Happy Sunday greetings!
Eons ago - it seems- there was a time when a long soak in the bathtub on a Sunday morning was a way of relaxing away the busy week that had gone, and helped to revive me after the revellry of the Saturday night activities. Today's Sunday Soak is of a different nature.
10 Deg C and 2 spots – rain indicator on the local weather chart.
It’s been a rainy week so there’s a lot of moisture around the garden. It’s not a bog since my soil drains very well, but the ground underfoot is probably wetter than it was at this time last year.
Each year is different in the garden, just like it is in my household with regard to daily living.
I’m not a big fan of gardening in the rain but will have to brave it out if we have yet another spell of the wet stuff. I still haven’t managed to use my new strimmer/trimmer for the grass edges since I blogged about buying it days ago, and don’t see that happening anytime soon, but there are some jobs I can do between the showers.
Meanwhile I’m building up a nice little stack of 'rain on the plants photographs.
As I do my re writes/edits for the second edition of Monogamy Twist I’m looking out onto a very green view. There's been some rapid growth since last week, a bit of 'greening up' and lots of blackened moss visible since I did an application of lawn feed, weed and mosskilling.
Overgrown lawn grass is mentioned on the first pages of my contemporary mystery novel.
I'm hoping for tasty strawberries this year.
Here's a snippet from the latest version of Monogamy Twist where Luke Salieri has his first sight of the woman he realises is the only one to help solve the Dickensian nightmare he's found himself in.
He strode to the nearest window to get the smell of camphor-balls out of his nostrils. The tall sash casements were clad with distressed claret brocade drapes, so distressed the colour had sun-faded to a pale blush wine. Pushing aside more cobwebs than material, he flicked the catch and yanked the window open, a shard of deteriorated wood slicing his index finger.
“Shit!” Curses garbled as he sucked off dripping blood and teased out the substantial splinter with his teeth. “How could you let a stately old home like this decay so much, Amelia?” He tried to force the window down again, but it refused to budge, his frustrated grunts disturbed by some wildly frenetic barking.
“What the…?” His question fogged the windowpane. The beast making the racket was a whirling dervish frolicking over the rough grass.
He grinned, the whimsical interruption lifting his tension.
“Thor! Get back here now.”
The peremptory command came from a woman who was exiting the woods bordering the lawn. Luke smiled again as the excited animal completely ignored its owner, instead bounding up to the dilapidated flagstones of what had once been an impressive terrace way down below him. He considered ignoring his dilemma as well; considered making a similar swift bounce-away.
From his third level vantage point, the young woman recaptured his attention as she ploughed across the overgrown lawn grass. Her husky voice was firm.
“You went off again too quickly, you disobedient pup.”
Pup? The beast was enormous. His focus zoomed in on the woman as she capered back from the animal’s attentions. Her glistening lava hair settled around her face as she came to a gradual halt and gathered the squirming beast close to her. The dog’s tongue lapped out to lick her face, revealing the ungainly quivering of body hair as the long forelegs stretched up onto her shoulders. He watched her almost overbalance under the onslaught of adoration from the dog. She was a tiny little woman, and Thor was one very big canine.
“Get down, Thor!”
The melodious chime of her laughter imprinted itself somewhere inside him as she thrust the hound down to ground level.
“You’re not a little pup any more.”
Thor? A good name for a powerful beast, he thought, watching her rub the dog’s underside. Scratching below his own belly, he adjusted his stance at the window. His imagination surged, the heat of the sun blasting in the window.
“Who are you?” His question misted the filthy pane, the little pixie below making quite an impact. “A woodland fairy?” Well, she had materialized out of the woods and he presently felt he was in some nightmarish fairy tale. His harsh laugh echoed around him in the empty room. Was his fatigue so bad he was hallucinating? An ironic burst peeled out again, loud enough to make the dog’s ears perk up.
There was no quiet barking from this particular canine, its exuberance boisterous and excited as it capered way down below the window.
“Come on. Time to go, Thor.”
Who was the woman? He watched as she ushered the animal back to the woods. What was she doing in the grounds of Greywood Hall, seemingly so familiar? Realising he wanted answers to those questions, Luke erupted into the corridor taking the treads on the internal central staircase two at a time, trusting they’d not collapse under his pounding feet as he hurried outside.
There was no sign of her as he scanned the gardens.