Trees

Late start.  

Sundays are great.

Leisurely breakfast that was at lunch time, then much garden work.  Mr B evidently decided I was going to be incompetent at getting the henhouse level, so he did it.  (He's probably right - I care much less about that stuff.)  Meanwhile, CarbBoy and I finished the path that the gardeners have been faffing about with for a month.  

Once it was done, Mr B and I walked down it to the Bottom Terrace (all thoughts of naming it the Honeysuckle Terrace have gone in favour of practical descriptions) with a bottle of Sunday fizz and some chat.  Looking up I just fell in love all over again with the variety of trees we have here and felt very happy that Mr B had decided to keep this oak.

Later, digging out the gravel garden, until it got too dark to see the spade.  And so, hurting in every muscle and with barely the energy to get up the steps to the house, I headed in.  With the benefit of backblipping I can confirm that I don't get all the soil out from under my nails for about four days, and I ache for that whole time.

Bliss.