You go away for a few days and come home to find life has carried on without you - how dare it! In my case, proof in the form of a hoard of aubergine seedlings wrestling their way out of a mini propagator, and my 2014-15 tax return on the doormat. Yes, there were some nice carryings on, too, in the form of emerging apple blossom, the willow arch greening up, and some violets appearing in the front garden. I didn't put the violets there - they just arrived, via the medium of bird poo for all I know, but they are a welcome addition to the borders and I have identified them to Andy so he doesn't pull them up during his occasional weeding frenzies.
The other surprise was the damson tree. I am not wholly convinced the damson tree likes our garden. We've had it for over four years and in that time it has produced 17 damsons. Thereabouts. And in the recent 'Banish the Hens to the Back of the Garden' movement to give the lawn a chance to recover (it is - hurrah!) Andy decided to move the damson tree, bizarrely to within 4 feet of our rampant apple tree.
I voiced my scepticism at this wild gardening decision. 'Was that wise?' I believe were my actual words. I thought, it'll be dead as a doo-doo soon and fodder for the woodburner; either that or there will be a) a tussle for light, air and space 'twixt apple and damson which the apple will win by virtue of height or b) some weird apple/ damson hybrid will ensue brought about by confused bees doing cross-pollination and we'll be the first people to grow 'Dapples' or 'Appsoms.'
(I do apologise - I have just been informed by my Editor, aka the voice in my head, that bees are NEVER confused. Humans who try to look after bees are confused. Bees know what is happening ALL the time. And I, to my personal confusion, should know #incidentalbeekeeper.)
Anyway, the damson tree is clearly on Andy's side as it is shock full of blossom and giving the apple tree a certain amount of fruit attitude. Hmmm...we shall see.
So, with yesterday's sun demanding immediate Flower Soldier action, I struck out on an Aubergine Liberation Mission and transplanted 35 aubergine seedlings into pots of their own. (Please don't ask where I intend to house this many aubergine plants - I don't know. I am still waiting on the instructions of the God of Aubergine on this one.) I set up the camping table on the patio in the sunshine, arranged the pots with all the tender care of an Earth Mother, watered the seedlings using the finest of sprinkler attachments on the watering can - and they promptly all keeled over and did a most authentic impression of 'Dead and Shrivelled 2015 - Revenge of the Aubergine.' Ungrateful sods.
Well, come night fall I was ready to leave them out as a donation to the Slug Supper Club but no - I carried them all into the greenhouse (which I have recently discovered it too small by around 50 square feet) and closed the door with a little lullaby of 'Grow, My Pretties, Grow.' (Or something like that. There may have been swearing, there may not.)
So, 'twas with some trepidation I ventured forth this morning expecting to see the end of my aubergine adventure for this year, but no! Apparently not! There was some erectness occuring (hush at the back please - no giggling - it's VERY childish) and the Dead Dead are now the Living Dead. Zombie Aubergines. It was obviously the singing wot done it. I shall serenade them again this evening.
And then I came in, finished the jigsaw I started last night (the tricky sky and tree bit) and filled in my tax return. Apparently, and according to the information booklet enclosed with the form MOST people fill their returns in on-line because it is the MOST convenient and easiest way. Convenient for whom? Moi or the Inland Revenue? I'll shall be the judge of THAT, young Revenue-Me-Lad, I thought, and filled out the paper version even though I begrudge the cost of applying a second class stamp to send it off. It is 54p well spent, I think, if it makes things slightly less convenient for the IR and slightly more convenient for me#awkwardmadam.