Weeding Out...

A local resident..who doesn't like the cats...

the 'naughty plants' (les mauvaises herbes)... a much nicer term than 'weeds' for a plant growing in the wrong place.  I'm so not a gardener.  But having had someone come and do some gardening, including clearing one of the (very few) borders, I thought that it was a good idea not to let things get out of hand again.  I'm going to have to clear the rest of it myself, though... no money for frivolities like help with the gardening.

Oddly enough, when I actually get out there and start doing it, I feel fine about it.  I think it's the same process as happens when I'm working.  There is a real need for concentration (I know a weed from a plant, but it's sometimes touch and go...), and so the task becomes a contemplation, and the contemplation becomes a meditation, albeit in a very uncomfortable position (must ask for a kneeler mat for my birthday...). 

And then there's the cats.  They think it's Very Strange that I'm in the garden for any length of time; I'm usually just passing through on the way to the studio, or out to the car... so they study what I'm doing with a certain measure of incredulity.  After a while, the oldest comes and pats me on the arm, and that's the sign that enough gardening has been done for the day, at least in his view... and its time to Play.  That involves him chasing a stick around the garden, or a bit of dead plant... and the other three looking on, waiting for the opportunity to jump in. 

And then there's the frogs.  There are about five of them, and they have all been getting busy in the pond.  The evidence for that is in the piles of frogspawn and the splish splashing every time I go out the back door.  They're keen, but shy.  And, of course, they don't like the cats. 

I seem to be somewhat converted to the idea of gardening... might even  plant some flowers this year... if we get enough rain to make a hosepipe ban avoidable... seems pointless, otherwise.

And Now...

for something completely different. Monday is washday, we all know that, right? So on Monday, I stripped the bed and washed the linens. I have to admit to detesting ironing bedcovers with a passion, so I have a tendency to hoard them. On Monday, though, in the interests of wiping the slate clean (or in this case, killing the ironing with a single stroke...or series of strokes...), I brought the ironing board downstairs, planning to watch mindless television whilst I ironed.

As you can see from the pictures, the cats had other plans. First, it was Advo, the oldest of the four, and quite a tart, as you can see from the photo. He was sound asleep, and I didn't have the heart to move him, so I went off to do something else. A bit later, I came back and found that Millie had joined the sleep in. She adores Advo with a passion which is really not returned. There she was on the floor, sound asleep, so I left them to it.

Later that afternoon, near cat dinner time, I went to see what the story was. You'll note that Millie has got herself nicely up in amidst the washing (and right on my blue silk trousers), happily esconced beside Her Hero, Advo. Both are glowering...how dare you disturb us from our slumbers with that noisy camera??? I've said it before, and I'll doubtless say it again; a mother's place is in the wrong. Even if it's only the cats who think it. Or should that be, especially? Happily, the word 'dinner' makes up for a lot. With cats as with kids!

At least I no longer have kids to deal with...well, only at the end of the phone!