Cats and Brambles

Planting up 15 baskets with summer bedding is not an easy task, especially when your cat likes one for her bed. The other one... Pebble... was stung by a bee on his lip. He leapt into the air like a mountain goat, at the same time, using both front paws to try and brush away the pain from his mouth. Still leaping he made it to the back door where I caught up with him. By this time he was frothing at the mouth and crying... as cats do. Oh no, looks like a trip to the Vet. But he stopped frothing, and went over to his food dish and ate something, so panic over. He now has a large spot on his bottom lip... and has he learnt his lesson? No, he is still chasing Bees.

At last, I have tackled half of my neighbour's overhanging hedge, meant to be Beech... the house is named Beech Cottage! However, the hedge has been taken over by brambles and elder, all growing profusely over my flimsy willow fence. I have taken all afternoon, have been scratched to bugg**y and have bled a lot, but it is done! Until the end of the summer when I will have to do the same all over again. Not being gardeners, my neighbours don't know a bramble from a beech and are not concerned about it. I, on the other hand object to walking by and almost losing an eye because a bramble runner has grown two feet in 24 hours. Any suggestions would be most welcome.

Another job ticked off the long list of garden jobs that have suddenly become urgent with all the warm weather.

Ashes and Roses

My beloved's ashes lie within these two pots of roses, although one pot has less of him now... I spent yesterday, my birthday, re-potting them because the original pots had become splintered through frost damage. There was an ant's nest in one of the pots which required some sifting and spraying before re-potting. A large quantity of soil and ashes were left over, so they are now amongst two newly bought roses in the garden. My lovely man's remains are spreading around the garden... I don't know if this is in any way disrespectful, however, he always insisted that he didn't want his ashes as a shrine and that I could put him on the compost if I wished. I can now sit on the bench and talk to him, then walk to one side of the garden and say a few more words, move over to the other side and say some more words. Much better than keeping him in a pot on the mantlepiece.

As for dating, yes, I tried it again! Such a disappointment... where are all the single, normal, men of my age... yep... they are either Gay, Married or Dead. So I have definitely resigned myself to the sorrowful view that my chance of happiness within a loving, intimate relationship has been and gone. And I think, how lucky I was to have known such happiness, short as it was. My heart goes out to all those, who like me, are existing day to day, rudderless.