Autumnal
The garden gate in July 2006 We have a pretty long garden - 43 metres in fact. I know that because I once measured it - from our kitchen door to the little white gate that opens onto the back lane. 43 metres is 47 yards. In the depths of winter, when it's cold and often dark and wet, I hardly venture out into the garden at all - maybe an occasional trip up to the compost bins with kitchen waste - vegetable peelings and the like. But at other times of the year, good weather will often draw me out and I get on with jobs like cutting the grass, trimming the privet hedges, digging, weeding or just pottering about. Two or three hours in the garden does me a world of good. I return to the house feeling somehow energised and with the satisfying knowledge that I have done some jobs that needed doing. Since the episode with that horrible antibiotic - nitrofurantonin , I have remained in gradual recovery mode and just have not felt magnetised by the garden even though there were jobs...