Today was one of those days where I planned to do one thing – which was, essentially, very little except the groundwork for a roast dinner – but ended up doing a lot of stupid little things instead (as well as the groundwork for a roast dinner).
The best of which was… cutting a lot of branches off the massive tree which overhangs our shed.
I was just looking out of the window, and it just annoyed me. So I went out with some clippers and a ladder that is the least stable thing on the planet and cut loads of the branches off it. In what could have been described as an angry, frantic way. But was, in fact, because I wanted to do it all before the timer went off for the roast potatoes I was doing and I’d started with a mere six minutes on the clock.
The most fun part of it was that every time I touched it, it deposited around a ton of dead conifer bits all over me and, in some cases, inside my clothes. Not to mention numerous spiders which I later found roaming around my t-shirt.
But hey, I’ve done it. I’ve removed the burden of the branches from the collapsing shed, allowing the shed to live on in all our hearts for more months than it possibly would with the weight of floppy conifer branches pressing down upon it.
And they were heavy, because they slid down the roof of the shed onto the ground with some force. All of them carefully guided away from the ladder I was balancing on because it was the wobbliest thing in the world (although I’d actually planted it in such a way that the wobble was non-existent. It was was as if the wonky ladder and wonky shed formed a stable cohesive unit) and it would really have pissed me off if I’d fallen and injured myself in some way.
Partly because of the pain and injury and subsequent need for potential treatment. Partly because who would rescue me from the bottom of the garden. And partly because if I had fallen and was in any way incapacitated my potatoes would have been ruined and, judging by the look I snuck in just before I came out they were on course to be some absolutely fricking marvelous roasties (which they were).
But still, tree done. It’s a big tick on the jobs to do that didn’t need doing but do them anyway list.
And I got rid of the ferns as well, as an added bonus, so the front garden now looks less like you’re going to find a sick Triceratops and a massive pile of shit if you deviate from the path.
It’s almost like there’s only a couple of weeks left of the garden bin collection and I’m really trying to get our money’s worth…