Down time
It’s been pouring with rain all weekend, and the roof of one of the sheds has sprung a leak. This would be no surprise were it Shed Number 1, which we inherited and is now, quite frankly, a ruin, and less of an eye-opener with Shed Number 3, a cheapo version I erected myself, making up for what I lacked in skill with the creativity of my swearing. But Shed Number 2 is the Posh Shed (or as close to posh as we get around here), and is generally in very good nick. It’s also my workshop and, while it’s not particularly tidy at the moment, I do try to preserve a sense of order in there, to which buckets of rainwater are not especially conducive.
I popped up on the roof last week for a quick shifty, and the roofing material seemed in good condition, with the exception of a two or three rather odd little tears, the largest about an inch across, which went right through to the wood. I suspect a partially extinguished firework – curse the bloody things – has come down and melted right through the felt. The hastily procured tube of squeezy black roofing mastic, applied liberally, seems to have slowed the pace of the dripping, though not stopped it altogether. Let’s hope dry weather and daylight will shortly coincide, so I can sort it out.
All this soggy shed activity is in danger of interfering with proper gardening stuff – the place looks like a bomb has hit it, and the bonfire heap is higher than the pupil of the proverbial pachyderm. Seeds have begun to arrive in the post, and I've sown the first batch of chillies ('Basket of Fire' from Marshalls) though I've not yet got round to the ‘Hungarian Hot Wax’ from Sarah Raven, which I’ve recently discovered is something she offers for a mere £2.50. As a further Sign of Things to Come the raised beds have been cleared, and I’m having thoughts about sweet peas (not before time).
The naughty postman, bringing goodies for the garden almost on a daily basis just now.
It might look like quiet down time in the garden, but half way through winter I can feel the pace already beginning to pick up. Which is a way of telling myself to make the most of the lengthening days and get on with all the winter maintenance tasks, before finding time for them among the busyness of growing things becomes a real issue.