So I train as a garden designer, spend years practising this craft and invest hours into developing a subtle and changing colour scheme in my planting. Then I walk out to be greeted by this sight. It's as though a large plastic monster has vomited all over my lawn.
I shouldn't be surprised. It happens every summer, but I did think I would be spared the full horror for at least another month or two. But that was before the loft ladder descended, ominously.
You see, yesterday, my husband decided to reclaim his territory. Division of labour is simple in this household. I clean, garden and do the washing whilst my other half cooks (preferably using every pan and utensil available). However, the one area he does bring order to is the loft.
This is an irregular but much heralded task which involves a lot of tutting (generally aimed in my direction for daring to mess with his system up there), followed by a good hour of bangs, crashes and the appearance of random, half-forgotten objects. Tragically, this included a large bin liner which he proudly brought into the kitchen. "Look, I've found the balls for the playpit - Archie will love these!"
Marvellous! The very same bag I pushed further into the recesses of the loft only a fortnight before thinking "Oh God! Balls for the playpit, Archie would love those."
So there you have it. My garden is now bursting with colour and I will have to put aside an extra 20 minutes every evening to tidy them away. And the Easter holidays have begun. My joy is complete.
The balls seem to have made their escape - perhaps you need another very, very deep sand pit!
Posted by: easygardener | April 07, 2009 at 03:18 PM