a couple of years back, and now it looks fantastic. Mr Happy Wanderer is wondering where he can wander from his fat bush. Shall I grapple at the tap today, it wonders, or shall I creep up these two beams which used to hold a pergola? I don't know, I think I'll just see how wide around I can get.
Pretty amazing my wanderer, and it gave my winter's first pretty purple blooms. Thanks Mr!
My clothes dry inside now, the clothes horse gets moved from lounge to tiny bathroom, back to lounge to bathroom, depending on weather... and if it is bath night, or shower night, or shower morning. Which means it gets moved at least twice a day.
I swore I'd never chase the sun or warmth with this clothes horse, after it shut on both my hands and pinched so hard on one finger two years ago. I pried it open with my only free body part, my boot. I cursed Ikea and its dumb clothes horse.
My finger was numb for two months after that, yet still I move the thing from room to room, one corner of the yard to another. How I have hated thee clothes horse, but bloody oath you dries my clothes. During the day I close the door of my bathroom, the dry warm air hits you when you slide open the door. I could dehydrate fruit in there.
When I can have dry clothes in one day, why would I bother changing my ugh boots for crocs to bring in washing at the sight of the one dark cloud that always looks like it is right over my house. Even in the summer I have a bad habit of being unable to leave the washing the heck alone, I move it from prime morning sun spot to blazing burning hot afternoon spot by the rendered wall that radiates a singing heat.
These days my only backyard repertoire is a mad dash at lunch or dinner time to pick some coriander, which is growing beautifully, may I add. I check my bulbs, which are also looking fine. I sigh at the drifts of fig leaves collecting in my yard.
But then I spy the happy wanderer. I rescued him from my front yard a couple of years back, and now it looks fantastic. Mr Happy Wanderer is wondering where he can wander from his fat bush. Shall I grapple at the tap today, it wonders, or shall I creep up these two beams which used to hold a pergola? I don't know, I think I'll just see how wide around I can get.
Pretty amazing my wanderer, and it gave my winter's first pretty purple blooms. Thanks Mr!
Lovely post. My winter dash is to the coriander and to collect the eggs & replenish food/water for the chickens.
ReplyDeleteMY nasty secret? I often, lazily, don't take off the ugh boots before I venture out. 'It's just a quick trip I say". Then I guiltly wipe them off with a old rag when I bustle inside. There I've said it. To all the world!
I too am really lazy about the switch from uggs to crocs, if the crocs aren't there then I do the same quick dash. Only when I am inside and there is a sticky squish underfoot, do I cringe, figs; as much as I love them ,I loathe that surprise
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