Unravelling

I have spent a lovely two days unraveling the winter woes from the soil at the allotment. I have been teasing the clay apart. I have been pampering it with potions and powders. I have fed it with love and nourishment. I have parcelled it up to keep it warm and get it ready for it's big day, when it can unwrap the seedlings I plant and in turn tease them into big healthy plants.

When my mother was staying earlier in the week I could tell how she was progressing by the way her tongue unravelled. To begin with she was quiet and meek but as the week progressed she recovered herself and delivered a few well choosen remarks. It would appear that I don't wear as much make-up as I used to, nor do I wear jewellery like I used to. Infact, she questioned if I wasn't 'letting myself go' a bit.

What was more interesting to me was my daughter's response to this. I have lived with my mother for too long to know that her tongue lashes and often her brain is not connected, so these things slide off me and I consider them additions to her character. I laugh at these things as much as I laugh at her shopping lists. My girl was horrified and immediately defensive - bless her.

And so, on a rare day off, my man suggested we have lunch after we had completed our morning's chores. I rushed from the allotment, pulled a few twigs from my hair, checked the mirror to make sure there were no obvious 'Adam Ant style lines' of dirty across my face and walked through a wall of perfume in an attempt to reduce the eau de burning from my skin. I of course washed my hands and even scrubbed my nails before applying my earings and ribbon

What could my mother possibly be on about; 'letting myself go'? Hardly!