Those of you who said brain surgery in the kitchen sink do not get the prize!
We have been experiencing very sleepless nights lately. For some reason, our dear old dog, Merlin, has taken to barking incessantly from under the back verandah and tearing from one side of the backyard to the other. He has a huge bark and I'm afraid that the neighbours are going to get sick of the noise real fast. As we have done. If I do manage to coax him inside, within a very short space of time, he is again out there barking. He has also been rolling in something unspeakably stinky. This morning, when I spied that he was again sporting a suit of stink clothing, I took myself off down the back stairs and decided to do a circuit of the yard to find the source of the world's worst smell. I didn't have to go far - only as far as the mulberry tree! And there they are, hanging in all their glossy loveliness - the ripe and luscious mulberries. And all around the tree are the signs of the feast that the flying foxes have been having every night, including the remains of the mulberries they have already eaten and that have made their way through their little flying foxy digestive systems and once again into the environment in which we reside. In other words, the ground is covered in flying fox crap and Merlin has been rolling in it!
Off to the laundry tub he went!! Poor sweet old thing, here I was proclaiming loud and long that he has lost his marbles, that he is spending his nights barking at nothing and worst still, keeping me awake and making me grumpy in the day, and he was actually trying to rid the skies over the entire block of the dreaded crapping enemy.
So I resolved to start picking the mulberries with a view to making a batch of jam. I find it hard to stand for any great length of time on my mending ankle, but in a reasonably shortish period of time this afternoon picked this -
It's over one and a half kilos. I really only did about three branches. When I say 'did', I was hardly thorough - I got to the point where I was only picking the ginormous ones - sorry, you're only big, you won't do!
Tomorrow, I will pick more.
A happy footnote - the tradesman turned up and the job is sorted (it was motorising the new garage door) and the quilt that had to be finished by this Friday has been delivered. Something I made years ago and because it really wasn't my cup of tea, has remained just a pieced quilt top with no real purpose. I'm not sorry to see it go but happy that I have gained a little space in the sewing room cupboard. It is being auctioned at a charity fund raising dinner on Friday night - hopefully someone whose cup of tea it is will buy it.
and the roses have started to bloom. There is a line of demarcation in the garden where I was pruning roses, one each day, until I broke my leg - short roses to the left, tall straggly roses to the right.
We've had some hot days lately, everything is very dry, I wish it would really rain. We had a small shower overnight, but we so need a good solid day's rain.
The fragrance of the roses is in the air -
My favourite rose in the garden, DA Lucetta . . .
My not so favourite, Reine des Violettes . . .
My least favourite, Reine Victoria, showing signs of the warm winds of last week. My forced sitting inside for the last almost two months has started my thinking that the whole front garden needs re-doing. Things need to be moved so that there's a bit more structure to form and colour scheme, the soil needs a boost with a good addition of compost and Reine Victoria is going on the burning pile!
Clematis on the archway on the side gate. The crummy archway is once again on a precarious lean and I think one more gust of southerly wind will bring the whole lot down. The fish pond nearby is looking so dilapidated, it needs a good clean out but worse still, seems to be leaking water. The fish still appear every time I go near, anxious for food - they would eat all day.
In the meantime, the cast is off my leg, and I'm waiting for the swelling to go down. I'm having physiotherapy and trying to get myself walking properly. My ankle is stiff, but I'm not sure how much of the limp is in my ankle and how much is in my head.