The Real Thing

After playing with woollen representations of this classic flower for the past few days, here's a real one to look at. 

I spent a couple of hours in the garden yesterday. I don't know what word to use to describe my activity. "Gardening" would imply that there's something of a collection of favoured plants. Well, there's this rose and my faithful Loraine Lee which always has a flower or two for me. Oh, and the grevilleas, but they're a bit overgrown at the moment. "Weeding" is more like it, but it doesn't seem a sufficient word for the magnitude of the challenge. Perhaps "digging" is a better word. Whatever word I use, there's plenty more to do. So I'd better get on with it. 

Mission Accomplished

The ditch is dug! I have all sorts of interesting new muscles and bruises, but that's ok. I'm counting on this being a once in a lifetime experience. If I ever start talking about digging another ditch in this clay-rocky soil, will some-one who loves me please give me a shot of something strong and take me away to a secure, quiet place until I come to my senses. Having said that, I'm feeling quite proud of myself and it was kind of fun to be spectacularly dirty from honest work. Enough of the ditch!

My other mission yesterday was much prettier. I had a $10 voucher to spend at the local craft superstore. They had a clearance on beads. I managed to spend all my voucher money and nothing more. I'm thinking of framing the docket that lists the items, with a total of $ 0.00. Here's what I came home with:

My plan is to make some demonstration pieces for a potential future beading class. I've deliberately chosen colours that I don't normally wear, since I can always raid my personal collection to supplement.

Ditch Bi*#ch!

I don't want to mention my ditch digging endeavors on this blog ever again--except perhaps a short message to say the deed is finally done. I'd hoped today might be the day for that message of triumph, but it was not to be. Yesterday was not a good day for ditch digging. We had lots of rain. It poured down pretty much all night. I woke and anxiously checked the weather forecast: heavy rain! I'm not some-one who gives up easily. As soon as there was a break in the weather, out I went with my big boots, shovel, mattock and crow-bar. The boots tell the story: I worked hard at it for an hour or so. I wasn't really sure whether the clay and rocks I was heaving out of the trench were enough to balance the chunks of mud slithering back in down the sides. At least it was easier to loosen the large rocks in the base of the hole amongst the wet clay. I only stopped when it started to rain, again.

I can't recommend my approach to the rest of the day. I kept checking the weather forecast. The news didn't get any better, though the wording changed occasionally: flood warning; severe weather warning; heavy rain; storm watch . . . none of it was encouraging. I should have just given up the idea of digging and moved on to something else. I tried. Eventually I pulled out some beads and started to make a chain necklace, but my heart wasn't in it.

Today it's cloudy, the forecast is for scattered showers, clearing in the afternoon. It's still pretty mucky out there, but I am determined. I'm hoping to take all my pent up frustrations from yesterday and channel them into digging power. That should see the job done amazingly fast--if the weather holds off.

The Shed Story Continues

The story of the shed so far is a tale of holes. On the first day I had been warned not to expect much apparent progress. That was an accurate prediction. The result of a day's work by three men turned out to be twelve holes, like this one. Yesterday's progress consisted of a five minute visit from building inspector. I'd been told to expect a man with a tape-measure. That's exactly what appeared. He measured one hole, peered into the other eleven, declared everything ok and left again.

Meanwhile I've been digging a ditch. I am not the world's greatest ditch digger. Progress has been slow and somewhat painful. The ground is heavy clay and there are some decent sized rocks. I'm learning to be a bit more accurate with a mattock and shovel and finding the crow-bar helpful in spots. I am very glad of my leather gloves. They are no longer white. I'm not confident enough of myself or my digging expertise to carry on in the presence of three unknown workmen. They've just arrived for today's work, so I guess I'll do some more this evening. Their task today is to build the subfloor--that's what will hold the shed up, I guess. Then Monday is another inspection day, so they will work elsewhere. That gives me the weekend to finish digging my ditch before the electrician comes to lay the power line. So, today I plan to do some sorting inside and visit the exhibition of the students graduating from Box Hill TAFE's Textile Art course. I'm seriously considering this course for next year, so I'll be particularly interested in the show.

Changes

Yesterday was a day of contrasts. I spent several hours in the morning digging a ditch. By the way, it turns out to be about 4 meters long, not 2--and 600 mm is a long way down in solid clay. When it got too hot to dig, I switched over to some inside tasks.

My afternoon commitment was at the hairdressers. I was ready for a change. After flipping through some style books and trying to describe what I was thinking, it was time to just let it happen. To my surprise, there was no hesitation with the scissors. Anna just went ahead and snipped away all the length around my head, leaving me with something that might resemble a short bob, if it wasn't for the curls! There I was in front of the mirror, watching Anna style and arrange my hair, knowing full well, that within a short time of leaving the salon I'd be back in the garden with a mattock and shovel, running dirty fingers through my hair to keep it out of my sweaty face.

After another session of digging, I decided I needed some technical improvements. I've borrowed a crow-bar from a friend and invested in some protective leather gloves. I was interesting scouring the hardware store for real working gloves in a small ladies' size. Crow-bars only come in the one size, which is significantly taller than me.

The shed installer is due here in less than an hour. Before he arrives I need to work out how to keep the dogs out his way while he works. I've been told not to expect much obvious progress today. The first task for the subfloor consists of digging holes, which then will need to be inspected before the stumps are cemented in. By tommorrow I should have a floor and then the walls and roof will go up. At that stage my ditch needs to be ready for the electrician, so I guess I'll be more than occupied.